"So Alone, But Yet Not Alone" Grandson, Why is it You drink The white-mans poison? Because I am alone grandfather, So all alone. But grandson, Know that You are never alone. Grandson, Look around you. Here there is life, All of your relations. All of your relatives. So alone you say, But You can not be alone. Grandfather, When I drink, I feel sad sometimes. All alone. I feel depressed sometimes. All alone. I feel stressed. All alone. I feel frustrated. All alone, And yet grandfather, You say, I am not alone. In the Indian world grandson, The white man, He wants you to be alone, But you have your Four-legged relations; You have your Winged relations: You have the trees, Rocks, Mountains, Rivers and streams, And though you say You are alone, Yet you are not alone. Grandson, In the Indian world, All of life Is our relation, For in our world All living matter Is related to us. The white man Would have you drink His poison; Would have you feel alone, But remember always grandson, In the Indian world, With all of life, Together, We live as one. Written: December 5, 1991 by: Larry Kibby
Copyright © 2001 - Larry Kibby Elko, Nevada All Rights Reserved.
The Great City Life Indian! Why do you wander From your reservation To the white-man's city? To find a future? To seek fortune? Or to follow a New Way of life? The city life Is not for you Indian, For all that it will bring you Is a world of shame; A shame that will destory The dignity and pride You had while you lived On Indian land! Indian! In the city You will find Whiskey, Beer And wine, That will destroy Your inner spirit! The city life, Indian, Can only bring you Hardship, It will Strip you Of the dignity and pride That made you an Indian While you grew in strength On the reservation! Written: December 27, 1990 by: Larry Kibby
Copyright © 2001 - Larry Kibby Elko, Nevada All Rights Reserved.
The Wrong Path Indian, Where are you? Where have you gone? Your people are calling! They need you! Are you lost? Have you gone On the wrong path? Indian, Have you forgotten your way? Have you forgotten your past? Have you forgotten your people? Are you lost Indian? Have you gone On the wrong path? Indian, Your culture needs you! Your tradition needs you! Your way of life Needs you! Are you lost Indian? Have you gone On the wrong path? Indian, The drum is calling you. The song is for your return To your people, To your way of life! Where are you Indian Have you gone On the wrong path?? Written: December 30, 1990 by: Larry Kibby
Copyright © 2001 - Larry Kibby Elko, Nevada All Rights Reserved.
The Troubled and The Lost Many claim to be oh so highly smart On the journey they joyously start, Leaving behind their own original race Sneaking into the Indian world without a trace, Hoping to find serenity and peace within Not knowing if they’ll lose or win. They are, The troubled and the lost. We know the Indian world is not a game, And our elder’s turn in shame, When they see the culture used with disrepect By a people who believe they are correct Because when these people searched and looked, Their truth they found in a book. They are, The troubled and the lost. These people walk into time, Not using their intellectual mind, They come mainly to play And care not what the elder’s have to say. They drum, sing and dance, Claiming to be in a sacred trance. They are, The troubled and the lost. Many are nothing but phonies Selling all our sacred ceremonies. They move through out the land, Making a just stand, That the ancestral blood in their veins is real, That they do not beg, borrow or steal, They are, The troubled and the lost. Cultures of the world beware! For now comes the troubled and the lost! They know not who they are, some are harmless. Copyright © 2001 - Larry Kibby Elko, Nevada All Rights Reserved
The Funny Ones In their quest for Indian fame, They have no sincere shame. "I have your last name," They will immediately proclaim! Together you’ll be the same. Who are they? They are the funny ones. When you ask them of their race, A smile will come on their face, As their dyed hair blows gently in the wind, Because now they know they can win, When they state they are Indian. Who are they? They are the funny ones. All across the sovereign land, Many will try if they can, To accumulate a valid degree Of blood for everyone to see, That they are in fact an Indian. Who are they? They are the funny ones. Legal documents in hand, Before you they will boldly stand, All of the day and night, And declare they are ever so right, To pronounce as a matter of fact, That they are no circus act, Their blood is true blue, And despite they have no lawful clue, They are an American Indian tribe in rank, And you can take that to the bank. But who are they? That’s right! They are the funny ones! Copyright © 2001 - Larry Kibby Elko, Nevada All Rights Reserved
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