No star is one

Blue is the star of my mother's people,

Six is the number they wear,

Six points of tension,

Six children mentioned,

When referencing the six points of David

Hailing from a green star,

Centred in red,

Colonisation to which it led

Them to say étoile bleue with an arab tongue

While the people of David learn it in schools

And come home to the knowledge

They’ll never be shun

Yellow the star was

That the fair haired ones wore

When black and blue

Were the only colours they knew,

And red rare

For it meant good health

Or bloodshed more humane

Than a colourless gas

A prior thought inane

So they sailed in

On the blue seas of promise

And cried, for their homeland

Was no longer a dream

But a vision realised

By zions esteem

Poisoned by bias

Hostility ensued,

Even amongst the members

Of the six pointed blue,

And my mother's family grappled

With a promise so fickle

That would leave behind millions

To live off a schtickle

Six pointed blue

Fought five pointed red

For power

And money

And getting ahead.

No one could think of a people

Turning on their own,

And it wouldn’t have a occurred to me either,

That's just something you’re shown.