The DETH Addict

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!!











Battery Acid Lucidity 

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! 

The 7 Sins of Assimilation 

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. 


Silence Kills Children 

By Red Ghetto Rebel

January 30, 2017

Lower Brule, S.D. 

She hides in the shadows with her razor blades and the reservation drugs twisting into her flesh attempting to escape that truth and this reservation reality. She collects nightmare memories in silence when her tribal leader uncle or her aunt’s husband or her step dad slips past the threshold of midnight toward her with his deviant intent.


All these days slip past into the next and the next and in silence she has to be aware that at any moment he may stare. His pedophilia is his god. He wraps his hands around the throats of the children in the camp killing them with threats and lies tying that woven rope of fate around their extended family necks. 

Someone should kill these pedophiles, men and women. Someone should castrate their souls. They need a mandatory lobotomy.


These tormentors enforce silence in lieu of a death threat or a life threat against the helpless children who they groomed to rape.


They have mastered the art of lying to the tribe. They are experts at luring your children into the darkness and shadows where there are no witnesses. Their victims are many. They prey on them throughout the night and daylight, hidden within the sovereignty slum, hiding behind tribal jurisdiction, extended family and enrollment like cockroaches in a bread sack.


These pedophiles rape children at will for the sake of their own perversion and silence is their weapon. The people are so deformed by reservation hate that their silence can be heard in the many suicides on these reservations.


These reservation pedophiles seek out children because they are easy targets in the ghetto drunken repetitiveness of the reservation. No one seems to care. No one wants to acknowledge the truth. They would rather hide behind the fake reservation-ism than face the truth. Their stigma is a stench that permeates the very air they breathe.


They would rather look away when their children get raped than expose the truth. The “Pervert” might be someone they know, someone they call relative. They can justify their silence with their need for dysfunctional family loyalty.


They would rather sell their own souls on Facebook and search for a new loser to snag and call a relationship then protect their children, just as long as it doesn’t affect their TANF check.


Every reservation Indian asks why the reservation is the way it is but seldom acknowledges the reason why the reservation is the way it is. It is because they are too ashamed of the pedophilia, which spawns the drug abuse, alcoholism, tribal corruption, meth, domestic violence, suicide, and oppression, to change it. This dysfunctional list goes on and on.


The root of all reservation evil is pedophilia. It is child rape.


Silence is a form of violence. Being silent is the damnation that all victims suffer. Their self-blame sickness seems incurable. They obsess over what they did to deserve such a punishment in the safety of their own family and tribe. It replays over and over until the rope or the needle speaks to them.


In a raging storm upon an unrelenting and un-forgiven sea, silence always kills those who ignore the suffering waves.


There are many types of silence. Witnessing perversion and remaining silent allows the pervert to molest the children under your roof. Being silent in the presence of the guilty allows the guilty to rape more children. Remember that when he sits in your home or on tribal council or by your children.


These ethereal spirits are born into this world by drunken women and inept men playing relationship like kids playing house. Like dogs in heat once unstuck they sniff out another. They both sacrificed themselves on the Indian reservation alter of welfare and sadism.


To a reservation girl silence is an unwanted companion, put there by the hand of the pervert who held her mouth when they stole her freedom. If she lives she will only live for the depression of the next day. A housing unit is a solitary self-confinement, windowless and emotionless. Its paper thin walls exposes the drunken dreams of the addicts trying to forget in the kitchen as they beat the women with the fist of tribal sovereignty.


Their lost soul was taught silence by the hand and the drooling teeth of their molesters. They were taught silence in the reservation right of passage of child rape. They were educated in silence by the example of their drunken Saturday night relatives dancing around the table like little “injuns” around the fire of drug abuse and alcoholism.


Your silence in the presence of immorality is why you are destitute.


Your silent consent is why you allowed child sexual abuse to thrive within these Indian reservation communities, in your home.


Your silence produced the meth addiction and the alcoholic.


