My Spoken Word Poetry: *Deprived and thrown away*

Deprived and thrown away. Shoved off to residential schools, thrown into a viral of hate. Beaten black and blue. Just to be told that your religion aint true. Thrown into tiny black rooms, no sense of living yet you still aint blue. Cant leave the yard, even when youre dead. Being stockpiled right outside of your own bed. Not to nag, but how would you like to beaten by a priest in till you bled. Looking up at the symbol of the mighty god just going to town, in a pool of red. That pool of red just continuing to be fled. Waking up and turning you as stiff as your bed. Only to find out that your family has been put to rest, by a piece of little lead. Get out of school to end up on the streets wishing you were dead. You find a nice piece of lead and are to just shove it in your head. Or overdose on those powerful meds. Just to go up stairs to join your long lost family. Family? 130 years of been throwing away and being restrained from family. To just live in a third world poverty. Third world poverty in a first world country? Welcome to Canada except the 3% that we call the First Nations and their hidden poverty. You know, ignore and hide the originals just to live in tranquillity. Walk down 20th street and see the true Canadian hospitality, not the Canada created by the crown but the after affect. Now do you see? Although (ab)-ORIGINALS cant see because they are not allowed to leave their reserves? Lets make that stereotype about the Canadian hospitality.

Not even close to the end, yet we are still stuck in the beginning. Although you might just end up getting played!

Deprived and Thrown Away

By: Jordan Jess

I wrote this piece on the troubles the First Nations had from residential schools and simple the way they were treated as a dog. Although, stuff like residential schools has ended, the negative way the world sees them has not went away. Not to mention the condition of the reserves they are supposed to live on. Coming out of residential schools lots of First Nations were suicidal. Like who could blame them. It touched up on the several things I learned within home base. I came passionate toward the First Nations with in this room on our trip to Batoche. I loved the stories the place had to offer then we moved into an anti-racism unit, and now the Theatre of the Oppressed. These experiences have really catered to my knowledge on this subject. January 20th, 2014