Last year Aboriginals took me to find a boomerang. Eventually, after hundreds of rejected trees, one was found buried deep within the cor…
A short prose poem about how we interact with our world.
{inspired by Pilgrim’s story of Hunting with Aboriginals} We were camping at Doolena Gorge, a place somewhere in the North of Western …
Reflections of the desert / finding a lost nostalgia / understanding what it means to be Australian / falling in love again / the highway the…
Never marry a sailor. A sailor already has a bride. She’ll seep into any marriage and leach away the love. I think my first wife sensed t…
More about Baudin’s Last Breath / / Order Baudin’s Last Breath My Website This is the story of two men’s search for meaning, a voyage of discovery taking them half way round the world and defying the normal bounds of time and space. Nicolas Baudin is the eighteenth-century French captain sent by Napoléon on a scientific and political voyage to the uncharted shores of Australia. Victor Barker is the twentieth-century ordinary seaman who followed in Baudin’s wake. He was seeking the truth behind the voyage so he could write a novel based on the life of the French captain. But Captain Nicolas Baudin takes over command of the author and his story, determined that the historical record be put straight. When the author was in Paris, researching material for this story, he was suddenly taken ill and found himself in the Hôtel Dieu hospital. From there on his search for the truth about the Frenchman took a strange twist that led him into a world of secret societies, stolen documents, a stolen skull, and the discovery of the beautiful woman who changed the captain’s life. Nicolas Baudin was real. Victor Barker is real. Most of the characters and incidents in this novel are real. But it is a work of fiction.
Première édition du festival sur la culture Aborigène (affiche dans le blog). / Durant 4 jours, du 26 au 29 février 2008, la culture abori…
An exhibition of contemporary Aboriginal Art in AVIGNON, France.
But why should I say we’re sorry, / For someone else’s crime? / What value has an apology, / For mistakes from another time?
National ‘Sorry’ day is coming and it’s time we all stood by our P.M. and said sorry. Normally, I don’t like what any politician says and especially Prime Ministers, but in this case it is very worthwhile and very overdue.
Mine blood is the colour of red, warm sticky fluid / moving thickly smoothly through the channels of my flesh. / The fluid of my life. And…
This poem is an attempt to clarify red, red ochre, “red-band” Law, red blood, sacred woman’s business, and our connection to the “red” earth of the land, from an Aboriginal perspective of course. / Please note I said an “attempt” ...
Used Ancient Ways / Heard Natures Voice / Listened to Her / Made the Right Choice
We are all just visitors here
When The Last Great Tree only remains then will Ngurunderi pull down His Canoe from the Milky Way..
This digital photograph is my second attempt at trying to portray and tell one of the traditional stories of my Adnyamathanha Yura Wardum…
The story explains what happens to a deceased person’s Wannapi after their death.
Beaver Lennon, Glenn Pilkington and Archie Moore are probably the closest to being conventional emerging artists
Review of Xstrata Award by George Petelin.
I want to prove emotions are real creatures. The emotions of the murdered Aboriginals filled Glenbawn Dam and engulfed Broads Crossing do…
Short story. My first dialogue piece.
The golden rays spread across the burnt-orange earth, / where rocks now splintered are pebbles dispersed. / The aeons have passed where onc…
A verse about experience and memory
How my new logo was influenced and inspired by the spiral.
I am Assimilated / I am Humiliated / I am Curated / I am Violated / I am Alienated / I am Segregated / I am Frustrated / I am Castrated / I am Mu…
I wrote this after viewing the last episode of the First Australia series on SBS. But decided to share this with you all cos’ that’s just how I am feeling right now.
I had two dreams during the night. The first dream has me standing at a Gold Coast beach looking eastward, over the ocean into the d…
the stories are dying / replaced Truth with the lying / blood stains the blade of hate
another song of mine.. not yet complete. just came one afternoon in like 10 minutes.. like all the others… written rom the perspective of myself a young “white” woman reflecting on the atrocities of the “white man”... not sure where its gonna lead but i want to steer it into a more positive light
Aboriginal really cannot be interpreted logically, nor rationalised or intellectualised, no matter our need or reason to do so; It is an …
Been reading a lot of interesting, disturbing and even reactionary and derogatory POVs on RB in the last few days … it seems, war, religion, politics, racism, patriotism and such-like are hot-topics for quite a few amongst this artistic and creative fraternity … thought I’d throw-in a perspective that I wrote just on 6 years ago … cheers…
Generation of trust down by the stream, / Upon the cracked earth the children dream, / Golden sun in their eyes, a song in the heart, / Swif…
A poem based on the story of Doreen Cockatoo, an Australian Aboriginal who was taken as a 6 year old child from the banks of a river and taken to Mornington Island, like many others her identity was changed forever. Something for us all to remember as we celebrate Australia Day. http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1420202/children_of_the_stolen_generation.html?cat=42
Thank you so much to the moderators of Aboriginal Art for this Feature – you made my day!!!!! / !http://images-0.redbubble.net/img/art/siz…
White Bones and Red Dust / Ray Wilkins ©2009 Chapter one She pulled on her coat and gloves and walked out into the night. She wa…
Another short story! / but this time a crime thriller!!!
NAIDOC Week celebrations are held across Australia each July to celebrate the history, culture and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres …
A whiteman came ashore / and hoisted his flag / We still did not know / that he’d proclaimed this land
This is another from my school days. / An assignment this time about Aboriginal Land Rights. / (a very big issue in the 70’s and 80’s this was written in 1984) / This was all I wrote at the time, but it must have been enough / I got an A+ lol. I have tidied it up and included it here. / No I’m not a ‘Koorie’ (Aboriginal) nor an activist. / I do hold the values of freedom for all people though. / This poem could very easily be applied to any of the indigenous people of this world, American Indians, the many tribes of Africa and so on.
My ancestral bird sleeps peacefully, / wrapped in cosmic energy, / upon the trunk of my garden’s tree. / Waiting for all the ingredients of …
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