BUTTERFLY EFFECT (spoken word c. 2017)
Your argument is that my words
don’t flow
so very well
When in fact
REALITY IS
you’ve never seen a fairy tale
Yet you STILL BELIEVE in the UNSEEN
Like life flutters by on a butterfly’s wing
Quick and insignificant beings
Infinitesimal in RESPECT to the INSEPARABLE
Relation of the First Nation's placement
In a White Man’s World
THIS IS WHERE ASSIMILATION displaced the spiritually AWAKENED
Taking PEOPLE
and spaces that can’t BE rePLACED
No compensation for the COLONIALIST CREATIONS
And my GRANDMOTHER’S BONES
ARE STILL
BURIED
BELOW
YOUR BASEMENT
They VEHEMENTLY held no regard for the THINGS WE HELD SACRED
Wakaŋ Wíŋyaŋ now DOUBLE FACED
As Tȟatè turns his cheek
to the bloodied city streets
And empty moccasins worn by our STOLEN SISTERS’ FEET
Lead to the RED RIVER
of pity,
prayers,
and condolences
EMPTY PROMISES KEEPS FEEDING THE HOPELESSNESS
WHO HOPE FOR LESS DEATH and BREATH
that can fill our lungs
So despite GENOCIDE our ANCESTOR’S SONGS can still be sung
In the LANGUAGE of the MOON and the SUN
Where the STAR NATION PUNCTUATED
the story of Our Creation
Setting up the sky for the next generation to continue our efforts for decolonization
Waŋna to all KIDS, I say–
INDIGENIZE your REPRESSION,
ALCHEMIZE your DISDAIN
Turn your perceived
PURPOSELESSNESS into PURPOSEFUL renditions of pain
Paint your purposes in LINES
that describe your OWN histories
Culture is an UNFINISHED PUZZLE, and YOU’RE THE MISSING PIECE
…s
Many spirits have been lost in the DESECRATION, FAMINE, AND DISEASES
That spread just like the rumors of GOLDEN RIVERS and the WORD of JESUS
SO PLEASE DON’T BLESS ME WHEN I SNEEZE, Miss
I’m breathing OUT, dispersing SEE(DS)
Sowing my ROOTS in
YOUR GARDEN
FORCIBLY
I’ll harvest my CROP, and I must say–it grew up gorgeously
Just like little me
As my life is not a perfect story,
nor is it ugly
I brewed up a pretty potion and sip on it humbly
Cause there’s no lovin’ me
it’s inherently redundant
SEE I WAS BORN WITH GIFTS AND BLESSINGS OF GREAT ABUNDANCE
It only makes SENSE that IM SACRED just like the Sundance
And my steps are intentional, while you got LOST without a compass
As your OVAL officers OVER indulgence of BLOOD DIAMONDS at their luncheons,
Serving feasts to the CONQUISTADORS, CONDEMNING INDIANS to DUNGEONS
WHITENESS is what we run from–
You bask in IMPERIALIST NOSTALGIA
BORN and RAISED to COLONIZE JUST LIKE YOUR PREDECESSORS TAUGHT YOU
But in all seriousness, I’d kindly decline your offer
I don’t want apologies, I just want you to love your daughters
And teach YOUR SONS that NATIVES are not SAVAGE like the Huns
Hitting the TEETH with tongue to PRODUCE the sounds of ancestral drums
That introduces the FRUITION of a lost and forgotten love
That safe feeling like when you get WRAPPED UP in an AUNTIE’S HUG
ROLLING in the GRASS free of G.O.O.N.S., PREACHERS, and THUGS
To be FREE is to be a KID given appropriate ounces of wisdom
Enough to be virtuous but NOT ENOUGH to be DISMISSIVE
So miss me with your NICHES because we’ve got to save the children
From these WESTERN INSTITUTIONS that are MASS PRODUCING DESTITUTION
That make a Native student want to give up on resolutions
Like– YOU COULD’VE BEEN A FIRST GENERATION COLLEGE GRADUATE
You promised to NEVER WALK AWAY just like your dad had did
Now you BLEW IT and it makes you hella sad and shit
But you couldn’t have prepared for that, NAH you couldn’t have planned for it
But you SHOULDN’T have STOPPED DREAMING, STAYED WOKE, and KEPT RUNNING
Ain’t a day goes by I’m not plenty mad for you cousin cause what’s a RED YOUNGIN' to do
When whiteness inherently provides those with blue eyes a head start with WINGED SHOES
While brownness gets you LESS, YES, just enough to always lose
And now you want my skin color?
DISTRACTING US by dangling booze
I’m UNCIVILIZED, DEcolonized, while you’re sporting sweatshop shoes
They pretend it’s an HONOR
To die for AMERI-K-K-KUH
No, it’s not– it's a PITY
It’s a COMPANY
I mean, it’s a COUNTRY that forces men to BUST CAPS in CIVILIANS
ABANDON their children, LIVE and DIE TO KEEP PILLS IN MILLIONS
Its a DESPOT so whatever the fuck I’m in my feelings
I hope you GET GOT and good luck with all the killing
Martyrs
Even to this day our worlds are much different. Your success is not the same as mine. I do not
wish to live among skyscrapers and wear clothes that could feed entire blocks in communities
on the side of town you’ve never been to. I can not beat the pavement when my people are still
praying for saviors. You want me to comply with the institutions you built over the bones of my ancestors and constructed to suppress their grandchildren. In a time when we are actively stitching our histories back into the seams of the American flag, each individual stitch soaked with the blood of millions of beautiful brown babies forced to become martyrs. You want me to create art that appeals to the senses of the descendants of barbaric murderers and slave owners. Please do not ask this of me because resistance is inevitable. Please do not ask this of me because you will be disappointed.
