by Graeme Dixon
a Noongah9 kid yelled to me
“Spring like the Bungarra10
if you want to be free!”
I crossed the road
like a roo in full flight
my heart was fairly skipping
me lungs were feeling tight
But suddenly a hairy hand
grabbed desperately at my shoulder
my body felt so weak
t’was heavy as a boulder
I reached into my soul
and begged for a little more
from the stamina I had stored
but I had nearly used it all
“I’ve got you now mate!”
I heard the manatj angrily say
“I run marathons for a hobby
I could do this all day”
So I stopped in my tracks
abruptly bending low
Catapulting over my body
I watched the copper go
He did a half somersault
landing with a heavy thump
I quickly straightened up
and over him I jumped
Instantly his hand shot up
grabbing me by the ankle
quickly pulling out his cuffs
within seconds I was manacled
I lay prone with sweat pissing
blowing like a beached whale
gloomy realisation setting in
I was heading back to jail
The copper breathed heavily
“That was a stupid try
now you’re coming with me
back to the pigsty”
Once I was in the lock-up
I then began to shit
deep in my heart I knew
I was going to be hit
“Make fools of us will ya!”
a copper angrily said
“If I had me gun then
right now you’d be dead!”
The first blow landed
with a knee to the thigh
followed in quick succession
by punches to the eyes
“Strip the mongrel down!”
The duty sergeant yelled
“Then chuck him bore-orsed naked
into the cooling cell!”
They roughly threw me in
as naked as a jay
for my little excursion
I knew I’d dearly pay
A bucketful of water
was thrown over me
for a man is most vulnerable
when cold and naggedy
They turned on the fan
embedded in the roof
my nose was fairly bleeding
I spat out a broken tooth
I shivered and shook
through the cold and the fear
but I wouldn’t give them
the satisfaction of a tear
The cell door flew open
in strode four burly cops
who systematically beat my body
I thought they’d never stop
When their revenge was sated
I was bruised and bloody raw
On departure one turned and spat
“Don’t mess with the law!”
They found weary body hanging
later that lonely night
spirit finally broken
no longer desiring a fight
All this Noongah life lived
sneering at the gun
but this time it fired
jolted by Yigga’s run
Was it the Queen’s manatj
or could it have been he?
Nobody really gives a shit
but at least his soul is free.
4 coord—(coorda)—mate, friend Back
5 yorga—girl, woman Back
6 bunji—man who pays women for sexual pleasure Back
7 wajella—white person Back
8 manatj—police Back
9 Noongah—Aboriginal person Back
10 Bungarra—racehorse goanna Back
Battle heroes
You bucked an evil system
putting up hell of a fight
struggling brave and hard
against the captors’ agressive spite
So they savagely beat your bodies
whilst chained to the ground
For what logical reason?
Because your skin was brown!
Though the body’s strength was sapped
ancient spirits fought on
so fragile throats were compressed
till all signs of life had gone
Other mortal injuries from battle
severe enough to cause death
cracked head!
bullet hole!
strangulation!
all took away life’s sweet breath
State paid doctors and police
ruled against you of course!
coming to neutral judgments
“reasonable bloody force!”
And this informed Noongah11 people
the state sanctions this war
so fight in self defence
you’re not protected by Queen’s law
Though they lost this battle
warriors brave and bold
the survivors will not rest
till injustice has been resolved
for “all is fair in love and war”
is the invaders’ battle-cry
So defy this oppression
or we’re all destined to die
And Yagan12 is still the hero
pioneer of our righteous cause
(will always be remembered
with respectful, silent pause)
But there’s a new breed of martyr
who in bloody battle fell
Maori Tony, Robert and Charlie
John Pat and young Ricky as well.
11 Noongah—south western Aboriginal Back
12 Yagan—Aboriginal freedom fighter Back
Darryl
Though the town’s forgotten
I remember well
a skinny half-caste kid
hanging in a cell
Your body was caught
in the pain of life
and the agonised throes
of violent strife
We were all stunned
with terror and fear
those of us left who loved you so dear
There will never ever
be time to forget
your agonised face
and that leather boot lace
They cut your shell down
gave it respect
more than they gave you in life
when proudly erect
But you were a child
a product of time
a little bit lost a little bit wild
loving and gentle, slightly uncouth
They refused you the right
to outgrow your youth
But I remember you Darryl
your humour your smile
the good times we shared
for a space and a while
and sometimes when I’m down
and alone in the night
I wonder what would have been
had they treated you right
If you were alive
you would be thirty today
maybe contentedly watching
your children at play.
Genocide
Two hundred years
of white occupation
Two hundred years
of BLACK desolation
Two hundred years
on the Europeans’ menues
A million bloody tears
still the genocide continues.
They got rid of us
down in Tasmania
Now they’re trying in
the rest of Australia
Why we plead
we are a race of so few
Are we beasts to cull
or are we human too
> They cry for the BLACKS
deep in SOUTH AFRICA
They cry for the oppressed
in the jungles of NICARAGUA
Why don’t they cry
for us in this HELL
instead of chaining lynching
in cold prison cells?
Prison spirit
Gazed into holes
a brim full of souls
that had dried black
stretched on a rack.
Wallowing in pain
one suddenly grinned
and everything thinned
as he became sane.
Kick me he said
I am not dead
I can still cope
there will always be hope
while my mind
has its freedom.
