Auckland Art Gallery


You take so easily what is mine

Hold it in your hand in front of me

And tell me that it is yours

That raft of Medusa is not our waka

Goldie not our whakapapa

Take it down right now

Put Shane cotton’s one in that place

And let today speak of yesterday

By the living of the making of the picture

This poetry reverses all scripture

So many paintings of people broken

Elements of the collection token

While the Chiefs in there show no cracks

The rest have arrows in their backs

Okay Parekowhai your brother is round

He makes no sound but still he is loud

I want to take my posca and give him a face

In spite of everything we are not a dying race

Seen clearly in

His beer gut and his bouncer authority 

All the sickness in the medusa

A portal for the Chiefs discontent

Look in that room one more time

And ask yourself is this the whole Story

Cos Maori we should not take this lying down.