By Red Ghetto Rebel

Dakota Treaty Territory 

March 29, 2017

It was requested of me to write a story from the perspective of a child on the reservation and how meth impacts their lives. I have taken parts of stories from statements made by child advocates and social workers who listened to stories made by abused children who were removed from their mothers due to their meth addiction.

 

The children are the ultimate victims of the meth addict, not the meth-addict themselves. The children suffer at the hands of those who brought them into this world. They live in a reservation world of violence, rape, abuse, neglect and hopelessness.

 

There is no family dynamic in todays reservation family, truth be told the majority of families today are single parent and almost every time aren’t a result of a “failed marriage” but are caused by a dependence on welfare money.

 

Welfare drives the drug industry on the reservations. The more kids a woman has the longer she can fuel addiction.

 

The reservation has evolved into a pandemic of violent poverty, which normalizes violent acts. Rape, murder, child molestation, child killings, child neglect and abuse all normalized in the environment of meth addiction, drug abuse and alcoholism.

 

Reservation Indians have desensitized perverted, violent, and criminal acts. The people have replaced simple social behaviors with anti-social and sociopathic behaviors and accepted it as normal.

 

When a community and a family doesn’t condemn child molesters or child abusers as wrong or remain indifferent about meth induced rapes and murders nothing can save the children being born into this social hell. The child’s only purpose in this addiction culture is to fund addictions such as meth and alcoholism with the welfare and TANF checks meant for the children.

 

The by-product of this violent cycle is always youth suicide. They are only reflecting what they are raised in. When they choose to kill themselves it is always rooted in their child molestation and parental drug addictions. The cause of a child’s suicide is always the fault of the parent, and their actions.

 

Victims of a lesser god

 

Looking out the window, where we are going isn’t really clear. Again our mother is dragging us from one abuser to another abuser. The violence has become part of our routine.

 

It’s the end of the month and for us kids it means we will get our rations of bologna and bread, candy and chips for the month while she searches for another place to drop us off, paid for with the welfare check she just cashed today.

 

Last week, yesterday and the day before were a hop, skip, and a jump toward today’s hell. Repeated every first of the month and weekends in between. She dropped off my half siblings and I at this new place this time, so she could go “party” again. She usually stays gone long enough for us to notice. With no goodbyes she rushes out of the house leaving us here to watch TV or play video games until she returns.

 

This house is dangerous and we know it. The older kids and the adults stare at us as a predator would before killing a rat. The other kids here are in the same boat as we are but were all groomed by the perverts of the house over a long period of time and they remain silent.

 

Every house has a secret lurking in its darkness. A pervert or a child molester hunts for victims when the lights go out, or when everyone gets drunk. I have to hide.

We all have learned how to hide from the drunks and druggies who stagger back into these housing houses. When the perverts see new kids at their house they salivate waiting for their opportunity to rape. And so it begins again, another night of survival. There is always one predator at these “stop overs”, men and or women. In this reservation the pervert is either or. Our mom, in her search to get her meth high, willingly offers us up to these rapists.

 

Our mom doesn’t seem to care what happens to us. She left us many times before. Usually it’s a different house and sometimes it’s the house where everyone is drugged and drunk.

 

She searches for another snag to abuse her. They act like they were “meant to be” just like she did with the last guy last week. This only lasts a few days until the next party and he’s gone with another “Meant to be” victim. Her adolescent “Indian” snags are losers packaged on facebook for the reservation one nighter who doesn’t care if he gets her pregnant.

 

I asked her once not to get pregnant anymore. It seems to me that she always ends up pregnant and gives birth to another baby that she leaves here and there. She never wants to change them and they smell because of it. But this is how she supports her habit. Having babies is the paycheck that fuels her meth addiction and her drunkenness.

 

She hits us when we complain or cry. If she is high she will beat us with what ever she can find. I’ve heard of other kids being kicked to death by their moms, so I try to protect myself when she beats me for telling her to stop “Partying”.