I am no beast
I know at least
I have a free mind
that’s the best kind
that’s me—
I am free.
Holocaust Island
Doomed prophecy
Tall warrior standing erect
Proud chin held high
A manner to defy
Scarred chest fully expanded
Back, straight and strong
Gazing out to sea
At a shape that was alien
To an ancient memory
Says down to his yorga13
Standing sheltered in his shadow
“I feel a change, Kirra,
Is about to come”
But he smiled
For he knew
They had eternity on their side
13 yorgo—Aboriginal woman Back
Re-enactment
They sailed around the world
In sailing ships of old
They sailed around the world
Cruel, unrelenting, bold
They came a second time
These men with golden locks
They carne a second time
Bringing alcohol and pox
But this time they didn’t kill
with muskets or with swords
This time they didn’t kill
In the name of Holy Lords
Because the world was watching
This re-enactment fleet
Because the world was watching
They trod with careful feet
They prefer to keep it secret
When they murder and they burn
But now the party’s over
The killing will return
But now the party’s over
for the dead our mothers yearn
W.A.S.P.
S.W.A.T.*
[* White Anglo/Saxon Protestants Special Weapons And Tactics]
Barnstorming striking troopers
with naked violent hearts
kicking down our front doors
tearing us apart
Threatening all our people
with, fully loaded guns
blowing out the fragile brains
of our defenceless sons
And still they expect us
to have and show respect
while they act like klansmen
a new elitist sect
treating us as vermin
who need eradication
That seems to be the reason
they want confrontation
We too demand the basic rights
of people in this land
But they never seem to give
but order and demand
that we play the justice game
then they make the rules
and if we speak up and protest
we’re looked upon as fools
All we want is justice
we know the proper way
to stand tall, defend ourselves
in court and have our say
But what white justice seems to do
is to send out racist gangs
Meanwhile in jails around the land
our young they die and hang.
And white Australia you at large
say we have a complex
Don’t you read the papers
or couldn’t you care less
This country’s first born People
are in a trap of genocide
Agh! you, you wouldn’t give a shit if all
Black Australians died.
Six feet of land rights
If we never succeed in reclaiming our country
doomed to live life paying rent to the gentry
It would be a good thing if after our death day
for that six feet of earth we didn’t have to pay
It would ease the pressure, on those of our kind
Poor, mourning, sad people, left living behind
It would make the last day easier to face
if that financial burden was lifted
from our poverty-ridden race
Then when the reaper comes
to switch off our lights
our souls may rest in peace, knowing
at last! Six feet of land rights.
Holocaust island
Nestled in the Indian Ocean
Like a jewel in her crown
The worshippers of Babel come
To relax and turn to brown
To recuperate from woe and toil
and leave their problems far behind
To practice ancient rituals
The habits of their kind
But what they refuse to realise
Is that in this little Isle
are skeletons in their cupboards
of deeds most foul and vile
Far beneath this Island’s surface
In many an unmarked place
lie the remnants of forgotten ones
Kia,14 members of my race.
14 kia—Yes Back
When
(in retrospect)
When the colour of a person’s skin
Is as unimportant
As the colour of his eyes
When politicians stop
Deceiving our people
With the telling
Of their white lies
When the breed
Sired by convicts
Cease to worhsip
The invader
Captain Cook
When they return
To our People
The Sacred lands
They took
When compensation
Is paid in full
For the atrocities
Of 200 years past
Then and only then
Oppressors
Will our Ancestors
Rest in peace at last.
Home
Where do you come from?
a stranger once asked me
He said he hailed from Scotland
miles across deep blue sea
Where is your homeland,
he continued curious,
and was bitter sweet departure
sentimental but glorious?
He said he missed Scotland
and pined to return
asked if for home
my heart often yearned?
I yearn for those Green Hills,
he splashed with a tear
And dying on foreign shores
was his deepest fear
What about you son,
he enquired absently,
in the warmth of your home
would you rather be?
Then he went silent
and gazed into my eye
begging me for an answer
I started with a sigh
I have no sweet home sir
where I can run free
no place to hang my hat
you see
I am Aborigine
Asian invasion
They tried
once
to take it by force
Like the Europeans
did
during history
’s course
But the Babylon
nations
united to repel
and sent the
working classes
to battlefront hell
but when
it seemed
the rising sun may succeed
“Annihilate em,
the bastards!”
Was the President’s decree
So they forced
the northerners
down on their knees
Saying
“it was necessary
for us to remain free”
For violence is
the traditional Christian way
to wipe out violence
so they piously say
An eye
for an eye
is what the Prophet ruled
and that
is the law
that has the masses fooled
But over
the years
they let them off yellow knees
for to forgive
and forget
is Democracy’s plea
An now
they’re paranoid
watching the sun rise again
Realising
to forgive and forget
they must have been insane
Because in peacetime
the yen
is mightier than the sword
and their pen
signs cheques
enough to buy Western landlords
So to gain
ownership
of this Great Southern Land
they have devised
anew
invincible plan
A plan
that nullifies
the most patriotic of fervour
And swings
the power pendulum
to the rising sun’s favour
It’s an invasion
initiated
by the financial scholar
With a
frontline attack
using the power of the dollar
Because money
can infiltrate
the European creed
when it’s
concentrated upon
their unquenchable greed
Now listen to them
whinge
those hypocritical fools
when another race
uses them
as puppets and tools
how soon they forget
how they came upon
this great land
killing all
of those who