The silent ways of you… kept this abuse alive behind closed doors and shut windows.


Bleeding to death through silence is a slow kill. Looking away from the crimes against your children is the cause of every corruption in your life and the life of the tribe.


A damaged soul is a corrupt soul. All forms of corruption began in that housing unit by the hands of the child molester that you allowed to thrive in the darkened corner of your silent consent.


When you refuse to admit that you knew what was happening but kept quiet because you were too cowardly to stand for all children victims makes you equally responsible for a child’s suicide and a dysfunctional tribe.


Protecting a pedophile relative who has been raping your tribes children isn’t normal, it isn’t cultural, it isn’t sane. Keeping the perpetrator from justice doesn’t make your demons go away. It doesn’t heal your own past.


How many silent suicides must there be before you confront the truth within you? How many children must die before you stop protecting the sexual abuser, the pedophile living next door or in the next room?


The cause of all reservation oppression is pedophilia. The scar tissue of rape never heals in the mind of the raped. They keep it inside and release it as rapists themselves or corrupt tribal officials or both.


When a dog gets rabies they are killed, when a pervert foams at the mouth and molests children they have social rabies and must be put down by any means necessary. Cleansing the reservation of pedophiles will improve the future of the tribe exponentially


When a mother or a person starts listening and believing the victim child, as tough as it may be, they start to accept a truth, a truth that will free their families from the throes of depression. Imagine what would happen to the tribe if all these men and women child molesters were banished for life?


Truth forces silence to come from the shadows of despair.


If your child is in danger… save them, if your child is suicidal… save them. Do this by listening to them. Quit blaming them, quit hitting them, quit burning them when they ask for help or when they speak the truth.


Some parents or parent are too lost to listen, some are too drunk or high to care. The sad thing is some parents are molesters themselves.


It’s not difficult to see a depressed child. You can see that they gave up in their empty stare. You know they are close to suicide but you refuse to allow yourself to do something about it for fear of the dysfunctional reservation retribution. To scared to “Cause Trouble” rather than save a child from suicide.


This isn’t traditional. Looking away and ignoring your people isn’t traditional. Judging others isn’t traditional. Chances are your child is next but you are too arrogant to see it yourself until you find them in your closet hanging from a rope.


It takes a community to confront a pedophile. It takes a tribe to end the silence. It takes only one person with a caring heart to stop a suicide.


Change begins when the people confront the rapist who they have been protecting with the excuse of extended family.


Our people don’t honor the good in our people anymore they honor the rapists returning home from prison. They honor the registered sex offender who raped a young native girl or boy, lured into their sadism because of the silence of the reservation people.


These pedophiles have names and some of them have been caught. A child rapist cannot be reformed by serving a couple years in prison. A cellblock doesn’t change the nature of a pedophile. Castration is the only option.


The Indian reservation has become cultureless, void of the traditional social laws that governed sanity. Without following the actual tribal traditions the people embrace incest. They allow molestation. They normalize violence in the same way that the Black Robes did when they started the demonic tradition of pedophilia.


Pow-wows and beadwork don’t define a native society or the social stability of a native family. A child can get sexually assaulted in the same room a person does beadwork in.


The cultural laws of the tribe define appropriate behavior and respect. When a native community lacks or forgot their cultural teachings a pedophile can rape children without being seen as a threat. He or She can exist without impunity.


In an already socially sick community adding welfare to it is like pouring gas on a flame.


Ending your silence is the change you seek. You can’t find change in another tribally elected official, man or woman. You can’t find change in money or handouts. Poverty on the reservations is a mental illness. No amount of money can change it. Only confronting the demons within the tribes and your families can end the ubiquitous cycle of reservation oppression. A tribal leader, man or woman, who’s self worth was raped as a child cannot lead a nation without having a grudge against life itself.


