“Who cares?” the great anthem
of all who squat and steal Indian land,
steal it over and over again as we curse
with our language and actions to kill
off nature, one block at a time.

I love God. Indians were one with
their Creator—the Great Spirit, but lost
out to the vast numbers of usurpers
coming West by the thousands.

Usurpers, who left their fathers’ and mothers’
graves behind them.

How could they do such a thing?

Why would they do such a thing?

Wasted, and washed up on the shores
at one time calm and peaceful with
an attitude of gratitude prevailing like
a wind through Sunday, the birds and trees
our music.

Now we have butts and beer cans, the
sad memory of what we did calling
it “the best we could,” a sham as alcoholic
squatters open up another alcoholic
drink, use curse words that native Americans
never used before the invasion.

Cursing, spitting, not caring is the way
of today’s Los Angeles.

I am leaving it, with the hope that the
Indians return to care for the land here.

God bless us to stop and care
as they used to care.

As they used to care…