Edit 2 29/1/17
This white page tells black stories
in neat paragraphs; appendices
to place-name meanings, monument
inscriptions, paintings, bones.
The circle of stones
is scattered with sheep dung
leading to the sheds where
shears became blades
for the throats of children.
At Morriset's table,
grace was the screams
of Saturday's people:
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war to the new white homes, and sang:
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
can continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
[/quote]
Edit 1 29/1/17
Raiders, invaders, you ran your sheep
and cattle across our sacred land,
built sheds upon our bora grounds
and kept us from our past.
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war into your new white homes;
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
can continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
Original version (from NaPM 2016)
Raiders, invaders, you ran your sheep
and cattle across our sacred land,
built sheds upon our bora grounds
and kept us from our past.
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war into your new white homes;
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
may continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
and we are all corpses
in the end
*For background: The Bathurst Massacres
This white page tells black stories
in neat paragraphs; appendices
to place-name meanings, monument
inscriptions, paintings, bones.
The circle of stones
is scattered with sheep dung
leading to the sheds where
shears became blades
for the throats of children.
At Morriset's table,
grace was the screams
of Saturday's people:
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war to the new white homes, and sang:
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
can continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
[/quote]
Quote:
Edit 1 29/1/17
Raiders, invaders, you ran your sheep
and cattle across our sacred land,
built sheds upon our bora grounds
and kept us from our past.
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war into your new white homes;
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
can continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
Quote:
Original version (from NaPM 2016)
Raiders, invaders, you ran your sheep
and cattle across our sacred land,
built sheds upon our bora grounds
and kept us from our past.
Wiradjuri we, born free
to die as you please. You
spread your disease, you rape
and you maim, you plunder
and poison and pass us the blame.
Windradyne raised his spears and his men
took war into your new white homes;
you couldn't find us, you who are blind,
you killed our women and children instead.
You made a sport of Wiradjuri murder,
baited our hungry, slaughtered our young,
buried it all in a mountain of lies.
Cudgegong cries
as Wiradjuri die
and Windradyne yields
so the ploughing of fields
may continue 'til all
the corpses have gone
and we are all corpses
in the end
*For background: The Bathurst Massacres
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