What’s it like to be a mother

Imagine your a mother
yes a kangaroo
every time you venture out
they take pot shots
at you
you have a little joey
to look after and try
but men are out there ready
to despatch you
from on high

its sport to them
its fun to see you
writhing
in agony as the bullet
hits your chest
and you
know your joey
will be dead in minutes
and they are clueless
to the sins they do

the Bush has been our home
for many centuries
before the white face
came with sparking sticks
we shared this land
with the first man
true Australians
but they were moved on fast
and knocked for six
the aborigine was also
after us
but shared respect
and therefore tended to
take out the weaker specimens
allowing mothers generally
to bring their babies up
a sentient view

Now days this new breed of man
has ugliness,a sick heart
and intentions to deprive
they see us as a threat
and therefore will not let
us live and play
and just well just survive
So many of the mothers
in our mob have been attacked
their joeys ripped out of their pouch
and whacked and whacked and whacked
they get into a frenzy
the white faces look red
they sweat and jump about a lot
and do this till we’re dead

Imagine your a mother
facing this kind of threat
you have to forage in the bush
that is how life’s set
up for you,and if there’s drought
you have to, find some way
of getting water and getting food
its the only way to stay
alive out here
the sun is good and hot
and the wind can be
devastating so we have to eat
at least daily
and so we venture out at night
hoping above hope
that we can find something to eat
just hoping we can cope

The hotel chains are buying
our flesh, it is a nerve
but then their cooks decided
our meat is good to serve
Our skin is used for white men’s shoes
and footballs we’ve been told
the corporates have money
and power and we are sold
down the river daily
but the white men
who would sell
their grandmothers for 50 bucks
that’s what I’ve heard tell
So what chance has a mother got
Yes me a Kangaroo
thousands of my brothers perish
and some go to the zoo
stuck in cramped conditions
a gawped at everyday
tormented by the white kid’s
that’s what others say

The problem is the men are moving
closer
their highways are laid down
and all their noise
frightens off the birds and insects
our world’s torn a’sunder
and all the natural splendour and
the joys
are fast becoming rarer
I can tell you
I too await the bullets
that do fly
expecting that my joey
will be battered in a moment
and tossed onto the hot red earth
to die.

The fat cats stuck in Canberra
sit on their leather seats
proclaiming this and that
stuffy and dull
but they listen to farmers
and people with big gardens
and so the need is heard
the wword is cull
slaughter us and be paid
these assassins
these bounty hunting slobs
can’t wait to try
and drive out with their 4×4’s
tyres spinning as their engine roars
and see to it that many of us die

rown onto the