By Steve Dibirdi Hodder Watt Bunbajee
Dreams it seems can be deprived and refuse 2 arrive like the glimpse of past lives,
Like girlfriends and wives, not gone but forgotten,
Testaments of the rotten loves linger
like the twitch of an amputated finger.
Digging in the golden river sand in the forgotten crimson spear-grass land,
Where the man spears glass in the glands of extended fam’s,
gets sent 2 remand, becomes more stock 4 Z block where the clan expands,
contemporary jocks 4 the neo-millennium initiation,
a fabrication of Malcolm X Boulevard, no longer postcards,
cultural discards that retard the Tjukurrpa Dreaming, scrape the urban resin, drifting phantoms ghosting between the gums, fire drums, reserving Eccy pills and Lil Wayne stills that replace the Tyape Witchetty Grubs, the Katjarra Bush Tomato, Ingwulpa Native tobacco, Alangwaye Wild Passionfruit.
But why should the eyes pry on them little guys when there’s plenty on either side, black or white that choose to die culturally, socially, politically, Aboriginal immigrant refugees, so please drop the unease and racial tease, U can be free 2 abscond subliminally behind a legislative veil, but whenst U hail, the remnants fail 2 complete the detail, identities abseil in2 abysmal bliss … what’s this I am hearing, the coasts are revering but all that is echoed through the desert streets and hills is a disappearing.