Quit listening to your dysfunctional relatives telling you to be silent, stay silent, remain silent or their pedophile relative will go to prison if you tell or expose them. Obeying this reservation silence is more damaging to your child’s life then the crime committed against them. Without support, without truth exposed an abused child sees no hope in sight, they see no reason to live because they know the pedophile will return and they know no one will hear them. They will embrace death over life, while the victimizer finds another victim to rape counting on your silence to get away with it.


Salvation begins by listening to the tribal children. It changes when the people stop turning away from the children when they show the signs of abuse.


It stops when you crawl out of your addictions and start to care about the lives you brought into this world. A child doesn’t understand the meaning of their silence but an adult does.


Incarcerating the molester is the first step in changing the reservation.



By Red Ghetto Rebel

January 24, 2017

Lower Brule, S.D. 

Turning away from the truth doesn’t make the demons go away. Ignoring reality only perpetuates insanity. The only way to save your children is to fight for them or avenge them. To save them you must confront what’s wrong with these reservations.
Resolution only happens when you face the demons and drive them out. The reservation demons are real. They are living breathing flesh. They slither through the reservation slums waiting for an opportunity to assault your child.
Putting fictitious excuses on the cause of suicide or drug abuse is the absolute worst excuse that any society can make. Every suicide has a story but to remain silent and not tell their story only allows the pedophiles to reign within reservation communities on both sides of the river or the prairie.
There is an evil in our camps. She was born of depravation and perversion. She slips past everyone giving hand outs along the way. She buys souls for meth and money.
She seeks out her victims and grooms them so as to exploit them. She tells them that she knows them better than they know themselves. She will prostitute your relatives and embrace you as she does it.
She has killed countless young relatives indirectly with her perversion. When they kill themselves chances are she provided the drugs and the circumstances that caused it, chances are she drove them to it.
She ensnares her victims in her web of addiction making them dependent on her, obedient and loyal to her.
She plays her roles well. She can be a motherly security one day and a sister the next. But always she slowly drags her victims from the protective circle of their families to her trailer park nest so she can groom them with her dirty filthy hands and forked slimy tongue.
She has a taste for females and she is proud of that. She was groomed herself which is why she is so good at hiding her responsibility in plain sight and why she likes the women. You probably shook her hand or gave her a hug. You probably gave her money for drugs.
Her Billy bastard ways where engrained into her those many moons ago but the difference is she profits off the suffering of her victims while remaining indifferent. 

A tried and true sociopath with a bank account and a stash for later.
Once captured, she prepares her victims for sale. Luring them into her hole where she rips their dignity to shreds. Once she is finished she guides them through the path of damnation with the light bulb and straw of addiction.
She is the pimp. She is the pedophile. She is the pervert. She hides these personalities with the façade of lies and her seedy obese smile.
She hunts the lost souls of the reservation and reaps them for profit selling their flesh to the white men who depend on her product.
When she fully destroys the souls of the young girls she preys on, she pushes them toward suicide. She “subliminally” encourages it. She blames them in her consoling way. When her victims no longer hold value to her or to themselves she sacrifices them to her lover the Satan of suicide and pays for their funeral and their star quilts with the same money that she sold and exploited them for.
She embraces the families of her victims and tells them how she loved their lost soul. How she is there to help and how she is a shoulder to cry on. The same shoulder that her victim innocently cried on as she walked them to the suicide tree that they replanted together in their back yard.
She uses the same love she used to kill the loved ones. When she is done she wipes her brow and washes her hands and celebrates their life. She martyrs them to lure other young women into her hellhole of conformity and subjugation.
Every moment that she jingles change in her pocket or jingles her keys, she is looking into the eyes of the girls and young women to replace the used up victim she just threw into the pit of despair.
The truth is, if you want to know the truth, you know who SHE is. She embraced you when they lowered your relatives into their grave. She called you when she heard the news, which she expected to hear.
She slowly “drug” you from your truth into her lies so that she can walk away from her implication unscathed. She kissed you and comforted you as she groomed and sold your child to put that change in her pocket and those keys in her hand to jingle.

is reading this right now. Quivering as her sweaty palms clinch and turn. Once she stops reading this she will recite her prayer that the good lord watches over her. Little does she know that the devil, sooner or later, will want what’s due. God left her long ago just as the good did. 

