The coloniser’s farts have
Odours that smell better,
Much better, because they’re…
Well, people are used
To what colonisers say and can
Stomach making sense of that gas,
Apparently, that’s why they’re
Listened to and given power.
Rip straight into them, those
Bastards who took and are
Still taking what is not rightly
Theirs to have – the public’s esteem.
Shred them, make them gone,
Speak of how things should be
And get the population to recognise
How wrong it is to defend
The verbal abuse that puts
A gun to the face of victims
Of genocide, excused through
Phrenology, eugenics, psychiatry,
‘Public welfare’, ‘safety’ and ‘care’…
Strip the act where fighting back
Has been turned into a crime,
Where trying to verbalise this
Has been turned into ‘mental illness.’
What do you do when you
Can’t win the public esteem
Because those in authority
Say that you don’t make
As much sense as the good
Farts of your abusers?
And you hear them,
Those threats verbalised
Again and again in a sneer
Of indifference and clicky logic,
Marginalising and marginalising…
Anger is held in with a sigh,
Hope is lost of being given a turn
Of having a position like that,
To say what needs to be said,
As the indefensible is excused
While your job and contribution
Is seen as only existing though
The goodness of fat charity
That will place its mushy-pea plate
On you when you hope
To get a newspaper article
Written about the insightful
Work you do, that is not
Recognised because, because
Of the wonderful farts
That the coloniser does
To cologne the public
Who apply this odour liberally,
Defending themselves when
The stench gives a passer-by
An asthma attack, defending
Defending their wrongs,
Puffing up their chests and beating
Out their coloniser’s song –
‘Me, me, me, look at me,
Mine, mine, mine!
You go and mine for me!’
Think of yourself as the ball
Being kicked while others
Are having a ball at your expense,
But no, no one’s scrabbling for you,
Your existence is an abstraction,
The ball is the focus,
You’re not a coloniser’s cologne
So you’re just nonsense – that illogic.
Rip, rip straight into them, those
Bastards who took and are
Still taking what is not rightly
Theirs to have – the public’s esteem.
Shred them, make them gone.
Threaten them with
What your government
Threatens you with;
Torture has been made legal so easily.
Make them fear for their lives
Like they have made you fear.
Make their gun in your face
Backfire and put people like
Eddie McGuire in the psych ward.
Tell him he’s the malfunction,
That he ‘doesn’t have the capacity to work’,
That people are ‘not interested in his story’,
That he should’ve been aborted,
That he must not have children,
That he can’t use heavy machinery,
That he needs to be tranquilised
And made manageable,
That everything he says is wrong
And he’s incapable of making informed consent,
That he doesn’t have to vote,
That he must comply with being
Subject matter for psychiatric research,
Must, must comply… or treatment gets worse.
Fair's fair, so let him be
'Cared' for properly, that poor, poor man
And his pomp of followers
Who can't help but fart out abuse.
He is a danger to himself and others
When he is running loose.
Fair's fair, so let him be
