NICK WHITTLE MY LAND, 2001
this
is not my land
is not my right
my white skin
not from st john
nor strathclyde or
lamming's belleville
but my skin is white
all the same
taxi sir
take me back
back to the whipping
whipping black skin
skin torn with sadistic joy
joyful and triumphant
triumphant for three hundred years
victor ludorum
this
is not my land
is not my island
my white skin
stained with dishonour
for ever washing
washing and washing
out damn spot
taxi sir
take me back
back to black breasts
breasts suckling your white child
child of your black woman
woman whored with your white sperm
sperm bleached bastard child
child of fitzgerald
this
is not my land
is not my rock
my white skin
not of merchant
planter or ecky-becky
but my skin is white
all the same
taxi sir
take me back
back home
home away from home
home to church
church of god
god fearing seamen
semen of hell and damnation
damnation to all
all but the lightest of light
this
is not my land
is not my country
my white skin
blistered
tortured with guilt
massa day done
... always massa
taxi sir
take me back
back to my slaves
slaves to beat and torment
tormented by god
god breaching and conquering
conquered with white cock
cock crowing its hymn of hate
this
is not my land
is not my mother
my white skin
pickled with rum
no room to scotch
forever uprooted
taxi sir
drive
drive me round this land
land of my fathers
farther than the eye can see
cement and roads leading out to sea
seething rage
outraged at the manicured greens
greens of tees and eighteen holes
howling at the chained gate
gatekeeper stops and questions
us
used to be ours
ousted from royal westmorland
land and sea of port st charles
charles duncan o'neal bridge time
time to publish
publish and be damned
damn your dynasty for giving
forgiving and selling your land
land of blood and payne
this
is not my land
is not my home
my white skin
trapped in history
dreaming
dreaming of this land
taxi sir
drive
drive me to st john's church
church yard of my father
father's duppy dust
dust in my shoe
shoe walking like his
his name on his pew
putrid stories vomiting
vomiting history
his stories hidden
hidden for ever
forever shamed
this
must be
my rock
my land
my island mother
my white skin
barred from nowhere
my navel-string
bury here