Read Holocaust Island Online

Authors: Graeme Dixon

Tags: #Fiction/General

Holocaust Island (3 page)

BOOK: Holocaust Island
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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
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 yorga
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
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

[* 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
members of my race.
14 kia—Yes
(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
Will our Ancestors
Rest in peace at last.
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
to take it by force
Like the Europeans
during history's course
But the Babylon
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
“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
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
of this Great Southern Land
they have devised
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
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
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
attempted a last stand
And if it seems
I don't worry
let me tell you why
Because oppression is oppression
No matter the shape of the eye.
Pension day
The natives are restless
in their State Housing homes
Unmarried mothers
are no longer alone
Relations are arriving
from near and afar
Social Security pensioner
today you're a star
Anxious glances
are cast up the street
Postie has a timetable
he never ever keeps
Dad swears one day
he'll wring his white neck
Mum says don't worry
he'll lob in a sec
Young yorga's
of new jeans and shoes
Yong men scheme
to cadge money for booze
Petrol for cars
more than two dollars worth
Then it's off to the TAB
To invest in the turf
Even dogs and kids
are running amok
they know boya
will fly
when the oldies are drunk
Cokes and lollies
and everything nice
Wishin' wouldn't it be moorditj
if pension days fell twice
Postie has been
cheques have been changed
Food and drink
have been all arranged
Dad cracks a bottle
passes it around
Says let's have a charge
then piss off to town
Town she jumps
on pension day nights
Girls looking for boys
boys looking for fights
Tomorrow they'll be hungover
some sore—most quiet
But who gives a shit
coz tonight Noongahs RIOT!
15 yorgas—girls
16 boya—money
17 moorditj—good
Single Mum
She awakens every other morn
to cries of empty-bellied kids
tries feeding them with little
as they reckon Jesus Christ once did
She spends most the morning
getting them fed, clean and dressed
Holding back tears of frustration
for her is an emotional test.
The State rents her a concrete box
in an outer suburban slum
they promise her a house one day
she feels this will never come
for now she's gotta try make do
meeting the rent and other bills
if the loneliness don't get her
depression eventually will.
In winter it's cold as ice
in summer as hot as hell
the plumbing's always playing up
there's a cockroach plague as well
There's no carpet on hard floors
old sheets are used as curtains
but she has new locks on doors
around here women can't be certain.
The suburb that she lives in
is rife with vandalism and crime
she's virtually a prisoner in a cell
never venturing out night-time
If her kids wander out of sight
she'll frantically shout their names out
Everyone says she's a worrier
she knows there are deviates about.
She often dreams of the love
she gave in her youthful years
but tries blocking these memories
they only lead to tears
Still she'll forever remember the day
she awoke to a cold empty bed
wondering eternally if it was her
was she the reason why he fled.
Trying to forget those painful times
has developed a valium habit
any pain killers coming her way
alcohol, drugs, she'll grab it
She knows she must stop one day
but the wounds are far too raw
and it's never knowing, that hurts
what the future holds in store.
The only sunshine in her life
is on fortnightly pension days
the whole block then seems to smile
and rellies come around to stay
Sometimes even long lost lovers
arrive to visit the deserted wives
but that's the only sip of water
in the arid desert of their lives
So the struggle to survive
stumbles from one day to the next
She wishes they prepared her for this
in High School life skills text
She often contemplates suicide
as the only escape from this pit
But a kiss and cuddle from the kids
makes her think maybe it'll be worth it.
BOOK: Holocaust Island
4.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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