April 20, 2021


Between the seat rows, his cheesy smile

I could be travelling up the Nile

There’s a rancid smell, it sure is vile

The tour guide, his peachy tie, his perfumed odour,

His relentless lies

Where are we going? I ask confused

See, that road sign, he said amused

Far from home, commence your trials

Not another white man for 27 miles

We stop in one of 20 cities

Not the kind of place that I’d call pretty

Built for profit, not for comfort,

drab enough to send you blind

In a time backwards you cannot wind

Of uptorn statues, of rubbed out books

I’m stranger, with a stranger’s looks

Stranger food, and stranger dials

Not another white man for 100 miles

A heaving mass of alien forms

From far abroad where they were born

Babbling in an incessant lingo, a loud, inconsiderate tongue

The process of change has begun

A diet straight from grubby Laos

Everything’s a Babylon of chaos

The spices range from hot to mild

Not another white man for 200 miles

A creature with skin the colour of a sewer

Grabs my shoulder, and breathes in my eyes

Has a visa for work, and he works for spies

He brought his family, his uncles and cousins

Before long the city is a swarming, swarthy seething mass of brown piles

I look again at the latest sign, the harshest laws, the vaccine vials

I don’t need to read it, I don’t need guile

To know there isn’t another white man for 1000 more miles

I set about finding a place to eat

Halal certified every meat

The cooking wafted, the smell of curry,

I was out of there in a hurry

On the road, speeding away

The coach drove all night and every day

Till a sign loomed up ahead too much a while

Not another white man for 2000 miles

Black, brown, yellow and tanned, bugger me if I’m not damned

I grew up both there and here, and watched everyone I know disappear

In a micro flash, a quantum pace, aliens now own the place

While the monied class count their money.

They said it’s so strange you are not queer

You do not wear a mourning dress, you do not display a festive style

That’s where I understood

There’s not another white man for a million miles

We we we, the guide kept saying, like a donkey that won’t stop braying

Interrupting my privileged praying, and plans to leave that I was laying

I travelled north, south and west, to find a town that was the best

That was as far away as I could get, from the coloured rodents and their nests

This diversity, this lack of white, this black is better, this Wokened shite

Doesn’t matter where you go, said the guide, we will follow

What is yours will soon be ours’, your destination is our desire

Imported on imported tyres, eyeballs teeth, and Kmart fryers

Don’t think we don’t relish your bile

You better get off, you’re the last white man for a billion miles