He’s coming for you. The un-holy one is coming for you.
She will call you… because she has to. She has to keep her lies intact and her game. Some will follow her because they are her victims and don’t know it. Others will be forced to look. Forced to face the demon, face what’s wrong with the reservations and how people like her have kept this perversion and corruption alive for so long. They will have to face the truth and the light that comes with it as it shines onto her darkened sins.
The truth sets you free once you face IT.
The dogs usually cry when death comes. They cry today but not for death but because the redeemer walks toward camp looking for the banished and the perverted. Though they run he finds them.
The Great Spirit sends him when evil is in the camp. No white mans religion or bible will save you from your inevitability. Once someone shines the light of truth on you and exposes you, the un-holy one walks from the shadow of the trees, eventually you will walk in its shadow. He’s waiting for you there now.
He will find all your minions and those loyal to you. He will come as a disease, he will come as a cancer, he will come with indifference and he will have no mercy.

We called him for you


The Suicide Nation

By Red Ghetto Rebel

January 22, 2017
Lower Brule, S.D.

“Friends, friends,
I have fought the sun.
He tried to burn me up,
But he could not do it.
Even battling the sun,
I held my own. – Rabbit Boy”
Recently a relative killed herself. The word was that she overdosed.
I imagined that she sat and watched the sun fly by. She slept and dreamt the shadows away waiting for a tomorrow that never came.
When she was born into the sadist temple her sacrifice began. In through the maimed and beaten spirit world of the cluster housing, entering the threshold of life and didn’t return from the doorway of her death. 

Her flesh remained behind as offerings for her dysfunctional family to fight over, ripping whatever materialism and violence they could from her remnants.
Vultures picking at her corpse and at the flesh of her dead and depraved youth that bleed suicide onto mother earth, while her lunatic parents vomit laughter into their snot rags as they molest their brood in the name of sovereignty.
Everyday is another slippage into the level beneath that which is above the horizon of human decency. Lowered into this pit by the hand that birthed her.
The walls of her decrepit house echo with depression and despair as another day and night are woven in to fabric of monotony. 

Was her purpose in vain? 

