“Brown Bluzz’in”

[nightchant (deleted)]

“Brown Bluzzin

Looking in from the outside of rezness
Wishing I could go inside the redness
But my journey continues in and out of un-rooted destiny
As my life crossbreeds with urban wounds
Can I exist without definition
Am I acknowledge outside the womb
Are my thoughts polluted
As my image runs with your bad habits
Do I object to your tarnished recognition
Scorned with your language
Ignorance inhabited by my absence of expression
As I pray to the Creator in the tongue of my ancestors
Am I trapped by your society with no apologies
If I were white would I exist
I am Dine and that is the passage to my existence
You placed my Nomadicness on hold
You say relocation is my destination
Or is it an immigration of a tribal nation
To urbanization
Do some rez struttin down on Main Street
Breathing in this city intoxication
Headin on down to the local urban rez location
For some brown taste and some rez rapping
With my local browns at the urban boarder
Talking the talk
About ndn bluzzin and rezzin at the location
Talk about being an urban ndn
Eating rainbow bread instead of fry bread
Eating processed meat instead of mutton
What the f*ck
Is this Indian bluzzin worn by cynicism from tribal nation relocation
Wheres my traditional freedom
Unrecognized by your WASP oppression
You want to claim and rename me
Pay me $5.15/hr and a box of government commods
Extended luxury you say and my BIA obligation
Urban Indian a vision of confusion
Being urban stuck in mire of city transfusion
Indigenous urban and an immigrant to the polluted haze of urban assassination
Invisible journey on the extending horizon
Walking on a moonless night
A twelve pack of cold ones under my arm
Alcohol reassures my invisible journey
Will the dark road take me back to my childhood
f*cking A
If I could remember
All I can say is this
Take your urban game and kiss my mofo *ss
Guess Ill slow down and go back to breathing rez
Yeah, breathe some brown bluzzin
Like a home grown NDN man feeling my rezzin
Like going back to eatin grandmas fry bread
And that greasy mutton taste on the tongue
Now thats what I call some real brown bluzzin
My cynical freedom

Seeyouma
12/11/88

[fireopal]

`It is hard not to fall in love with the unrefined honesty in this poem, Seeyouma.
I liked your usage of the words "crossbreed" and "relocation," as they both hold so many connotations of their own.
"Tarnished recognition" at best...
"Ignorance inhabited by my absence of expression" I love this line, because to me it plays on two conflicting concepts: a sense of helplessness and simply knowing more, thus saying less.
"As I pray to the Creator in the tongue of my ancestors"... I've always admired that even in today's misfortunes and chaos, the Native soul is able to internally shut it all out and preserve what's real.
I think that holds true to the times of "Indian Boarding Schools" also. The idea that "you can cut our hair, take away our traditional clothing, and make us white on the outside" but that ethnic cleansing will never reach one's soul.
“I am Dine and that is the passage to my existence
You placed my Nomadicness on hold¦ These are such strong lines. Maybe my favorite part.
“Do some rez struttin down on Main Street¦certainly paints an image. Sad ironies I dont think your ancestors could have foreseen. =(
“Unrecognized by your WASP oppression
You want to claim and rename me¦ This makes me sad also. There are also some odd parallels between how African American slaves were treated upon arrival here, and the oppression places on natives. Whites attempted to strip them both of their birth names, let alone their heritage. ¦But on that note, I think it is perverse that Native Americans, the first ones here, were the last ones to become recognized citizens, following even after the people we captured and transported here.
“Pay me $5.15/hr and a box of government commods
Extended luxury you say and my BIA obligation
It wouldnt surprise me if they really do call rez food rations, etc. “extended luxuries. Do they?
“Urban Indian a vision of confusion¦so true. It upsets me that so many Native youths have lost touch with their own culture.
History doesnt make any sense to me Seeyouma. I may not be Native by blood, but I assure you I didnt write it. =(

[rebelyell08_PREV (deleted)]

`A member in the forums here spoke of young Native men on her reservation wearing 'gangsta'-type clothing and talking rap ebonics type of thing which I found sad. There needs to be a strong voice for Native youth that can reach them where they are at. Something they can identify with at this point in time.
It's easy to get caught up with what goes on in youth mainstream and takes something strong to grab ones attention away from that when you are young. Something to look up to and admire and want to be. Young people generally want to strive to be what they view as powerful, if that makes any sense.Who understand them.

**I totally agree with you Fireopal.