Take The Rope From My Throat That I May Sing My Song Children Of Mokomoko Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

Take The Rope From My Throat That I May Sing My Song Children Of Mokomoko

Rating: 5.0


I’m a Pakeha! I’m a Pakeha! I’m a Pakeha!
To you!
To me.
I’m a kiwi.
Jump up and down! Jump up and down! Jump up and down!
Knock heads off stone statues!
Spray paint emblems of Britannic Queen.
Banter! Banter! Banter! Racist Slogans!
Frog march in gardens!
Decapitate under trees.
Shit on land you claim as yours!
I can tell you really respect it!

Best land management policy!
Pakeha and extinct Moa!
Make all nation’s children everyone
learn Maori at school.
Learn!
Anything?
You never did.
Show some real Maori mana!
Traditional Full-Face Tattoo!
Wear it with leather-jacket boots tribal patch.
Go on. Kick my head in!
I know you want to!

Idyllic days.
Before Pakeha
came and spoilt everything.
Maori all mates together.
Left.
And then?
There’s no white one.
For you to eat.
Left each other.
Just the way it used to be.
Cook’em in a hungi in the ground with hot smouldering stones.
Perfect. Yum Yum. Pork. Pakeha (meaning white pig) .

Those Nineteenth Century Pakeha.
They were too tough.
And these twentieth century ones.
Too fat and lazy.
They don’t do anything.
They can’t
have
no Maori rights.
See.
We are.
One people.
New Zealanders. (Not by Law Couzie Bro. You got de extra rights!)

On your racist census forms.
Where it says
Pakeha (meaning white pig) / European.
I know.
It doesn’t. Represent!
Mean me!
I’m
Not Pakeha.
I’m
Not European.
I write other!
Born here! Birthright?

But them very bad white land appropriators don’t belong here!
Any more. (Ignore Pakeha blood in your own veins!)
This land is ours. Is ours. Is ours.
Non-Maori second-class leeches on our land.
Without freedom. (Exorcism Pakeha blood out of Maori veins!)
Of speech. (Make peace with yourself. Own warring internal blood lines!)
Word Pakeha gives me a belly-ache.
I haven’t got a belly-full
of beer on doll-dollars!
My belly.
Is full.
Of Coffee.

Pounding Ulcer Points.
Stick it down your own throat.
I want to sing my song.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem references specifically one of many 1990’s Maori Land Protests.
Quote from Urban Dictionary. “Generally translated as referring to a white or pale appearance, pakeha has been variously described as meaning white pig, white maggot, or even white ghost, which may be in reference to the pakepakeha, a pale-skinned forest-dwelling people of pre-European Maori mythology.”
Quote from Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia. “Pakeha, pronounced 'Land-stealing-honky-bastards', is a common New Zealand Maori food. It is an introduced species, that arrived on sailing ships, around 1770, and began taking over the land. It has been deemed a pest, and while sometimes lovable and cuddly, some of the species are arrogant and aggressive. Pakeha is a food best served with Puha, a form a thistle, and kumara, a sweet potato.”

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