The Stolen Generation (later On)
We are older now
Wiser
We hurt privately much more
In ways inexplicable to white fellas
We were close as little kids to our tribal glue
We were learning of the land the gathering
Hunting
The dance the Corroboree
Not of religion
Not of white education
Or books
We read the seasons and the wind the fire and the rain
We wanted our brother and sisters
Our mothers and fathers our birth trees
Our hunting rights and our black land
Our brown footprints still own this land forever
But we were stolen
And
Scarred forever
We lost our mum and dad
Our brother and sister
Worst of all we lost our black soul
But
Never our fight
Copyright Paolo 2012

I’m black

I have no issue with that

You’re white

I have no issue with that

You are different

I understand that

I am very different

Not sure who understands that

Most

White Australians do not

To them I am a burden

A Bludger just a blackfella

A bung

An Abo

What I really am is proud

Your white prejudice

Will never allow you to be the same

Beautiful black face tells me all

A Black smile big pearly whites

Glistening

Bright eyes you’ve reached the heights

Oh boy am I listening

Jubilant conversation never ending

White man has recognised you

Dexterous

Clever hands intelligent view

Oh boy so infectious

Big pay days now

Hard work taking you places

Achievement

Lots of friends and smiling faces

Oh boy appeasement

Now they know of your success

Black family loves you too

Brilliant

Role model for black and white

Oh boy future Elder so resilient

Indigenous is great

Love you or hate you

It depends

When your mob role drunk in the streets

Steal

Menace

Lie

Thieve and cheat

You must berate them for that choice

They have refused opportunity

You have an image problem Adam

You are a privileged person

Crying wolf

Thinking

Everyone is against you

Are you sure you are a victim

Your mob needs you to rise for them

You are out of step with reality

You are never spotted in Kalgoorlie

Collecting aboriginals out of the gutter

You are never seen in South Hedland

Saving drugged and drunken blacks

You are never observed in Alice renovating derelict housing

In fact we have only ever seen you play football

And

So have most of your mob

You are hogging all of the publicity

That could save a drunk

Save a diseased child

Save a glue addict

Save a petrol sniffing teenager

Save a comfortable home

Your mob surely are not amused

Whilst one of their greatest lights shines only on you

Where are you my friend?
Our Spirit of the river
Save us from Whiteman’s poison

Mulyawongk

Bring back the footprints and stand
Black Shoulder to White Shoulder at the Coorong
Bank to bank at the middens

For its length

Mulyawongk show your face

Take your place your dreamtime power
The river dies
The river cries
For you

White man has not seen you yet
Mulyawongk

Save the River
Mulyawongk

Save the River
The invaders have failed

My love for the land means little
When
Concrete and bitumen burn my feet
It will do little for my tribal name
I’m living and drinking the devils brew
On a Whiteman’s street
I cannot hunt in car parks or reserves
The bush tucker has gone
I cannot show stealth or throw spears
I am lost forever ‘
As
A fringe Dweller

He once danced around the camp fire
Emu like
Kangaroo rhythm
Spectacular
With
Dingo cunning showing in his eyes
Snake like waving eucalypt
Powerful trails in the sand
Fire ash in a skyward spiral
Left foot thumping warm sand
Right foot supporting historic events
Elder stories a much older world
An aboriginal heart lost
In a white city he could no longer see
Or hear the stories
Anymore
He saw only the white man’s dance
And
Was broken
Revealing little
Ignorant of his culture
Locked in a Whiteman bottle

What’s this thing called life
In Australia
When
Someone wants to kill us
Infidels they say we are
Muslim haters we are accused as
Racists
At all times known only to them
Why buy our land
Why use our schools and universities
Why be
So full of hatred
Why come here at all my friend
To risk replacing your hate with love
For that is what we sell in Australia
It must have been something we said
And
All we said was
Welcome

Schools out early that’s a shame
The streets will teach me to find fame
No parents no blame
On the grog on the game
Lost at school lost at home its all the same
I’m just a black kid they cant tame

Copyright Paolo 2014

A Blackman spat at me
A Fringe dweller drunk as
I asked the typical question of him
Why bro
Why would you do such a dumb thing
You be white trash he slobbered
Can you gib me a job whitefella
Sure I said
Clean up the spit please