64 64 all gone and gone along the pathway from
Hayday, which ‘as been what, when?
1997? 1992? 1989? 1978? 1967? 1956?
What are they numbers? Fading in memory but not in tapes,
Teasing in some lips but honoured in scripts
Archived in history, the absurdities the atrocities the hysterical delusion that define me, and so many others who, year on year, year on year, fainting but still saintly shinin’ lights passing, year on year, year on year, together and union, become part of me, and part of my history, our history, mine history, ours history, interweaving into one and wholely, the light vs the dark, the repression vs the democracy.
So many used to stand up in the legislative hall, in Victoria, against authority, initaiting motion that that authoritarian barbarity, to admit what they did, as guilty, as history and witnesses have imputed with crystalline clarity, the atrocity. Year on year, being refused, scorned, mocked and teased, by all sides, even some of our side, but still stood up, year on year.
Because, it is the only one thing that defines our identity. Just one thing. Not money. But fear. We fled, we sit in, we protested, we shed tears, because of this
Fear. And anger. The hair straightener fear. And heart piercing anger that melts down into tears. Out of conscience. In front of such a massive criminal, who can crush anybody just for clinging on with power, money, jail, brutality, and anything that have defined what they always be.
So they were standing, year on year, until the last breath of the air. And we are, the heir.
So we still stand, even in such an circumstance, that some say there is no more stage for it to stand, to be so disheartening so futile to stand. But we stand. Coz’ we are the only heir.
This is the responsibility of being an heir. To stand in front of such a massive and filthy thing. To stand for showing, such grief such anger such fear such thing that solely defines us. Solely decide us.
So we stand. Always we stand. Repetitively we stand. In that place we stand.
Year on Year.