on the table

’25 April 1787′ and other poems – Rushil D’cruz

Rushil D’cruz is a 21-year-old student, musician, writer, and immigrant from Malaysia.

On The Page is a series of writing and poetry submitted to the Centre for Stories as part of the 2019 Centre for Stories Inclusion Matters Hot Desk Fellowship.

Rushil D’cruz is a 21-year-old student, musician, writer, and immigrant from Malaysia. Attempting everything from short stories and poetry to hypertext writing and micro fiction, Rushil’s work attends to the idiosyncrasies of Australian society and how individuals are programmed to ignore systems of oppression. He also studies Medicine at the University of Western Australia, works in video art, and is slowly infiltrating the punk rap scene.

Get to know more about Rushil here.

25 April 1787

God spoke to me

in a dream

voice dripping with honey:

Phillip !

Go forth and conquer

The world is yours


the swine,

the illiterate,

those enemies of Christ.


those who flee

the Sword of Truth

Set fire to their villages

and deafen your ears to their pleas

For the devil is a charmer and deceiver besides

And he will level an army of lies against you.

strength is found in Numbers

in Fortitude of the Soul.

Prayers and Supplication for the 21st Century

in the cascading light

of your omnipresent inequity

A mother cries over the death of her lamb.

its blood paints red

the stars of our universe;



Come find me here.

Bloody Maria

Cry Bloody Maria

your son is dead.

And transfigured;

yours no longer.

chain yourself to a shovel and get to work.

      “In the end, we took the virgin in her sleep—being signed over by her parents—and bound her by her hands and feet to The Wheel, drilling holes across her body. We did not gag her, but let her screams wake the townspeople to notify them that soon we would begin bartering in blood. In those last days, when her skin was pale and her teeth black, she whispered, ‘There is a light coming,’ before falling into the darkness.

–        That night, we ate her flesh and snorted the dust of her bones.”

—Witness Testimony

in the trial of

The People V.  Gautam Shantilal Adani


when i will be 22

When I will be 22

–               i run from home

–                             With a knapsack of coffee//bitter to remind me of returning//not returning

with the clothes on my back



searching for

                parental advisory


                 arms to hold and receive.

If they forgive,

            they’ll forgive

–            and reclaim your soul

In chains, bound down with the others

while flowers fragrant and wild

sprout from your eyes

and tongue

When we question, we falter

When we doubt, we fall.


The thoroughfare by the train station

fines the homeless for sitting.

They will pay $500 out of their

–                                                            hats           and

–                                                            cups         and

–                                                            buckets

–             for

–                           sitting.


–               threaten our thoroughfares with


–                                                      sitting.

truly sickening



the stench of lavender weighs the air

–                 and a bird is perched by the balcony

     I could not blame you

                       for flying far from here.Copyright © 2020 Rushil D’cruz