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
Category Archives: Aboriginal Poems
I am an Aborigine
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
Black Beauty
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
Adam Goodes
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
Mulyawongk
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
Aboriginal Death
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
Aboriginal Break Dancer
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
Terror Australis
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
Aboriginal School Kid
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
Blackman sad man
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