Her heart lays on the ground soiled with soot of discontent as the demons scratch at her door.
Suicide carries such a message. But it also carries secrets that were never overcome by the victim.
It is always unfortunate when we lose a young life, a young spirit. In the momentum of everyday a soul can sometimes become lost or we lose track of them. Some simply don’t want to be found.
I think back on what she meant to us all, to me and to those who cared. I think of the trail she walked. Looking back to her birth and the steps she took up to her death. I remember how unfortunate it was to be born into her mother’s sadistic world. Like watching an accident from a distance. You can only pray for survival.
I remember the candle of her life and when it was lit when she awoke to this world.
She wasn’t born into happiness. She wasn’t born into stability. He mother carried demons and demonized others with her pain. Sometimes there are far worse realities than a damn silver spoon.
Packed into the reservation cubical lighting her uneasy wick of anxiety as her candle of post-traumatic stress tried to shed its meager light upon the shadows of her insanity, while the molester lurks behind the darkened intent of their stench.
She tried to find the light of day in the lifeless eyes of her mother. In some manner and in some way the macabre illusions of the tomorrows haunted her, infected her. How would she know what form of violence will creep into her living nightmare?
The reservation is a harsh place for a young woman. Perversion festers behind closed doors. Pedophiles lurk in the obvious places. Perverts are great actors they play their rolls well. So when a soul enters this world they’re soon consumed with pain. Body burned by the hands of abuse. Shades of despair move behind the eyes of their innocence.
She had her secrets, as we all do but hers were horrible enough to want to die rather than confront them. The memories she hid ripped her soul apart to a point where life wasn’t medicinal enough to cure.
She existed in that cycle of aimless lucidity, waiting for the tick tock of humanity to end. She wasn’t free and she wasn’t chained… if anything she is oppressed.
The act of this assault comes from the violence around her in her everlasting burden of survivability.
Slowly her shadow of death crept up. Slowly she reached for the needle. She thought about suicide but wouldn’t seek help. If she exposed the secrets of her family and her mother she would surely be alone. Her own demons were whispering to her. When her mother gave her life she also took her innocence. She killed her child before she had a chance to live.
She was a pessimist and an anarchist because she had no choice. She was defeated long ago by the drugs and alcohol consumed by her mother and the welfare wellspring from which she flows.
No searchlight guides her in this stormy prairie sea and not one helpless hand reaches out to pull her out of her reservation uncertainty. If there could be any word to define the child plight in this depravity it would be insanity.
Children born of many fathers each connected to the umbilical cord of demoralized human-hood. The mother and the father no longer have the bond of love, they have the emotional scars of lust and addiction. They breed their own afflictions.
Some people in essence are born to hate. They hate themselves and hate their image. They become sadists, enjoying the pain that others endure. They will inflict pain just to watch the suffering of others or their own children. They will violate and abuse them and call it love. Any person who hates themself has a morbid and perverted interpretation of love. In their truth it isn’t really love at all but perversion and self-aggrandizement.
The mothers and fathers are children themselves. Never growing up, stuck in adolescence playing parent for the monthly bloody moon time of welfare. This paycheck is the poison that is killing the base soul of our native children.
Our relative who killed herself did so because of the pain inflicted by her family. It was by their hands that she gave up. Today, after the fact, they act out the emotion of love, mimicking the despair of loss because she died but in truth they only used, emotionally, sexually and physically abused her in life. They weep crocodile tears to the tribe to get that burial assistance money to buy more meth.
Even in death they still rape her.
In truth she was victimized and violated by their own mental suffering… burned there by the branding iron of our reservations last generation mother and father. The cycle that never ends… It turns and turns again with every rotation of grandmother earth.
If you want to know the real reason why her hanging tree still stands? You need only look at their own selfishness, their lust, and their addictions. There is no “tall dark man” taking the youth, there is no spirit that is to blame for the suicide for any child. This is just an excuse to put blame on a nonexistent cause.

The evil is you sister and your own perverted choices. 

The suicidal children lack hope and love from both their parents, a love that a welfare check or a meth addiction can’t provide.
She existed in this dysfunctional motion of violence even as she warmed herself under the sun. Her reservation is an empty soul of a place where children cling to hunger. They don’t remember the last time a worry slipped past them down by the river.
She was trapped in the crab bucket on the evening sunset in which she killed herself. Knowing and waiting for the darkness and all the creatures that scurry in its dusk to wake in their nocturnal premeditation.
Immoral colors hide the black and white truth of reservation poverty. Drunk off the fermented fruit of lies and greed… druggy leaches suck to their hearts content off the bile of reservation addictions.
A young mother with seven fathers can never escape poverty. The womb scarred by the needle of addiction and heart broken by the same.
The boys become fathers to many mothers and the girls become the mothers from many fathers. Ultimately and all waiting for the monthly payday promised them by a dysfunctional society.
Their eyes are watching you, they watch you wait for the next day and the next night. You may not see it but they are learning this sordid culture of oppression and welfare by your example.
There is no self worth in this primordial reservation. The soap shoved down the throats of our ancestors washed out this hope long ago.
Little did she know that this existence shivers in the presence of true culture and yet again it shakes in the light of hope. But her mother was a practicing sadist atheist where to pray is heresy
The suicidal are the ultimate victims of the “reservation” Indians.
In truth only you as a reservation parent can change it and only you can prevent it, if it’s not too late. Put down the meth and the wine bottle, cast out your selfishness and materialism, close your legs and wear a condom, quit molesting your children but for fuck sake do something to save your children.