 

She will drive with us to pick up her meth. She leaves us in her car and we do what we can to stay warm. Sometimes there is a blizzard beyond the car window. When she finally returns she isn’t herself. We noticed her smell when she jumps in the car and starts it. She opens her purse and pulls out a light bulb or a tin foil to smoke the crystals that she just spent our food money on. We all choke from the fumes that spew from her mouth before she goes into her seizures. Sometimes she blacks out and sometimes she doesn’t make any sense. We all sit in the car and wait for her to come around which sometimes takes awhile.

 

My little brothers and sisters huddle in the back seat. The baby, dressed only in a dirty diaper, is crying again because of the cold. Our mom yells out to “Shut that fucken baby up!!” which only makes it worse.

 

Mom wakes up and starts the filthy SUV that smells like dog shit because when she travels she brings her dog and it shits and pisses in the back of the SUV. We drive to another place so she can smoke what she has left with her friends.

 

We all enter the house and see many grown-ups sitting around the table drunk and laughing. Meth made them all mad. They drink down their smoke with beer or wine, choking on the chemicals that they pass around the table.

 

“Throw your kids in the other room!” one yells… as our mom says, “go in there and don’t raise hell or ill beat your ass in front of everyone. “

 

As the night progresses the madness gets worse. The men start beating the women. Women start beating each other. Cousins snagging cousins, kids getting raped, the adults blowing their meth smoke into the faces of the children as the others laugh about it, women who passed out being dragged into the rooms by the men.

 

Our mother isn’t even here. She left with another guy and didn’t care to tell us. We have to hide and not get noticed by the adults. If they don’t notice us maybe we wont get abused or molested. Sooner or later they will find out we are there alone. Sooner or later they will know our mother isn’t there.

 

Another day of survival on the meth trail with our mother, another day in reservation child hell.

 

My mom won’t stop until one of us dies or she does. No one cares about us because they all have hells of their own to live. Sometimes the only escape is death.

 

In the end we learn how to accept the abuse to become abusers ourselves. Our violations were the result of the children murderers and their pedophiles who walked us to our suicides. They silence us children for a reason.

 

Mom… you did this to us, you killed us, you taught us, you are responsible for what happened to all us children. Your addiction to meth was the reason we are tortured before we died. Yet you cry when its time to bury the children. Never once blaming your self or the criminals and pedophiles that you left us with. Finally acting out the role of loving parent at our caskets like you gave a shit.

 

Maybe you need to stop having more kids? Maybe you should be imprisoned? Maybe you should tie your tubes? Something needs to be done to keep you from dragging another child through your selfishness and drug abuse. You eagerly run to fill out another state welfare application for another suicide to raise in this reservation hell.

 

Your “woman’s” heart wasn’t lying on the ground defeated you sold it for meth. You cooked your tribal sovereignty in the meth spoon and praised State TANF for another high. You preach tradition from your meth-induced hustle to slip past the eyes of a dysfunctional society already in denial.

 

Today we drive again to repeat the cycle over. Tomorrow will be the same until one of us overdoses on violence and rape.

 

If you want to know the truth just look at the children. They reflect the undeniable truth. If you can’t see the abuse in their eyes you are probably blind or high. If you want to save the next generations show no sympathy for meth addicts.

 

 

Long Live the Fighters!!

By Red Ghetto Rebel 

Dakota Treaty Territory 

March 26, 2017

Sitting on a microcosm of hell doesn’t mean you have Satan’s power.

Ignoring truth is like ignoring fate.

Normalcy becomes the shackles that imprisons all youth.

In retrospect even the air can hate.

Unlike faith, insanity has no real truth.

In hopes light, the deranged cower.

 

Casting judgment from the view of a Tribal Council seat is a fool’s hypocrisy.

Sovereignty is a bloodstained murder scene under this light of hope.

You exist in the way that you exist because of the cycle in which you perpetrate.

You slumber in its dormant wake unable to awaken from your infectious dope.

Another day you creep through the timeless momentum that you perpetuate.

Don’t be fooled by the irrelevant motions of incredible stupidity.

 

The smell of rotting afterbirth still permeates the threshold of your tomorrow.

Grandfather’s sky did once care but your fowl breath drove it to impurity.

There still is the sadist that you must eventually face.

