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Garry J Ansell

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The Predation of the nation
by Garry J Ansell

Sunday, March 30, 2008
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The Predation of the nation


Long time back

Before life came to land

Horizon to horizon

Red earth spanned

Creator spirit looked around

And into earth

Spirits bound

Ancestor spirits

Who made all things

Even made us human beings

Rainbow serpent

Winding thru the ground

Made mountains

Thru which rivers wound

The rocks and trees

The rain the breeze

The morning sun

Life breathed into all

All were one

Some creatures swam

Some, they flew

Or crawled, slid, walked or hopped

From all these things the people grew

And the Dreaming never stopped


Eons passed over the lands

Balance kept with ancient hands


From the sea the white ghosts came

To cast their piercing look

To claim the land in Britain’s name

When upon our land stood one, James Cook

This ‘noble savage’, native man

Tho’ greeted with a friendly hand

They called it ‘terra Nullius’ land

‘No people’ here before they came

No people….

Only ‘fauna’ grew

Social Darwinism was the game

That’s what they said..

Not what they knew

They’d said no people lived here before

None at all it seems

From one coast to the furthest shore

Just a land of ancient dreams

Why then, start a war

And for what was all the killing for



Kicking and screaming

They dragged this nation

Into modern, harsh reality

‘European civilisation’

And the gifts they offered to their hosts?

Kill them off, breed them out

Turn the rest all into ghosts


For the land

A sudden, sad realisation

A painful cancer


Poisoned earth

Poisoned rivers

Families, trees destroyed

All by these well meaning

Suffering givers

And the cruel means that they employed


Many eons had passed with balance kept

Now, after just a few short years

The nation suffered so, it wept

It wept for spirits lost forever

For faded dreams and echoes

We banded ever closer together

For a nation in its death throes

Them people,

Eora, been here 70,000 years

In all that time…

Hardly left a mark

Those people came..

The Ghosts been here for just 200 years

The marks, the scars are stark


70,000 years of Dreaming interrupted

For 200 years

Of pain

Of tears

And a magnificent culture corrupted

It seems to me

In all the countries

All around the world

Quite blatantly

Wherever the ‘colonisation’ flags unfurled

That suffering and genocide occurred

In the name of their Queen

Their God

Their word



Settlement intent

Our nations ‘colonisation’

It appears the ‘settlers’ really meant

Parasites upon our nation










Predation of a pristine nation










Total miscalculation

What about some mediation

What about reconciliation

Simple equation

Multicultural nation

How does that work

For the koori nation

First they need reconciliation

A little compassion

A sorry word

For the first refugees

From our nation


As the multicultural nation

Gathers steam to leave the station

Along a twisted, winding track

Going forward, never back

No one knows the final destination of the ride

So, I wonder

Is there a station way outback

For the kooris that were lost along the track

Whose culture they took

And Dreaming interrupted

And whose genocide

They tried so hard to hide

No offer of reconciliation,

No treaty

No sorry words or compensation

Just took the lot

‘Terra Nullius’ see?

The former, (or new form)

‘White Australia’ policy


Now a ‘truly’ multicultural nation

We’re all Aussies aren’t we mate?

Unless they change their minds with trepidation

And shut the bloody gate!

We are the ‘ Lucky Country’

A land of mateship and democracy

But without meaning to sound scurrilous

There’s still that echo of ‘ Terra Nullius’’;


And what about those detention centres

Instead of trees

They use wire fences

And in the desert

Families are forced to linger

Just like that mob near Maralinga

Dying slowly from irradiation

In our ‘multicultural nation’

At least they don’t have fences

Like them detention centres

Just fences for the rabbit

And the dingo

Anyway, it’s ‘no worries mate’

You’re most welcome here

Especially if you know the local lingo

And can wait…


It’s a truly multicultural nation

It just causes such frustration

Thinking about the refugees

And indigenous population

And the predation of our nation

Of 70,000 years of Dreamtime interrupted

For 200 years

Of pain

Of tears

And a magnificent culture corrupted

My tears drip softly
over the canvas painting
my sorrow spills freely
onto the velvet floor.
The paints run together,
blurring the picture;
of what will be no more


Koori G



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Reviewed by Charlie 3/30/2008
--words that sob here... a powerful write, like a chant. And some good questions asked.
I think you'd like the writings of manny moreno, a Native American poet here at AD. I hope you find a lot of writers here to befriend.
I like your enCHANTING style. --Charlie
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