Death Lament of an Ogalala Warrior - rock and roll poetry

Contact Starcrost
Attention campers! Don't forget to listen to the music before you leave here - (click on this)

This poem won the coveted Nova Star Award in the First Annual
Starcrost Productions International Poetry Contest.

Death Lament of an Ogalala Warrior

Maybe you think I can make it
Maybe you think I'll get by
But I think that I've got a better solution
A warrior's fate is to die

I used to live on towering mountains
All covered with life and 10,000 feet high
I used to feel the power of rivers
Till all of my rivers ran dry

Slaughtered in the valleys and forests
Dying with brothers we love
Honor in the field of battle is the only blessing left from spirits above

No more herds of wild horses
No hunting for the buffalo
No more wandering on the great plains
No more worshiping the gods we know

The hoop is finally broken
Wasichu has finally won
The thunder beings of all our horizons will meet us no more in the sun

I had just finished reading the true story of how Wasichu (the Indian's name for the white man) had committed genocide and slaughtered the last of the Ogalala tribe. Somehow, I connected on a spiritual level with the Indians and I felt a great shame for my own "race". This poem came to me in a matter of minutes, and I still think it's a good one. I often think about how so many "Americans" believe we are such a great nation, but every single brick of our American house is built on the true native American Indians' graveyard.