not for land, not for oil
or gold, or flag
song lines cut with a bayonet
and re-tied with barb stretching
almost the entire length and the breadth
of the middle of a continent.
treaty for the end of a shadow war
marching on the bridge
pride and hope, hovering in the air,
now dwindled back to the fringes
of who gives a fuck…
unjustified patriotic front
trying to reclaim, their ideological,
yet fictitious past—reclaiming nothing
more than white wash
it wasn’t an invasion,
because us Whites
don’t class it as a war,
or an occupation,
or a would-be mass extermination!
How can take back ‘values’ that don’t exist
abstracts, I might as well say
I’m reclaiming my right to laugh at the Moon!
how can we ‘take back’
what we already stole, in the first place?
nothing ceases to amaze me more
than white entitlement
or a sarong does not make you a patriot!
Eureka flags tattooed on your back or your chest
doesn’t mean the same as the Texas Stars
or the Confederacy flag!
have actually served in the military?
how many of you have sworn an oath,
to God, to Queen to country?
Call me a Leftie,
Call me Un-Australian
Call me a member of the black arm ban
I volunteered, I took my oath
for my slouch hat and my steyer
for my pack and standing guard
at the eternal flame,
on Anzac day…
am I not more patriotic than you?
a change of name
change what happened all those