Parker McKenzie ~ Kiowa
Parker Paul McKenzie (November 15, 1897, near Rainy Mountain – March 5, 1999, Mountain View) was an American linguist and, at the time of his death, the oldest living Kiowa Native
Snow her comforter
Rain her tears
Sun her smile
Clouds her secrets
Sleet her bitterness
Inuit (Eskimo) song
The great sea has set me in motion.
Set me adrift,
And I move as a weed in the
The Ballad of Kokopelli
A strange lonely figure stares out of the past
where engraved by an artist in stone
Held firm by the sand in which he is cast,
these last thousand years quite alone.
Kokopelli by Cybernetic-Sunflower I am Kokopelli, All are Kokopelli. There is nothing that is not Kokopelli. I as Kokopelli am myself, in search of Kokopelli. When Kokopelli meets Kokopelli,
The River Bank
The Indian knelt and washed his hands
In the stream that crossed the tribal lands
The cool waters calmed his thought
And he smiled at the peace it
Five Little Inuit
Five little Inuit fishing in the ice,
The first one said, "I'm glad we're being nice."
The second one said, "There's a polar bear over there."
The third one said, "I don't
Rise up from the ashes of despair
Spread your wings and shatter the air
Oh, Thunderbird of Legends
Rise up with a vengeance
Revitalize Our People everywhere
Rise, Phoenix, Rise
For the martyrs that they've made of us
Whose sacred bones lay beneath the dust
Of the land that they lost
By their treaties and by pact
The Music of what Happens
Native Tlingits crows and bears
Crippled Shaman raps his drum
Reachs out for those who care
Singing songs of things to
The Last Warrier
High on bleak, stony rag,
Unmoving, he sits astride
His ragged coated
Five Hundred Nations
Five Hundred Nations once were We...
The Peoples Who once owned this country.
Five Hundred Nations still are We...
Peoples kept alive through
I Live As Man
I have run as the wolf, on through the night
over many terrain, past tree at knee height.
I have felt the warmth of his fine shaggy coat,
I have howled the cold breath from his deep