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AD Mullin Aug 2018
/                        been                       \
/                      thoughts                    \
|                           my                           |
|                         have                          |
|                  LANGUAGE                  |
|                           my                           |
|                            by                            |
|                 INFLUENCED                 |
|                              is                             |
|                            feel                            |
|                              or                              |
|                              do                              |
|                              or                              |
|                            want                            |
|                              or                              |
|                              say                             |
|                                i                                |
|                             that                             |
/                     EVERYTHING                     \
/                                   if                                   \

^                                   ^                                ^
^                                   ^                                ^
^                                   ^                                ^
| language instructs | the way we think |
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TED Says:

Can you un-bundle this poem?
"My boy" you told me
"Some will come close to understanding"
But none truly ever will
The pain is a burden
Hurled into being
By a history in which we have no sway
Of elders and ancestors,
common trace
Buried deep in our blood
And The wounds
In an indifferent bandage
You WILL understand in time
That you must be your own shaman
Whisper to your soul the song
That soothes,
The healing touch,
The sorrow that aches,
And make harmony with what you know to be true
And for those that dont understand...
Be patient,
Their wounds not as deep
Their affliction still undetected,
Show them in the light of your broken halo
That good exists within the hollow home of unsettling night,
Only than will you truly understand,
"My boy" you said
None understand, but i do
Rigmarole Aug 2016
Close your eyes
staring at the sun
it’s dropping fast
burnt umber runs

Mountain auras
dividing shadows
lights the purple line
between day and night

Dark silhouettes
sinking deep
illuminates behind
the promise of sleep

Night stars cascading
emu peeps
between milky light
eternally creeps

Shooting stars bright
inner eye sees
cacophonies of colour
shapes our very lives

It’s dreams, it’s time
it’s endless and divine
this half way place
all here, sublime

It’s spirals, it’s dots
it’s country, it’s us
explaining the universe
simple yet complex
Mark Donnelly Jun 2016
Terra Nullius born from the ashes of colonies past,
from a nation over seas far,
the white cliffs of Dover show their colour,
they reached a land of beauty rich and rare,
they saw and they conquered caring none for those that stood in front of them,
for years this ravaged,
destroying ancient culture,
until a man realised that the land he loved was not his,
taken from him unbeknownst,
he stood in despair,
the system against he fought,
until he died a young man of pain from tortures past,
in his grave he heard the victory he won,
Terra Nullius is gone,
Long live Eddie Mabo.
Eddie Koiki Mabo was an Australian man from the Torres Strait Islands known for his role in campaigning for Indigenous land rights and for his role in a landmark decision of the High Court of Australia which overturned the legal doctrine of terra nullius ("land belonging to nobody") which characterised Australian law with regard to land and title.
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Along Victoria Inner Harbour
Behind the granite wall
Next to Capt. James Cook's effigy in bronze
Next to bold bronze plaques of white-worlders-
Across from The Empress
In front of the Assembly of Other Nations
Under an iron bench
Scratched in concrete—
No justice on stolen land.
Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Rae Johnston Jul 2015
"You're too beautiful to be Aboriginal"

These words are meant to make me blush

Meant to make me smile and act coy

Meant to make me ignore the seething anger that rages beneath
the socially acceptable facade of
a woman that passes as white.

— The End —