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Ukraine fires western supplied munitions on the railways market in Donetsk

Ukraine fires a salvo of Czech supplied grad rockets on civilians in Don...

Ukrainian drones drop bombs on children in Donetsk

Violeta's Birthday - A frontline child who hasn't known a day without b...

The ghost of Azovstal, an epic battle in the Russia - Ukraine war

A message from the children of Donbass

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The story of Violeta - a child who has lived every day of her life under...

Donetsk is on fire - Ukraine hammers Donetsk with western supplied munit...

A Russian commander shares with us some truth bombs from the frontline ...

Dead & injured as Ukraine hits civilians in Donetsk with western supplie...

Ukrainian Cluster bombs rain on the city of Donetsk

We go to the frontline to Check on Violeta and get caught in Heavy Ukrai...

Distributing humanitarian aid under fire to dozens of people on the fron...

Talking to civilians as an insane artillery battle rages over Donetsk

Miracle in Donetsk - a rocket hits a few meters from a busy market

Ukraine fires western supplied rockets on the centre of Donetsk

Doing humanitarian work under fire in Donetsk

McDonald's in Donetsk - How sanctions work/don't work

Under fire on the frontline with a little baby

The story of violete - An unsung victim of war

I am Alina. The weapons you supply to Ukraine injured me and damaged my ...

A day trip to Mariupol

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Donetsk votes and we are out talking to the people

Elections under fire in Donetsk

The bombing never stops

CONVERSATION WITH A PEACEFUL WARRIOR

lunchtime assault on Donetsk

A look at the munitions used on civilians in Donetsk

Another day of rockets raining on Donetsk

Under fire conversations with civilians on the frontline

We went for a Peaceful trip to the azov sea and got greeted by rockets o...

Giving a voice to the youth of Donetsk

Cluster bombs terror in Donetsk

Donetsk diaries - Saturday in the park

Donetsk's WW2 story

tales of life and death from Donetsk

Exposing MSM in Donbas - eyewitness report

Mid morning in Donetsk - Coffee, bikies and more

I arrived in Donetsk

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Journey to Donetsk - first stop Stalingrad

white clouds and eyewitness reporting from Moscow

The Red Square and a Flower girl

What life is really like in Moscow

Another day in Moscow

Ukraine Drone attack near my Moscow hotel

I FINALLY MADE IT TO RUSSIA - WELCOME ABOARD

SHAMAN — МОЙ БОЙ (музыка и слова: SHAMAN)

This man -SHAMAN is changing Russia through his music. The sleeping slav is awakening, no more admiring the decaying west

THE PROTOCOLS OF SATAN

Siberia - First impressions

Tucker Carlson Ep. 9 The Andrew Tate interview

WHY GOD MATTERS

Ah, white man, Have you any sacred sites?

 

Ah, White Man, Have You Any Sacred Sites? - Denis Kevan

AH, WHITE MAN, HAVE YOU ANY SACRED SITES? - DENIS KEVAN

Ah, white man, I am searching for the sites, sacred to you,
Where you walk, in silent worship, and you whisper poems, too,
Where you tread, like me, in wonder, and your eyes are filled with tears,
And you see the tracks you’ve travelled down your fifty thousand years.

I am searching round Australia, I am searching, night and day,
For a site, to you so sacred that you won’t give it away
For a bit of coloured paper, say a Church you’re knocking down,
Or the Rocks, your nation’s birthplace, by the Bridge, in Sydney town.

Your cathedrals I have entered, I have seen the empty aisles
Where a few knelt down in sorrow, where were all the children’s smiles?
Big cathedrals, full of beauty, opal glass, and gleaming gold,
And an old man, in an overcoat, who had crept in from the cold.

Your schools, I drifted through them, heard the sound of swishing canes,
Heard the yell of angry teachers crushing flowers in their brains,
Heard the bark up on the rostrum where the powers had their say,
Wouldn’t children’s hearts be sacred, though they’re made, like mine, of clay?

Where’s your wonder? Where’s your worship? Where’s your sense of holy awe?
When I see those little children torn apart by fear of war,
What is sacred to you, white man, what is sacred to your clan?
Are your totems rainbow-feathered? Is there dreaming in you, man?

Sacred … sacred … sacred … gee you chuck that word about,
And when echoes answer sacred … sacred louder still you shout,
And the echoes come in patterns, and then, louder, every one
Till they meet, like waves together, and go bang! just like a gun.

Sacred … hesitating … now, a film is reeling through
My brain, and through my memory, of our sacred rendez-vous,
Of our meeting, of our parting, of my tears, as sweet as ice,
Of my numb incomprehension of a shattered paradise.

Sacred, oh so sacred, was our sacred rendez-vous,
And your ferocious anger when you found we weren’t like you,
But if I should make an act of faith, in a voice, both firm and clear,
That there’s something sacred to me, you starting drowning in your beer.

What is sacred to you, white man, what is sacred to your heart?
Is Australia just a quarry for the bauxite belts to start?
Where the forests are forgotten, and the tinkling of the bell
Of the bell-bird in the mountains, is just something more to sell?

Ah, brother, I am searching for the sites, sacred to you,
But the rivers, clear as crystal, smell like sewerfuls of spew
From the pipe and pump polluters, and the nukes that fleck the foam,
Would you let a man, with dirty boots, go walking through your home?

Sacred means that … sacred … it’s a place where spirits rise,
With the rainbow wings of sunset, on the edge of paradise,
Sacred … that’s my father, that’s my mother, that’s my son,
Sacred … where the dreaming whispers hope for everyone.

In the silence of the grottoes of Australia’s mighty land,
Stand together with the kooris, stand together, hand in hand,
Open eyes to endless beauty, and to spirits, far and near,
For Australia is my country, it is sacred to me here.

Ah, white man, I am searching for the sites, sacred to you,
Where you walk, in silent worship, and you whisper poems, too,
Where you tread, like me, in wonder, and your eyes are filled with tears,
And you see the tracks you’ve travelled down your fifty thousand years.

© Denis Kevans

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