{"id":73387,"date":"2026-03-10T13:02:02","date_gmt":"2026-03-10T18:02:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sixtyinchesfromcenter.org\/?p=73387"},"modified":"2026-03-10T13:02:06","modified_gmt":"2026-03-10T18:02:06","slug":"martyrs-three-poems-by-lakota-kikyo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sixtyinchesfromcenter.org\/martyrs-three-poems-by-lakota-kikyo\/","title":{"rendered":"Martyrs: Three poems by Lakota Kikyo"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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BUTTERFLY EFFECT (spoken word c. 2017)<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Your argument is that my words

                                                  don\u2019t flow 
so very well

When in fact 

                     REALITY IS 

            you\u2019ve never seen a fairy tale

            Yet you STILL BELIEVE in the UNSEEN 

                     Like life flutters by on a butterfly\u2019s wing 

            Quick and insignificant beings

Infinitesimal in RESPECT to the INSEPARABLE 

            Relation of the First Nation's placement 

                                                                           In a White Man\u2019s World 

            THIS IS WHERE ASSIMILATION displaced the spiritually AWAKENED

                                                                                                        Taking PEOPLE 

                                                                                and spaces that can\u2019t BE rePLACED

                                          No compensation for the COLONIALIST CREATIONS

                                                                     And my GRANDMOTHER\u2019S BONES 

                                                                              ARE STILL 

                                                                                            BURIED 

                                                                                                        BELOW 

                                                                                                                   YOUR BASEMENT <\/pre>\n\n\n\n
They VEHEMENTLY held no regard for the THINGS WE HELD SACRED

                          Waka\u014b Wi\u0301\u014bya\u014b now DOUBLE FACED

                          As T\u021fat\u00e8 turns his cheek 

                                        to the bloodied city streets 

                                                      And empty moccasins worn by our STOLEN SISTERS\u2019 FEET

                                                                                                                    Lead to the RED RIVER
                                                                                              of pity, 
                                                                                                          prayers, 
                                                                                                                        and condolences 

                                        EMPTY PROMISES KEEPS FEEDING THE HOPELESSNESS

                                        WHO HOPE FOR LESS DEATH and BREATH

                                                       that can fill our lungs
 
                                        So despite GENOCIDE our ANCESTOR\u2019S SONGS can still be sung
 
                                        In the LANGUAGE of the MOON and the SUN
 
                                            Where the STAR NATION PUNCTUATED

                                                    the story of Our Creation
 
                      Setting up the sky for the next generation to continue our efforts for decolonization

Wa\u014bna to all KIDS, I say\u2013

INDIGENIZE your REPRESSION,
 
             ALCHEMIZE your DISDAIN

Turn your perceived
 
                         PURPOSELESSNESS into PURPOSEFUL renditions of pain

                                    Paint your purposes in LINES<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
                                              that describe your OWN histories
                                    Culture is an UNFINISHED PUZZLE, and YOU\u2019RE THE MISSING PIECE
\u2026s

Many spirits have been lost in the DESECRATION, FAMINE, AND DISEASES

That spread just like the rumors of GOLDEN RIVERS and the WORD of JESUS

SO PLEASE DON\u2019T BLESS ME WHEN I SNEEZE, Miss

I\u2019m breathing OUT, dispersing SEE(DS)

Sowing my ROOTS in 

              YOUR GARDEN

                          FORCIBLY \t\t
\t\t\t
                          I\u2019ll harvest my CROP, and I must say\u2013it grew up gorgeously 

                                                                                                        Just like little me<\/em> 

                                                                                       As my life is not a perfect story,

                                                                          nor is it ugly

                                                I brewed up a pretty potion and sip on it humbly

                                            Cause there\u2019s no lovin\u2019 me

                                        it\u2019s inherently redundant 

                             SEE I WAS BORN WITH GIFTS AND BLESSINGS OF GREAT ABUNDANCE

                     It only makes SENSE that IM SACRED just like the Sundance 

               And my steps are intentional, while you got LOST without a compass
 
          As your OVAL officers OVER indulgence of BLOOD DIAMONDS at their luncheons, 

                         Serving feasts to the CONQUISTADORS, CONDEMNING INDIANS to DUNGEONS<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
WHITENESS is what we run from\u2013

