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Happy Easter

 



Naarm-Ngar-go my arc


King Morgan

The stone that the builder refused

will always be the head cornerstone

Great grandson of the rum pirate

Who raped slaves & the Indigenous

Poisoned em & got em addicted to sugar alcohol

But this king is blak

I don’t think he knows

his first name

Few understand

Cept he’s been beaten up many times by bent coppers

We met the night I saw the sacred crow

& I knew my big brother Tim had died

We shared a meal 3am

I read the poem On The Transcendental at McDonalds

The only place open in Naarm

We shook hands hugged & I walked back

I got home & the text came through from my sister in law

As Emmylou sings Gillian:

I am an Orphan Girl

Maliki

A woman’s name

Me an introduced species here

A guest

I now “own” my own home

6 by 10

A space in the air

On unceded Sacred Ground

The Genocide is accelerating

I get barred from places I go

“Bad for business”

Is common decency

Evidently I’m the only one with some English blood like the King

Who’s read Orwell’s essays on his homeland & this language we’re forced to speak

The rules, they call em Laws, change every day

Thou Shalt Not Steal

That I get

Do unto others

With Jesus’ Easter I concur

Time to pay the rent!

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Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2026.



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