In the ever-longing echo of the hourglass sand of a vicious eternity.

The day revolves into the same day as before and into its next disgrace.

Mental oblivion can sometimes be erratic in your morbid sorrow.

 

It all depends on the vision that you left in the bleeding vein.

As the shit flies spin into the rotting essences of your hopelessness.

They listen to the rumors and gossip that drives the mechanics of violence.

Bare skin addiction crawls from one end to the next with acidic ruthlessness.

Those voices become the nails driven into your fat tissue fraudulence.

You desire its lust in the strain of temptation to bleed again.

 

The meth blood drips from your mouth as viral affliction.

As your spiteful hands grasp for the air.

When the sun sets, the demon rips through your absolution.

The meth memories of a sleepless night scratch out your despair.

If the violent can speak of love its in the tongue of perversion.

Shoving your determination into your minds addiction.

 

Toward the flame you fly ready to suck like a dog in heat.

Lapping up the feces with delight as the meth cooks your soul again and again.

The clock ticks and the smoke tocks in an erratic frenzy.

The zombie rot cradles your inner child memories where it all began.

Into the pile of burnt offerings you fall for all to see.

They await you with their Tribal resolutions in hand stained by defeat.

 

They make their council motions and move to banish your unholy choices.

As the Native children die in the chemical filled darkness of your depression.

Their beaks open wide waiting for the Indian reservation scraps to fall.

Unable to stand on your own two feet as the meth eats your gray matter obsession.

Slurred speech of your hopeless cause, contempt’s all.

Its chemical enticement kills your purpose with those bi-polar voices.

 

Sitting alone you close your eyes to visualize this ubiquitous lie.

Trying to live through the illusions that masked your molestation.

Walking without moving, into the unknown housing unit you stagger.

A heart covered by tinfoil and permafrost shade of Indian Reservation.

Smoldering waste seeps from your syringe shaped dagger.

Sagging your pants because you are open for business as you slowly die.

 

Cannibalizing your own heart with brown rotting teeth you spew.

Those lifeless eyes begin to roll back into your chemical schizophrenic abyss.

The meth-induced seizures that render your reality mute.

On the door of death, begging for redemptions kiss.

The venom pit is telling you to eat its forbidden fruit.

With your mangy arms outstretched you embrace the meth spoon residue.

 

Your insanity drains red from your eyes.

Weeping your infection to dry upon your face.

Unable to see your deformed inception.

But the world sees your needle track embrace.

Try as you might, the sores expose your deception.

Urine and your life share your truth and your lies.

 

Your open sores spit disease into the eyes of your children.

As you commit another soul to starvation.

The pocket change devil needs it’s offering.

Nickel and dime your way to damnation.

You lie to your children to watch their suffering.

Your addiction is now your glorified villain.

 

Your entitlement is your rod and your pity your staff.

They comfort you in your demented hour.

Insecurity replaced with reservation delirium.

Ready to beat your children to death with your meth induced power.

Slitting their throats in your worthless continuum.

The meth turned your inevitable fate into a violent hate and tore your soul in half.

 

Believing you are god in your meth high torture.

A soulless single celled dysfunctional Indian.

In those who enable you, you demand their sympathy.

Once the nightmare wears off you stumble from your shadowy oblivion.

Looking for pity and gangrene empathy.

You awaken to your rape, your murder, your horror.

 

Weeping for mercy, they smile behind your back.

The lunatic has become a primordial addict.

No excuse can erase the disgusting reality.

As a meth addict its only pain you inflict.

Unable to stop your unholy brutality.

They want lives to molest and innocence to attack.

 

Meth addicts cannot be healed with dysfunctional love.

The cell door is their only medicinal cure.

Imprisonment removes them from their meth addiction.

Incarceration is their hell for sure.

They must be segregated from their rabid affliction.

In their despair they can find what a soul is made of.

 

The meth addict must be thrown into the pit.

They must fight with their own survival.

Alone they must be staked.

To the crucifix of despair and deprival.

It is the only way is to face their demon that forsakes.

And confront the memories that started it.

