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:
Go forth and conquer
The world is yours
those enemies of Christ.
FOOLS AND COWARDS
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.
Cry Bloody Maria
your son is dead.
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.”
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
– 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
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
– threaten our thoroughfares with
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.