You bask in IMPERIALIST NOSTALGIA

BORN and RAISED to COLONIZE JUST LIKE YOUR PREDECESSORS TAUGHT YOU 

But in all seriousness, I\u2019d kindly decline your offer 

I don\u2019t want apologies, I just want you to love your daughters 

And teach YOUR SONS that NATIVES are not SAVAGE like the Huns

Hitting the TEETH with tongue to PRODUCE the sounds of ancestral drums 

That introduces the FRUITION of a lost and forgotten love 

That safe feeling like when you get WRAPPED UP in an AUNTIE\u2019S HUG

ROLLING in the GRASS free of G.O.O.N.S., PREACHERS, and THUGS 


To be FREE is to be a KID given appropriate ounces of wisdom 

Enough to be virtuous but NOT ENOUGH to be DISMISSIVE 

So miss me with your NICHES because we\u2019ve got to save the children

From these WESTERN INSTITUTIONS that are MASS PRODUCING DESTITUTION

That make a Native student want to give up on resolutions

Like\u2013 YOU COULD\u2019VE BEEN A FIRST GENERATION COLLEGE GRADUATE

You promised to NEVER WALK AWAY just like your dad had did 

Now you BLEW IT and it makes you hella sad and shit<\/em> 

But you couldn\u2019t have prepared for that, NAH you couldn\u2019t have planned for it

But you SHOULDN\u2019T have STOPPED DREAMING, STAYED WOKE, and KEPT RUNNING 

Ain\u2019t a day goes by I\u2019m not plenty mad for you cousin cause what\u2019s a RED YOUNGIN' to do 

When whiteness inherently provides those with blue eyes a head start with WINGED SHOES

While brownness gets you LESS, YES, just enough to always lose<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
And now you want my skin color?

             DISTRACTING US by dangling booze 

                           I\u2019m UNCIVILIZED, DEcolonized, while you\u2019re sporting sweatshop shoes 

They pretend it\u2019s an HONOR

                           To die for AMERI-K-K-KUH

                                          No, it\u2019s not\u2013 it's a PITY

                                                       It\u2019s a COMPANY

                                           I mean, it\u2019s a COUNTRY that forces men to BUST CAPS in CIVILIANS

                           ABANDON their children, LIVE and DIE TO KEEP PILLS IN MILLIONS

Its a DESPOT so whatever the fuck I\u2019m in my feelings

I hope you GET GOT and good luck with all the killing
<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
Martyrs<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Even to this day our worlds are much different. Your success is not the same as mine. I do not
wish to live among skyscrapers and wear clothes that could feed entire blocks in communities
on the side of town you\u2019ve never been to. I can not beat the pavement when my people are still
praying for saviors. You want me to comply with the institutions you built over the bones of my ancestors and constructed to suppress their grandchildren. In a time when we are actively stitching our histories back into the seams of the American flag, each individual stitch soaked with the blood of millions of beautiful brown babies forced to become martyrs. You want me to create art that appeals to the senses of the descendants of barbaric murderers and slave owners. Please do not ask this of me because resistance is inevitable. Please do not ask this of me because you will be disappointed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
R3BIRTH<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n
I've never been poor 
My heart is my generational wealth 
Collecting paint, bricks and portraits, I\u2019ll keep my art all to myself 
Because I truly hate the fascists that make life a living hell 
Don\u2019t wanna talk or see \u2018em, go spit shine the altar bells 
Contacted reefer madness, it releases funny smells
And contrabands not cheap but y\u2019all can never be yourselves 
Poppin' a band a week on party 
candy, plenty rails 
No please, none for reckless bandits wreaking havoc like myself 

But they got fun plans for parties, check it, pin-the-tail-on-the-junkie
So when they\u2019re walking backwards wretched
they can leave them on a subway
And catch the next one back to the crib
While they are lying face up in their piss
Like there ain\u2019t nothing to be seen here, no there\u2019s nothing to rebuke
So let\u2019s just skip to the part where these bandits find better things to do

Now their eyes hold pinpoint pupils and a pulse that needed searching 
Ice coated their eyelids then broke open like an urchin
Something has died here, 
A spirit that gave up and got lost here 
creeping and lurking 
heaving and hurtin\u2019 
Teething and turning 
Like infants that needed some learning 
But got beat undeserving 
I simply breathe in and disperse true histories that I see
Visions that need nurturing it\u2019s not always plain to see
Great Plains gave me purpose, the MAKO\u010cHE is me 
Dig deep under surface you\u2019ll find roots within me 
In my minds a great forest, universe inside we 
Might sing you a chorus for all the times I\u2019d hide me 
Now I want to be seen look up and peep what I be 
Do I glow just like how you thought I would gleam? 
Just a star kid on a course to sleep walk in my dreams
And walk like I know where I\u2019m going to be.  