Long Live the Fighters!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Red Ghetto Rebel

 March 23, 2017

Dakota Treaty Territory 

Meth is the chemical soul killer. Unlike the vice of alcoholism, meth destroys the anatomy of the family. Eating away at the brain, deforming reality while digging holes into the spongy gray matter of life.

 

Meth addiction drowns our people into a deeper ocean of insanity. Slowly they sink toward the bottom, void of light, until the pressure put upon their physical self implodes into a sudden and instantaneous death.

 

The afflicted slip away from their own normality, hiding their addiction from themselves. A mirror to a meth addict is a liar. Their demented reflection is denial.

They will never admit that they use meth because to them this truth is horrid and apocalyptic.

 

These addicts would sacrifice their own sons and daughters for their sadistic chemical lust, chemical love. Driving them from one reservation meth dealer to another, while their children inhale the second hand suicide that spews from the mouths of their mothers and fathers.

 

Junkies only fool themselves… they only see what their meth mites want them to see. They can only comprehend the next crystalline release that they can smoke from the tin foil violence that plagues them.

 

Their mouth becomes their tribal banner for their unholy cause. Rotting and missing teeth that were dissolved into brown pieces of dementia by the chemical cocktail that gives them their gratification. Driving each nail into their flesh upon their crucified future.

 

They smile with tightly closed lips to hide the visible evidence of meth use as the worms bore holes through their brain slowly eating their brain cells like maggots in a rotting apple.

 

Reservation meth to a reservation family is like giving a cancer patient gasoline to drink or treating a bullet wound with urine. The reservation meth addicts are men and women, boys and girls… they are strung out likes moths to a butane flame.

 

The light bulb once used to bring light into the darkness of a home, now used by the meth addict to inhale the psychopathic darkness into their miserable bloodstream. Inhaling its satanic vile into their incapacitated lungs stained by drain cleaner.

 

The voices that whisper to them, guide their battery acid lucidity into their mental oubliette. They become imprisoned by their own justifications. Unable to find peace in reality, they search for it in the needle or the meth pipe. Encouraging others close to them to drown with them, calling it sovereignty.

 

Deeper they go into the abyss of oppression, deeper into that darkened lightless enigma of depression. They boil their own blood in chemicals in hopes to find a cure for their insecurity and obesity. They try to wring out the rags of reservation poverty with their weak state of mind, unable to admit that they are insane. They never confront their misery even as they scratch the skin off their bodies. They throw their fetus to the dogs to fight over, insuring that the next generations will be cursed to accompany them into their nightmare.

 

Many of our relatives are meth addicts. Many of them are doomed. Some have sunk deeper than others into their ocean of despair and in their darkness they found violence. Their brains have been reduced to a porous, damaged damnation. They are skinned animals that are in continuous pain, unable to realize reality. They are close to the pit of hell as they sink to the bottom and the closer they get to the bottom feeders the louder the torturing voices become.

 

It’s just another form of suicide. It just takes longer to die. Unlike the hanging rope… meth is a slow and painful death. Inhaling acid to get high is truly a sign that something is psychologically wrong. The act of using meth, in itself, is the same as the act of tying a noose or putting a gun to your head.

 

A person addicted to meth only hides their lie. They physically deflate into sickness and lifelessness right in front of your eyes and its sad to watch. Family and friends that you grew up with, have that holocaust look. A smell of death permeates off them with a touch of white chalky mental corrosion coating their skin. Imprisoned in their own minds by their inner child anti-Christ.

 

Some say we need to have sympathy for the meth addict. This is true to an extent. When we see a rabid dog… we do have sympathy for it but we would never bring it into our house and give it love. If it bites one of our children, or our family, or us we would also become insane.

 

Meth addiction is the human equivalent to rabies. Both have the same outcome. Both die, in the end, if untreated. When a dog has rabies it becomes extremely violent, its world is no longer static. It will kill or savagely attack without provocation. The rabid dog is a threat to all people it comes into contact with. A meth addict is a threat to the whole community. They live in a disillusioned world of selfishness and lament and find their own deranged reasons to rape, assault, murder, or molest others in their psychotic state of mind.

