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Steve E Ralph

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White Mans Lies
by Steve E Ralph
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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           >> View all 118

White men come; I’ve seen their wagons,

White men come with many guns,

Digging holes into the mountains,

Many times they’re told don’t come,

 

They desecrate our sacred places,

Searching for their yellow stones,

They swarm like flies across the valleys,

Fencing it to be their homes,

 

Many times we smoked the peace pipe,

Many times they gave their word,

No white man would cross the Black Hills,

Many promises we heard,

 

But white mans promises are broken,

Before the words have left their tongue,

Thousands come in covered wagons,

Men and women with their young,

 

We tried to drive them from the Black Hills,

But soldiers come to make a war,

It seems the white man’s soon forgotten,

Promises he made before,

 

White men’s words are empty quivers,

They have no power and no point,

They’re promises they can’t deliver,

To build our hopes then disappoint,

 

What choice had we but paint our faces,

And vow to fight until the last,

Years ago wise Hiawafa,

Said these things would come to pass,

 

And just the way he had predicted,

White men came like grains of sand,

Ploughing, digging, damning rivers

Where once were known as Indian land,

 

The battles that we fought were many,

White and Indian died alike,

Thunder sticks would bark their presents,

Tom-toms beat throughout the night,

 

Many times our drums were silenced,

By the white man’s empty words,

But hunting grounds became their pastures,

Grazed by nothing but their herds,

 

Buffalo that once were plenty,

Now too scarce to feed a tribe,

Slaughtered in there tens of thousands,

White men only want their hides,

 

The army pay men such as Cody,

To supply their cooks with buffalo hump,

They believe that’s all that can be eaten,

Buffalo carcasses are dumped,

 

Yet Indian uses all the buffalo,

Hide and sinew, meat and bone,

Buffalo meat makes tribe grow stronger

Bones for weapons hides for homes,

 

Now buffalo too scarce for hunting,

Canvas must replace their hides,

White man said this would not happen,

Just another white mans lie,

 

Black Kettle made piece with the white man,

Flew their flag for all to see,

Still twice they made war on his village,

And killed them all at Wounded Knee,

 

White mans words are like the fire smoke,

Comforting but hard to hold,

Perhaps things could have turned out different,

If not for the lies the white man told.

 

 

 By S.E.Ralph

 

22-1-2012

 

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Reviewed by Christine Tsen 2/2/2012
This is sensitive and sorrowful, amazingly written poetry!
Blessings,
Christine
Reviewed by Annabel Sheila 1/30/2012
Great ballad of truth, Steve! So sad...

Anna
Reviewed by Paul Berube 1/30/2012
Al too true, Steve. Well put.
Reviewed by Richard King 1/29/2012
Very entertaining and enjoyable reading, Steve. I like telling a story in rhyme, but it is especially difficult to maintain the flow of the story, continue a smooth rhythm and still uphold the rhyming at a high level. You handle all of that extremely well. Bravo!! Dick
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 1/29/2012
This white man is in love with the land. Not in love with development and making the land something it isn't, but in love with the way the red man saw it, as a land of plenty and a source of food and enjoyment–nothing more.

Your poem is an eloquent description of the atrocities Europeans inflicted on the native people of the North American continent. I grew up with cowboys and Indians and soon found how ridiculous and bigoted people can be. Casinos are small reparation and may be more destructive than good. I read where Buffalo are returning to native lands. That's a good sign.

Thanks for bearing truth for all those patriots out there who have such a warped sense of patriotism.

Ron
Reviewed by jude forese 1/29/2012
well written scenario of a what unfortunately has become a universal theme ...
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 1/29/2012
Steve,
Your poem reads like a diary entry from a time so long ago that has been forgotten..I too, write of this injustice, with my series Karena, Eagle Medicine woman..take a look and see what I have written over the years in poetry journal entry form..I loved your descriptive words, brought me right back to the time when Native Americans lived peacefully until the white man came and changed their world...

Thanks for wharing this wonderful poem...

Peace, love and light,
Amber



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