Current Residence: Sydney, Australia
MP3 player of choice: Internal iPod
Skin of choice: y so racist?
Favourite cartoon character: anyone from Sayonara, Zestubou Sensei; L (DN); Nakuru, Kaho (CCS); Apu (The Simpsons)
Telephone InterrogationThis is wonderful, it seems like everything is going to work out after all. Her stern tone changes; the conversation sharpens. Beads of perspiration form on his forehead. What should I how would she handle it? This is my last chance. I shouldnt tell her, I dont have to. But I have to be honest, its the right thing to do.Telephone Interrogation by schwarz-flugel
He tells her his darkest shame: the words slip out, darts piercing his confidence. Despite the silence that soon follows, his mind scans for the nearest exit to escape the chaffing telephone booth. She wont accept me now, she wont accept me now, shell never accept me now. He tries to even his breathing.
She speaks again condescendingly, authoritatively. Her quick monosyllabic jabs begin to chew and spit him out, not giving him the chance to concert himself after each blow. Did she just she didnt. But she did. What its not like this sort of thing hasnt happened before
Untitled: Boy With A ClubfootDisgusting, detested,Untitled: Boy With A Clubfoot by schwarz-flugel
Voice constantly muffling,
The boy looks at me
Infinitely and idiotically smiling.
At birth to now,
Past to present,
The boy remains
He looks at me with a foolish grin;
I look at him with chagrin.
What does he expect of me?
Why does his gaze make my ego thin?
The town speaks ill of I.
The boys a nuisance, I sigh.
This will keep them quiet, no rumours to bind.
Child of mine, why wont you die?
You bring nothing but shame:
Shame for your uselessness,
Shame for your crippled state.
Anger consumes my mind.
Thrusting a crutch for which to lean,
The exit to a life he must weave.
Go, he looks at me, not green,
A smile so keen
Playing at his lips.
He grabs the crutch: for once I
Am scared for my safety
However he leaves me unharmed.
The idiot boy turns unquestioning,
His voice leaves silence ringing.
Throwing aside my pride, I reach
For him unwillingly:
Gone, never to return.
He walks like the cripple he is,
My HeritageBrown eyes, Green eyes,My Heritage by schwarz-flugel
Wog and a half,
But shes part slant-eyed
Where do you come from?
Why, Australia, (says I)--
No, where do you come from?
I was born here so Australia?
Psh, it must be because shes mixed bred,
She cant even tell me where shes from.
So, where are your parents from?
My dad was born in Malta but he grew up here;
My mum was born in the Philippines but moved here.
So youre a mutt? [laughs]
I guess so [nervously laughs]
Are you more Asian or European?
Im Australian: Im more Australian.
But what about your culture?
No, your CULTURE, what about your CULTURE?
What are you more of, would you say?
(I lie) A bit of this, a bit of that.
What are you more of, though?
Both, neither, Australian, all of the above.
Youre Australian above all else
Because you were born here.
My mother is a Filipino, she lived and died there.