#aboriginal
If I could
I’d never turn my phone on again
I’d pack a bag and we’d go deep into the bush
Build a house with our hands
Live on the land that they took from us
We would spend every day together, not having anywhere to be
No more fights with landlords
No more half hearted texts by people who couldn’t show up
May 7
May 7, 2026 at 6:10 AM UTC
Welcome to suicide city. Where the first nations population dies quickly. Let me be your tour guide for this deep dive about suicide through aboriginal eyes. The youth, grown up in abuse, turn to drugs or a noose. Bruised, ***** used with no escape in view. So they try to run but succumb to the world's weight and numb themselves to just live another day. At last, atlas could take a break, because our children now hold the world's weight. As the parents lay near by, needles riddled near them and beer bottles laid beside. Too weak to stand, to protect or provide, The proper care for their youth so they some coincide with disgrace as the kids stare and face what fate may lay.
Five times more than normal do native men die. Crushed by the world, by the weight of the skies. They are tough on the exterior but broken on the inside. Not taught to talk so they take their own lives.
Young women perish about 8 times quicker. With a voice of her own but no one will hear her. Abused she endures so she drowns herself in liquor. She succumbs to darkness, to the thoughts that no one would miss her.
Our suicide rates are higher than any other. Tear stricken parents burying their sons and daughters. So many are to blame but the true culprits are our mothers and fathers.
We suffer from what I call, cultural deprivation. We suffer of separation of our own. Children were forced to face colonization alone. Put into schools where our people were told. That our way of life was a lie and they're saving our souls. Only to be the harbingers of my peoples demise. They abducted our youth to save them from their "lies". Separated from their families was truly a tragedy. Those priest and nuns messed them up and never taught them to love. So they were release to the world with nothing but a shove and a shrug.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
The Lightning Man.
In life we beat out our time; knees bent, singing and dancing.
In death our spirit, reappears in human, plant and animal form, recycled; reborn.
In telling our stories; we move through the days and walk in the past.
We push up mountains and invoke the rain.
We cut our bodies; dress in leaves, oil and paper bark,
We paint our bones red with ochre returning to the womb from which we sprang.
Nothing has changed...all is as it should be.
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 8:14 PM UTC
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
"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,
SING OUT
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
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 1:14 AM UTC
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
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
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.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 6:51 AM UTC