11 May 2012
Where are you from? They ask, Where do you come from? Disinterested and polite Small talk to fill small gaps.
But I stop. Phase out. They think me simple As my clouded eyes glaze Where am I from?
It's a segmented answer Like an unripened fruit; Sour (or potential sweet) With seeds of future peace within
Is it birthplace, where you're from? The start of ego's geography I was born in the usurped Cape Of Africa's gorgeous danger; Is this where I'm from?
The law says I'm a son of England, And walk the flawed lanes Of bloody empire and crown; But the law's an ass. Is this where I'm from then?
But I'm flesh of my father Born from a mother Whose Ireland and Scotland And England might war With the Buenos Airean Or the Antipodean... Confused?
For now, I'm uncertain. My roots might be severed Or too deep downto see - Obscured by moleshit And a life of restless feet.
For now, where I'm from Is a simple idea: Where I'm from is not fixed But the present and future And that, I can confidently say is I am Everywhere Boy And my home is You.
Indigeny • Opuss № I