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HAKKINDA YAZILANLAR

Ozan Can
26.11.2005 - 14:07

işte
Ozan Can
26.11.2005 - 14:06

I am the mudblood
Poem by: wauhilau
I am the cur, the poor mixed up kid with
dark skin and light eyes.
I am the fragment of what was
and what is.

I am the mudblood

I am the progeny of generations of deceit
and lies, the offspring of Red dead covered
with flies I am the son of mothers who
died frozen in the snow in Kentucky,
the embryo of forgotten blue-black haired
women with names that a white tongue
cannot pronounce

I am the mudblood

I am a mudblood descended from protestant
Gaels who sought freedom in a new land
the same folks who stole it by slight of
hand and their religion replaced the chants
and songs handed down by the Adawehi,
sounds that lasted for generations.

I am the mudblood

I am mudblooded dirty and shoeless on
flint rock hills, walking the blacktop
in search of dollar bills
and we were rich compared to our neighbor

I am mudblooded

I am a mudblood sent away to a school
far from home, beaten up by the fullboods
and then their backs turned to me left alone.
spit on for my light eyes
I am a mudblood

I am the mudblood

never enough Red and too much White but
not enough to attain the right to live
amongst blueblooded capitalists who send
their kids to college while my Red brothers
fight their wars

I am the mudblood

I am the mudblood and I answer to a given
Christian name followed by a surname
butchered by a census taker's careless
translation the same name that a guilty
America now finds in fascination and tries
to emulate in some new age adoration

I am the mudblood

I am a mudblood impure and a mongrel of
shared chromosomes, no legacy to proclaim,
no claim to fame, no rules to the game
none that I can find to live by anyways

I am a mudblood

my CDIB fractionalizes my blood and all
those integers only stir up the mud
the silt that flows in my veins
the freckles on a high forehead
the clumsiness in my diction

I am the mudblood

my clan Brothers leave me uninvited
outside the Circle, my face slighted the
rich kids beg for more while a drum beats
a slow steady stomp

I am the mudblood

I retreat into time and space
of my own creation and here
I find solace in my part of the Nation my
Grandfather's brown calloused hands
I remember on my shoulder
a crane feather in my hair

I am the mudblood

I am the mudblood and my children will be
muddy as well only time will tell if they
will find their place on either side of
the dividing line between red and white
or if they too will deal with their demons
or struggle with their light eyes and
their 'dark' name they will be the mudblood

I am the mudblood

Howa! ! Nihinahv? Ha!
how easily I may have forgotten How easily
I remembered, huh?

I am the mudblood, come what may Asquadvhi,
that is all I have to say.

Toplam 2 mesaj bulundu

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