Triatribe
America is no longer a melting pot.
I question if it really ever was.
Red tribes were raping each other.
Long before the white tribe arrived.
If it were a melting pot, we'd still be adorned
with turquoise necks and buckskin hides.
Still praying to star people for guidance.
Thanking Mother Earth for her generosity and grace.
Dancing with ghost dancers and white buffalo on spirit plains.
We wouldn't be spitting oil and semi-automatics...
into the good mother's wizened face.
Selfish children we've become.
Hateful bound we've become.
Goodness and faith driven far underground.
Into the loins of Hades.
Becoming the dark blue tribe far away from sun and maize.
Someday America may be great again.
Only if its heart returns to a proper place.
I have grave doubts that our heart has been liberated from its nuclear chest.
Life is cyclic. Everything has a beginning and an end.
Earth will someday become a white-hot ball.
Then an orb of lifeless frozen snot.
Time for the new age pilgrims to tuck pride inside the chest.
Sail into the blackness-onto another star.
For this one has a future, but the future chants of death.
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