POEM: Brahmin Bad Bwoi

Man don’t feel right here fam.

Back home I was respected,

Wheat-coloured skin,

Brahmin surname,

Yeah I was fit to rule blud!

I was born to rule!

Here though, mans wiv my same complexion

Can’t tell me apart from a slave or untouchable!

I got blue eyes too though,

So how you gonna hate on man?

So what if we speak different languages?

So what if you colonised us?

So what if I like curry… every day?

We still human!

But they don’t see that,

Don’t accept that,

Don’t accept me.

Didn’t know no-one else like me round these endz.

Had to resort to being mates wiv kalai,

At least they understood oppression.

Have to admit sometimes it was jokes.

I learnt to speak African:

Raatid, bloodfire, rastafari.

I could drop the n-word like nobody’s business

But don’t you dare call me coolie.

Are you mad?

Don’t call me no fucking lowborn!

Man a 21st century fruit of Brahmin family tree,

Arya background, arya upbringing, arya destiny!

I will avenge my honour on your ass!

I burn your village down!

I kill your women & your bachchai in front of you!

I build toilet on your grave!


Nar wait,

This is Gora-stan so that shit’s illegal.


That’s why man don’t feel right here.


© One Tawny Stranger, October 2015

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