Want proof that genocide of the American Indian exists?
There is a no-fly zone over Walt DisneyWorld in Florida. This is because Walt didn't want the sound of a plane overhead to break the magical illusion of his recreational park.
But yet, the glorious natural sounds of the Dine' (Navajo Nation) are raped daily by trucks, trains, choppers, jets and planes... terrorizing the elders and the children alike. It creates false thunder... so that these divine and spiritual beings are so deadened to the sounds of natural life that the ability to hear thunder and the advance of rain is stolen by the artificial illusions created by the invading vehicles... day and night. At night... even the stars cannot be trusted, as several of them are not stars, but distant planes. Or even satellites... or the Muir space station.
The U.S.A. has been raping indigenous cultures since the pilgrims landed. It has gone on far too long. If we as a nation were capable of listening to these proud, wise and beautiful people... and humbling ourselves before their sacred ways and selves, then this planet and our lives would have hope, instead of continuing down the disgusting paths of war, genetic manipulation, lies and shame.
And still they are proud, and still they are beautiful, and still, somehow, they find a way to love us, and give us hope.
~ Be i NGO
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May 30, 2006
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Beautiful Babylon Babies Unite !!!
This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,
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Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace
Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It
