A little rat-a-tat-tap

Group-think tanks
splashing ink like
ASCII with hyperlinks
I’m done with identity
Political expediency
Eugenic entitlement to
Hegemonic enlightenment
I’m losing the need
To plead my reality
Or what I might need
What I will or won’t be
In the service of greed
I leave it all to you
Sisters and brothers
From a billion other mothers
Cos I’m hopeful and hopeless
And no part of me believes
We can group-think our dreams…

…a-rat-a-tat-tap

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Bizarre notions in polarity

It’s bright, so glaringly bright! Winter’s slipped
as day tumbles forth from night. Creatures dipped
in bronze melt all through my sight. Myna skipped
the fresh-cut grass, catching flight, as clouds wisped
past swathes of blue-tinted light. Ice-wind crisped
breaths healed by Ra’s molten might! Three ants nipped
across the page I’d soon write, darted, tripped
and fell to earth: a great height. Moods have flipped
from tight-clenched fists to delight. Beings tipped
from low to high, wrong to right. Minds equipped
with nature’s gift for insight.  Honey-dripped
days, praise! Loop this bliss-tinged plight with no script.

The 21st Century Cave Man

There’s a tiny cave behind
All those igneous rocks
Surrounding oneself with
Protective square blocks

Peer past the cliff-face
Into the chasm rent with pain
At the edge of this vision
Sediment flows with rain

Enclosed in illusions
Hard surface all around
Layer upon layer
Particles form on the ground

When this was your choice
To be firmer than air
Do you retreat to your pedestal
Or your safe little lair?

Dusk calls to the spirit
Miles and eons below
Dawn will be here in a minute
We contract, then we grow

I find no true home enclosed
By the igneous or sedimentary
You’ve got rocks as your battlements
So purposefully rudimentary

Yet the metamorphic forces
Yield solid rock at my core
My light floats to the outside
In bright space do I restore

These rocks hold the memory
Recording what’s transpiring
– Your haven that will cave in
And suffocate what is inspiring

– My preservation pillar
Of what’s constant, true and timeless
– Man only needs a cave when
The rest of him is spineless

Go home to your pedestal
Go home to your fortress
There’s no line you won’t cross
For the souls you would possess

Yes, build up your fantasies
About goodness and hate
Try and mask your soft core
While you stride and berate

The bereft are mostly free
Pride in all colours and races
While you perpetuate still darkness
With the lightest of all faces

Though little might survive
When nothing’s real inside
Blast those walls to kingdom come
On this you could decide

I know that you’re stuck
What you need is space
Climb past the debris
Walk into your grace
*

Fiction of violence

It’s a breathtakingly sweet sensation
That silence before revelation
You care about this information
I swear there was no indication

All these souls lit with pure emotion
Twice reflecting such dedication
Magnifying our mass devastation
‘Til the density overcame hesitation

Was that babe on the wings of an eagle?
Did he drown in an ocean of evil?
Was he burned from our hearts like the devil?
Laid to rest as a meme for the seagulls?

Now we’re done with silly expectations
‘Twas but a momentary lapse of devotion
To an exercise in overt domination
Paying violence and bombs in reparation

I find nothing civil in a civilisation
That willingly kills civilians of any nation
And oppressing the young through incarceration
Will not quell the human will to emancipation

Thus we preach from our privileged eyrie
About twice removed things we find scary
Looking askance at his face dark and hairy
Lamenting a fictional past that was carefree

*

Update: In particular, this poem is in memory of Alan Kurdi and Ali Saad Dawabshe, but as the day wears on my thoughts have progressed… we are losing so many children daily, I find it all so unacceptable. The very real impact of the pursuit of violence on innocent children flashes across our awareness for brief incandescent moments. A lot of us are outraged, a lot of us do a few clicks and type a few words. No one person can stop this from happening, it needs everyone to care, to maintain a sense of solidarity, to persist even when it hurts too much, until we change our course.

So I’m working on a list of children killed in 2015 due to violent oppression. If you have names or stories to contribute please add them to the comments. Perhaps their image and story did the rounds of social media, perhaps they were covered up or died so quietly that it seemed like they were of no value at all.  All I know is they didn’t die for our entertainment or polite interest, even if only one person in the world thinks they were important, from where I stand every one of them is a real and tragic loss for all humanity.

My earth

I sprang from the earth in a world filled with strife
He crossed the great water and brought me to life
I’m rife with these genes born of long suff’ring souls
She crossed the Bass Strait with a sail full of holes

“There’ll be no black offspring” yet still she bore four
Three hail from the dreamtime; one’s kept from kin’s door
A history was stolen so some could save face
Baba yangu mpendwa, no child for his race

I fell to the earth in a late sixties town
With folks who knew nothing about skin so brown
I’m raised with the knowledge that this ain’t my home
By folks who would fear me for hair I can’t comb

“Go back to your country” and “where are you from?”
“You don’t belong here” is an endless old song
It’s not just the Anglo’s; they’ve all had a go
The migrants and students, indigenous and so

I don’t need her pity for I have grown strong
There’s fire in my eyes that transmutes every wrong
My father’s revenge and my mother’s to rue
White Australia’s failure to lighten the hue

Still this is my country, the earth called me here
The laws of all nature will challenge our fear
With what moves our hearts since before we had time
With what makes me human and lends me to rhyme

I stand in two worlds, across every divide
From colour to gender to casting aside
These over-drive lies that keep us from friends
From ism to schism, we’ll mend these old trends

We can’t speak of hope, such requires belief
When it turns from the truth it brings no-one relief
From bully to hater to lovely fine souls
It’s time we surrendered and stopped scoring own goals

I sing from the earth to a man who’s grown cold
We write a new future that cannot be sold
I’m older and bolder; I’ve lived so much pain
That I can see clearer when clouds threaten rain

Let all who have known me and seen me for swine
Divine such a view maps their own thin red line
And should you delight in a spirit that’s free
In peace shall you roam across earth, land and sea

I hum with my earth as I’m tossed through the waves
Tones roaring through auras with worlds as the staves
The rhythm is time and my pitch is free will
Tunes are the humans spirit’s notes shall fulfil

© Robyn Murray