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A poem for the American people
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For people who are as poor as us, who have lost everything, who had to endure so much death and sadness, laughter is a precious gift. When we were dying like flies from white man's disease, when we were driven into reservations, when the government rations did not arrive and we were starving, watching the pranks and capers of Heyókȟa were a blessing.
— John Fire Lame Deer
She and the cool pastor that followed and other worthless worthies such as the absent x-trumpette, reminded me of the dreams of the thunder beasts ... Dream on ...
Long live the Heyókȟa (not that they do)
I have complete faith and confidence in our worlds young people, poets and TikTockers. They will flower our dreams. They are our transformers ...
Yes they are but we need more Greta Thunbergs to mobilise the young.
I am Spartacus
We are Gaia Greta Thunberg