Aboriginal Fringe Dweller Poem by Paul Buttigieg
Aboriginal Fringe Dweller
Fringe dweller no Christmas or New Year
That’s white fella stuff
So
Where do I go now
I still enjoy the filth and grog
The welfare
The challenge of a failed life
It’s a Merry Christmas for me
Under a tree somewhere
Ill drink til dawn
And well into tomorrow
Theres nothing else to do in my stupor
No white god can save me now
And
Could not save me then
But truthfully
I cannot save myself
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/26/2024 10:47:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