 

Sympathy could get your child raped or murdered. Sympathy could get you killed. There is no logical reason to “enable” anyone who is addicted to meth, they must be banished from your family if you want to ensure your families safety. Their instability is unpredictable. Sooner or later they will slice your hope and faith with their rusty knives of mental illness. Are you willing to pay that price?

 

The deviant meth users are probably standing next to you now. They are probably posting to Facebook about how great they are and yet their lack of teeth says otherwise. There are functional meth addicts who lead pipeline causes, who sit on councils or work in departments of the tribe. These are the most dangerous because they legislate meth addiction as a non-threat and laugh it off as normality. They have their wide eyed look of insanity after they run to their car to take a hit every couple hours and return cockeyed and insane with more excuses to look the other way.

 

Where a dog doesn’t really have a say in catching rabies, the meth addict runs to it with arms stretched open and embraces it with a schizophrenic desire. A functional dog, with rabies, infecting the children with their meth stained breath.

 

Meth isn’t like any other addiction and it shouldn’t be approached like one. The addict is of a different category than an alcoholic would be. Knowing this means that the actions that must be taken toward intervention and treatment shouldn’t be the same as that of an alcoholic. The meth addicts psyche is physically ripped apart which means their empathy is nonexistent. With some addicts the damage is permanent. They become effigies of their former selves. Their souls are no longer the same. They will respond with violence or bi-polar confusion.

 

They must be forced into detoxification. Detoxify by force and by doing so without sympathy. Meth must be removed from their lives completely by removing them from the paradigm. A meth addict will sacrifice their own children for their addiction. They have no guilt or remorse in sacrificing anyone for their addiction.

 

Our relatives don’t see insanity as abnormal. They enable addiction by ignoring it. They honor the violence committed by violent addicts before they would honor success. They pander to the meth addicts and call it support. This is what keeps meth alive on the reservations, domestic enabling and dysfunctional love.

 

Ignoring their pain doesn’t cure a rabid animal. In this case, love or a disillusioned interpretation of love won’t save the souls of the damned. Only truth can set you free.

 

Fermented fruit doesn’t produce Drano. The chemicals eating the flesh inside a person’s brain on meth isn’t holistic in nature. Rubbing acid on your flesh because your addiction tells you its lotion will eventually dissolve you into hell. The steps used to fight alcoholism cannot be used to fight chemistry. The cause and effect are dramatically different.

 

In the end it will overtake you. It is an inevitability that will come, unavoidable and seeking to destroy the tribes. Maybe the mythical black snake prophesy wasn’t a “pipeline”… maybe it was meth all along.

 

The time has come for all to stop looking away. Ignoring the truth. Face the meth addicts in your homes, in your communities. Stop hugging them like they fell of the swing set at the playground. Stop helping them kill themselves. Only a sadist enjoys inflicting and prolonging pain.

 

Get them help even if that means getting them arrested. Save those children, who idly standby and watch you, as you force-feed dysfunction and destruction into the mouths of the afflicted with the meth spoon of fate. Enabling them makes you partially responsible for their death.

 

There are two paths in front of our tribes. One leads down an uncertain and harsh direction and the other leads to the death of our people. Whether we like it or not we have to go down the path that will hurt us all and hopefully in the end we will have saved something for our future relatives but if we ignore the truth and walk down the path of death we will reap what we sow.

 

It all begins right where you are, at this moment and it begins with confronting truth.

 

 

Long Live the Fighters! 

By Red Ghetto Rebel

Dakota Treaty Territory 
 

“A proud (vain) look.

A lying tongue.

Hands that shed innocent blood.

A heart that deviseth wicked acts.

Feet that be swift in running to mischief.

A false witness that speaketh lies.

He that soweth discord among brethren.”

 

The Christians have a proverb, which defines the seven sins of humankind. It describes the selfishness and corrupted agenda of people who would do anything to anyone for gain, people who would sell their own soul for fame.

 

I say Christians in the context of this issue because assimilation requires integration of the mind into this narrative.

 

Our Native people aren’t immune to assimilation. There are those who deny being colonized and accuse others of it. Our people have frauds who will lie and cheat to get their fame and money. They use a deformed perception of native culture to brainwash the ignorant into giving up their liberties and when they don’t have the cultural piece of the puzzle to justify their lies they make one up and spoon feed it to their new born fanatics.

