bbc before me
sitting in front of my colour tv screen
for the first time exposed
to images the outside world
ten years ago has seen
intimate, brutal aspects of my existence
bitter ghosts
now resurrected in my chest
such small cutting words
exile, ban, unrest
sitting in a state library chair
stare at a paragraph
thick with the tone of fact
another white male historian
another authority on the nature of my family
whose noble venture into the unknown
has come to this
the only document they say exists
from which i must divine
precious remnants of my regal bloodline
in this hall of muffled coughs, i sigh
i have raged about the silence
i have cried about the violence
i know i’ve shed this all before
endless cycles of release
resentment that i tell myself
i’ve long since risen above
me, in my meditation pose
projecting myself over this chakra rainbow
towards this conquering all-embracing
concept of love
come elusive architect
who metered dosage for this mind
dictated what i should see
when i should be blind
fed a packaged history
i have stomached the last
blank page
blank tape
blank face
i want the aching
absent
bleeding truth
in full colour detail
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