Walk along and beat the bush collect the berries in my skirt 
Then I thank every tree and put tobacco to the dirt 
You\u2019ll want to follow me I got a knowledge for the thirst 
On how to water everything, sewing seeds with pretty words 

Before I gulp mnisni and fill my belly with a curse
This part you have to see, I give all parts of me to her 
Moon spirit, her and me, we put something in this verse 
Heart, spirit, chamomile, anguish, beauty, hurt, 
tears, time, and teeth, tiny screams, and giant smirks 
Heavy cream, and peaches, pussy power, dreams, and perks,
wahanpi, wasna, phe\u017ei, coffee, talent that I nursed 

So what you feel is me, she, he, we, and her 
It\u2019s Nothing to be believed 
It\u2019s exists without your words
Magick happens all the time 
This is something that I heard

Before I got here there was a pill to numb the fear 
In everywhere I turned there was a hill that helped reveal 
In every bridge i burned, another one was engineered 
Like every page I turned I gained a skill that inched me near
I cracked my skull, blood seeped from my ear onto the earth
My weary heart was broken but I had to get up and learn 
Aside from always smoking I have to dodge the thorns and ferns 
To keep the haters choking, on their last dying words <\/mark>

Singin\u2019, I no longer care about the wicked looks and glares
It'll burn holes in your eyelids if you don\u2019t divert your stares 
Destroyed all of my chairs so now I sit upon the earth 
Telling stories for the faeries, the midwives of my rebirth 

Now Inside the city dwells a troll that laughs before he car hops
So keep your doors locked and keep your kids off of the sidewalk 
Is it safe to come out? Guardian angels got the night off 
They remain in doubt if they should save us from the tidals 
No respect for clout give a god damn about your titles 
If you was a man you\u2019d sacrifice your wealth and rifles 
Say fuck that ceiling fan and grab your wife and kids and fight for 
Freedom from a filthy flag that keeps your fearful of the night fall 
And say 

We no longer care about the crooks that got us here 
Don\u2019t give your souls to Lucifer, he\u2019ll just lock you in his lair where he
Deployed all of his ares now they suffer under the earth
Where he sits Spittin\u2019 flames at Virgin Mary, 
Furnaced all the kids that she just birthed

I broke through the fluid sac transcended 

There\u2019s a spark that\u2019s riveting, it flared as I fed it everything 
I burned up all my gifts and vivid dreams of peasant kings 
One that\u2019d do just about anything under the sun
including fasting and praising summer suns,
no procrastinating, start the drum 
He bat shit crazy he fights for fun 
Want to be my baby, know I don\u2019t hold my tongue 

I no longer care about your wicked looks and glares
You\u2019ll burn holes on your eyelids if you don\u2019t divert your stares 
Destroyed all of my chairs so now I sit upon the earth 
Spittin\u2019 my stories for the faeries, the midwives of my rebirth <\/pre>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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\n
About the author:<\/strong> Lakota Kikyo is an Oglala\/Hunkpapha Lakota ceramics, spoken word, and rap artist. They grew up in Sioux Falls, SD finding themselves submerged in the subculture of hip hop that existed within the world of their peers. Enduring the suffering of spiritual deprivation, financial hardship, and other trauma, this love of hip-hop music and visual art provided a sustainable source of passion for looking forward to when times were dark. With this eternal fire they’ve procured, Lakota Kikyo intends to tell her story and create intellectually stimulating and fun music that fellow music lovers can enjoy.<\/mark><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
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\n
About the illustrator:<\/strong> Erika Sakata is a first-generation, non-binary multi-medium artist largely focused on traditional\/digital illustration, poetry, zine-creating, and design. Their work revolves around themes of personal identity, race, and queer life. They typically explore bright color palettes and sharp imagery. As an individual of Black and Japanese descent, they typically infuse intermingled elements of both cultures into their pieces.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In three poems, spoken word artist Lakota Kikyo explores a range of themes like financial hardship, white-supremacist colonialism, and spiritual rebirth. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":37,"featured_media":73574,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3099],"tags":[9537,27,9571],"byline":[9572],"class_list":["post-73387","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-sixty-lit","tag-indigenous","tag-poetry","tag-south-dakota","byline-lakota-kikyo"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nMartyrs: Three poems by Lakota Kikyo - Sixty Inches From Center<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/sixtyinchesfromcenter.org\/martyrs-three-poems-by-lakota-kikyo\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Martyrs: Three poems by Lakota Kikyo - 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