 

They subjugate and suppress the integrity of others to hide their criminality. These are the worst of the self righteous assimilated “Reservation Indians” who feel that need to have a white man or woman physically stroke their ego. These frauds are woven into the collective fabric of white washed colonization, of course they are the first to call anyone colonized when someone exposes their deviant agenda.

 

In the times that we live in today many Natives have embraced Christianity. Some may say they are traditional to their native heritage but in the end they follow and pray with our enemies religion.

 

These fraudulent natives evolve into the white man’s culture with a bi-polar gratification only found in the mentally ill. They have developed a morbid obsession with the values of the white bigots who pour beer on native children. Unfazed by the reality of their unprecedented obsession, they corrupt without remorse.

 

All people are driven toward the future by their faith. It is this faith that changes with every new experience. Along this path many will stumble upon a cause or a movement. They embrace these convictions with a naïve stride and an open faith. Some are susceptible to fraud. They fall into a web of deceit and are so intoxicated with the venom of lies and stereotypes that they allow themselves to be wrapped in a cocoon of misguided belief while their predator devours and sucks what little they have from their inside out.

 

They fooled the masses using their media stereotyped lies and fake dream-catcher promises of an unattainable tomorrow. These Indian reservation neighborhood media whores who panhandled their gofundme bigamy to all victim trolls of facebook were and still are to this day maliciously guided by racial ENVY.

 

Poverty porn sells in their colonized Rez-meriKKKa. They babble bullshit for donations while labeling those who question them as “traitors”. They use those who left home and stood with them as pawns on their “checkerboard” of exploitation. Preaching, spewing, regurgitating, broadcasting their gospel of “gok” mouthed flatulence over their live-streamed iPhone soapboxes begging for more donations.

 

These charlatans eventually start believing their own lies. They start seeing themselves as the plastic caricature image that they sell to their followers. When they strut through their demented disciples playing Jesus they forget to notice that the people who know what they are truly about and who they truly are in their local reservation-housing cluster are watching them. Observing them play out their scam.

 We see you.

We live in the same neighborhoods as you. We all knew you were liars and thieves before you even started sucking that microphone with your gourmandizing oration. We recognized that obese double chin slapping your chest as you spit lies with involuntary GLUTTONY.
 

You told these followers that you were the next water messiah. You told them that you were the native chosen one and yes… they believed you because of their stereotyped Ten Little Indians image of you.

 

They laid down their freedom for your lie and all you wanted was their money and their loyalty, not to question your fraudulent scam. Like a pedophile, you groomed them and led them away to your camp to molest their reality while threatening them if they told anyone the truth. Your lust guides your megalomania and perversion, you blind yourself with your own lies and fall straight into that reservation hell you were born and bred into.

 

When you stole the financial donations we knew you would because it’s in your ravenous nature. Your vile SLOTH of discord precedes you.

 

You may have fooled those hippies and Enviros but you didn’t fool us. From our viewpoint we could see what was coming and what you were bringing to our reservations. We know the true feral dog you were bred to be. We know that you weren’t what you claimed to be. Playing a leader when you can’t even lead your own family out of reservation meth and alcohol addiction. Even now you squirm at the audacity of this reality as you read this narrative of you. You will justify your corruption by coming up with more lies and excuses back in the deepest part of your consciousness to reaffirm to yourself that you are what you think you are. This is typical behavior for a colonized and assimilated nut-bag unable to accept truth or process it. Denial is the root of ANGER.

 

Like good “Injuns”, these media sluts fractionated their protectors. They started their micro-cults and reinforced the indoctrination of their protest minions with facebook brainwashing and gofundme updates.

 

These full of lies gofundme creeps became ghetto rich and stuffed their pockets with as much money and donations as they could. They set up their gofundme and paypal schemes with its dirty, fraudulent umbilical cord still attached directly to their bank account wombs, never once thinking that its wire fraud. Too intoxicated by GREED to realize the simplicity in discovering their criminal stupidity.