R3BIRTH
I've never been poor
My heart is my generational wealth
Collecting paint, bricks and portraits, I’ll keep my art all to myself
Because I truly hate the fascists that make life a living hell
Don’t wanna talk or see ‘em, go spit shine the altar bells
Contacted reefer madness, it releases funny smells
And contrabands not cheap but y’all can never be yourselves
Poppin' a band a week on party
candy, plenty rails
No please, none for reckless bandits wreaking havoc like myself
But they got fun plans for parties, check it, pin-the-tail-on-the-junkie
So when they’re walking backwards wretched
they can leave them on a subway
And catch the next one back to the crib
While they are lying face up in their piss
Like there ain’t nothing to be seen here, no there’s nothing to rebuke
So let’s just skip to the part where these bandits find better things to do
Now their eyes hold pinpoint pupils and a pulse that needed searching
Ice coated their eyelids then broke open like an urchin
Something has died here,
A spirit that gave up and got lost here
creeping and lurking
heaving and hurtin’
Teething and turning
Like infants that needed some learning
But got beat undeserving
I simply breathe in and disperse true histories that I see
Visions that need nurturing it’s not always plain to see
Great Plains gave me purpose, the MAKOČHE is me
Dig deep under surface you’ll find roots within me
In my minds a great forest, universe inside we
Might sing you a chorus for all the times I’d hide me
Now I want to be seen look up and peep what I be
Do I glow just like how you thought I would gleam?
Just a star kid on a course to sleep walk in my dreams
And walk like I know where I’m going to be.
Walk along and beat the bush collect the berries in my skirt
Then I thank every tree and put tobacco to the dirt
You’ll want to follow me I got a knowledge for the thirst
On how to water everything, sewing seeds with pretty words
Before I gulp mnisni and fill my belly with a curse
This part you have to see, I give all parts of me to her
Moon spirit, her and me, we put something in this verse
Heart, spirit, chamomile, anguish, beauty, hurt,
tears, time, and teeth, tiny screams, and giant smirks
Heavy cream, and peaches, pussy power, dreams, and perks,
wahanpi, wasna, pheži, coffee, talent that I nursed
So what you feel is me, she, he, we, and her
It’s Nothing to be believed
It’s exists without your words
Magick happens all the time
This is something that I heard
Before I got here there was a pill to numb the fear
In everywhere I turned there was a hill that helped reveal
In every bridge i burned, another one was engineered
Like every page I turned I gained a skill that inched me near
I cracked my skull, blood seeped from my ear onto the earth
My weary heart was broken but I had to get up and learn
Aside from always smoking I have to dodge the thorns and ferns
To keep the haters choking, on their last dying words
Singin’, I no longer care about the wicked looks and glares
It'll burn holes in your eyelids if you don’t divert your stares
Destroyed all of my chairs so now I sit upon the earth
Telling stories for the faeries, the midwives of my rebirth
Now Inside the city dwells a troll that laughs before he car hops
So keep your doors locked and keep your kids off of the sidewalk
Is it safe to come out? Guardian angels got the night off
They remain in doubt if they should save us from the tidals
No respect for clout give a god damn about your titles
If you was a man you’d sacrifice your wealth and rifles
Say fuck that ceiling fan and grab your wife and kids and fight for
Freedom from a filthy flag that keeps your fearful of the night fall
And say
We no longer care about the crooks that got us here
Don’t give your souls to Lucifer, he’ll just lock you in his lair where he
Deployed all of his ares now they suffer under the earth
Where he sits Spittin’ flames at Virgin Mary,
Furnaced all the kids that she just birthed
I broke through the fluid sac transcended
There’s a spark that’s riveting, it flared as I fed it everything
I burned up all my gifts and vivid dreams of peasant kings
One that’d do just about anything under the sun
including fasting and praising summer suns,
no procrastinating, start the drum
He bat shit crazy he fights for fun
Want to be my baby, know I don’t hold my tongue
I no longer care about your wicked looks and glares
You’ll burn holes on your eyelids if you don’t divert your stares
Destroyed all of my chairs so now I sit upon the earth
Spittin’ my stories for the faeries, the midwives of my rebirth
About the author: Lakota Kikyo is an Oglala/Hunkpapha Lakota ceramics, spoken word, and rap artist. They grew up in Sioux Falls, SD finding themselves submerged in the subculture of hip hop that existed within the world of their peers. Enduring the suffering of spiritual deprivation, financial hardship, and other trauma, this love of hip-hop music and visual art provided a sustainable source of passion for looking forward to when times were dark. With this eternal fire they’ve procured, Lakota Kikyo intends to tell her story and create intellectually stimulating and fun music that fellow music lovers can enjoy.
About the illustrator: Erika Sakata is a first-generation, non-binary multi-medium artist largely focused on traditional/digital illustration, poetry, zine-creating, and design. Their work revolves around themes of personal identity, race, and queer life. They typically explore bright color palettes and sharp imagery. As an individual of Black and Japanese descent, they typically infuse intermingled elements of both cultures into their pieces.