 

As it became apparent after the fact, they stole your disability payment, they stole your savings, they stole your retirement, they stole your paycheck and they laughed and shit on you when you asked what happened with it?

 

We watched and warned you all but you didn’t listen. By all accounts it’s your fault that you fell for it. You were drawn into their Indian reservation cults as they cooked your brains with rotted fantasies and infectious zoster. Like the Manson Family or Jim Jones followers, you gulped their kool-aid and ran to violence with open arms at the behest of your rez cult saviors, while they recorded you and exploited your suffering for personal profit.

 

They slapped a hand drum with songs they learned from facebook posts and preached prophesies and prayers packaged and sold at the Mt. Rushmore tourist shop. Their PRIDE is their mace that they spray into your eyes to blind you from the truth. They raped that pity and belief that you embraced, for their inglorious gratification.

 

Their seven sins didn’t discriminate because of the color of your skin or whether or not you are a hippy believer, their defacto-discrimination is based of the size of your donations. Their rainbow has a pot of wire transfers at the end of it. They only see the green color of money in your complacency and only LUST after your ego stroke.

 

Those who rolled in and expected a utopia only reinforced their corrupted agenda. Where the water pawn-tectors saw a cause… the poverty porn stars saw victims willing to stroke their Pan American Indian narcissism. 

They used you, they used the cause, and they used your ignorance against you. Some even rapped about it. They domestically violently beat you with their open handed ostentatious propaganda and called it love. They subliminally begged you not to tell.

 

Assimilation takes on many forms. The assimilated are guided by their actions. Their identity was erased from their family history long ago, generations born again and again into a new deformed abusive contemporary cycle of violence and neglect. Colonization domesticated that part of them deep inside, that part that is catatonic and never awakens and what is left is their fraudulent narcissistic personality that is the living epitome of the seven deadly sins.

 

Everything around all of us influences our perception of humanity but if a dysfunctional society teaches the mind of a reservation Indian to be corrupt from birth the outcome is tyranny whether that be tyranny as a parent or tyranny as a tribal leader or water protector. This is an undeniable fact.

 

In the end… There were those who had good intentions and integrity who came to fight and to be fought, but you don’t know them because they were getting beaten, maced, arrested and shot at.

 

Never once did I see any of the gofundme frauds take a rubber bullet, or a baton to the head. Their version of a stand was to stage an arrest to get in the press to solicit more money. They laughed and bragged about it while no one was watching like children playing with matches, immediately followed by the, ceremonial, passing around of the online donation collection bowl.

 

While the loud mouth snake oil saleswomen and men morphed into snake handling evangelicals, speaking in corrupted tongues, spasming on live stream, the innocent watched and fell for their slithering semantics.

 

Rhythms of the dark reservation, thrown into the kettle with a powwow shindig. Stir it around a few times, pull it out as a fine American Indian Fraud.

 

Even today they still exploit. They are addicted to what they created… they were galvanized by the celebrity and attention that got stuck in their web of lies. Giggling every time they check their bank account.

 

As the fires burned out and the victims were forcibly evicted by reservation collusion and tribal political hypocrisy, what was left in the aftermath was deceit.

 

Millions raised but now being gorged before the Internal Revenue Service starts asking questions. In their stupidity they wont report it on their taxes thinking tribal sovereignty protects them from prosecution. To the IRS, the reservation and the Indians are just another jurisdiction. Tribal sovereignty doesn’t protect its members from federal tax evasion on federal lands. You can’t escape death and taxes no matter how many times you justify it with entitlement.

 

In the end it morphed into a scam. It may have started with good intentions but it ended in a blaze of despotic glory. The victims will go to jail and court, the pipeline project will be completed, the disenfranchised will become homeless, while the reservation frauds look for new victims.

 

They are in denial of what tomorrow will bring. Eventually the hound dogs of the bigots will sniff them out of their hiding places. Run as they will, eventually the devil will want the soul that is owed. Inevitably there is a price to pay. All cult leaders eventually get caught just as all criminals get thrown in jail. Even now you are being hunted. 

LONG LIVE THE FIGHTERS!!!!