Three Poems Known

(written ninth August 2008)

Would that she not wonder

Why the loot stripped ripped asunder

For a face to plunder

Will straw hats shake out the wonder

Of how someone spoke their number

In advising child like kind of slumber

To go head on down

To the depths of town

Wherein be the best thieves around

For to escape from

Straw hats have broken of

No less than festooned from

Want to prove

Worth in the groove

Of having briefly suffered alike upon

Those words first

Whose work earned

The worth unturned

The Olympics are on

Nothing going for a song

My son’s leaving the whirl

Of how many artifical pearls

Might have been too long

Sold thus upon

For the life of heaven

While ever the leaven

Never ever depends on

That the countenance of hell goes on

So if you’ve found this

And are in a wee fix

Best remember forever

There never was better

And that blessed best

Finds no future in debt

But are debts of the past unpaid yet

The only ones with

Any legitimate claim

Against

Australian Aboriginal basis

To ask for financial reparations

Became portrayed as though racists

When the real engagers

In racial based hatred

Were wondering too long

Upon the nature

Of Australia’s Aboriginal status

And imagined into the equation

A couple of thick idiots

Thick enough to attempt the theft

Of that status

Of being indebted to by

Aborigines on high

But Lord what have they done

Hardly bares accounting the sum

Total abrogation

Of why any fact is ever won

Between his and hers

The queer’s strange world

And the work’s next code unfurled

Why in full view of the sky

The deed had been done

By which to lock none

For the claim had begun

Within their same one

Another like the Other

The accumulation of capital

Is dependently fixed upon

Communication prevention

Between indigenous and refugee stations

While to reconcile national salvation

Each place depends upon

Use of money belong

To love of Earth strong

Let these words sing money’s song

For tired I am of

Awakening in Dreams of

The purses which

Build only delusion

While I have seen

Reality blessed

And my message of this

By heart’s nature

A shape shifter

Might my changes make

None other but the disenfranchised

Rich

For into the shape of a coin

Have my heart and spirit toiled

Gears well oiled

Learned by bacterial foils

To shift

If only I can avoid

Money’s lazing drift

Of working to earn what

We had no real need of but

When the work the Earth needs of us

Was being ignored

So for money that implores

Us to work for no more

Than to save her the Earth

Know we can buy of

No more than to sustain of

The conscience within which

To reforest the planet

Start immediate

Feed all its people

Educate the masses of its

Forgone conclusions

That this poem is

Not written to get rich

For by money yet

Will love be well

When truth proves this I tell

The money is fell

For by its

Dreams of flora and fauna

And the soil’s bacteria

Will the ants have you

Unless by money

You buy only

What saves Earth’s trees too

I have a conclusion

About money’s delusion

In which

I have realised its

Abuse is

Through you who

Fail to realise your own

False advantage grown

Was always penned in

By the owners of monetary capital

Enabling those they groom well

To imagine that if

This place here is new to you

Then those whom oppress you

Are those old to it

This place on Earth

And might include who loved it first

While if you are

Among those longest here

That your oppressor

Must be thus

Those most newly arrived to our shore

But hereby

Do I declare

Of my heart’s nature forever belonged here

Have I

Become by skin colour

Culture and religious basis

As much like those from many other places

Therefore and thereby

Their money world I defy

So blame me well if you like

For I am white

A descendant of invaders

And religious conspiracies

Yet never not been

Indigenous

The Poem Mistaken

Is a title made in caution

For what is my meaning

Do not read of war’s feeling

To be certain:

If, or is it since

Any legitimacy in war

Could have only one cause

Being the protecting of children

When all other methods are failing

But when also it is

That money’s real cause

Is precisely only

That of protecting children

And thus any legitimacy in war

Must be a latter solution

To that we use money for

And after the failure of

Money’s providence

Therefore

When a soldier is paid

The money he earns

Can only disprove

Legitimacy in war

Thus let us not be too poor

To protect what childrhood is worth

Let us not fail to suggest

That social justice works best

By redistribution of wealth

That every child has real access

To what protects

For if we want peace

Motherhood’s love

Is worth no less

Than money’s means

Always being put to the test

Legislation’s Cumulative Nation 

This is Australia’s new station

To have become the cumulative nation

Of what is the real manifestation

In consequence of legislation  

A nation in which

We have true solid pitch

For social justice

By welfare dollar providence  

By public health and housing we stitch

That there always was some reason to this

Processing of legal meaning

Out of religion’s original contexts  

And yet for all its splendors’

In this nation of majestic landscape

And environmentally blessed grandeurs’

We’ve encountered a problem from which

We find no escape  

Since despite all efforts to prevent of

And the fact that no legislation was so intended

According to what we are in information tendered

We seem to have manifested

Our country becoming a police controlled state

Well, that is how the police imagine that their work sustains us anyway mate  

And in which

Truly need we all wonder

About this

Why can here criminals yet exist

When police are so infatuated

With their own status

As to suppose that they control this nation  

Yet perhaps what they’ve failed to sustain

In their own basic minds trained

By the fact of their pay

In which there is some indecent play

For what any of us might believe to stay

Is conditioned through money plain

And when the tax dollars do pay

Even if by private tender game

Well who might control the dream minds

Of those who receive police wages find

Is the tax payers whom wish for

That police will police to their own call

So today in this place

With for whom will God’s Grace

That there need yet be escape

From the false discriminations

Of faked reputations

About whose behaves in illegitimate action

Since by combination

Of specific portions

Of Australian legislation

Is active discrimination

Being enabled against

Those whom believe in true law

Of God’s true people never without money poor

For the flow of information

Is yet for 

So if from out behind the closed police doors

You own dream mind receives not poor

And certainty you find

That it is your own receptive mind

And not by allegations and accusations caused

Then know yourself through mine

That this well informed time

Will prove the death of why

Police find

Themselves able imagine control belongs to their own kind

Yet that but by needs unimagined

Will we receive of

The reason to distrust what

Police controlled governance

Might be if not for

Our own will here to so disprove of 

For just as the criminals

Have police been whom will tell you of

That what is good for all

Might not necessarily be

The best for you and me

And that to improve the life of we three

The police, you, and me

Might it not yet be

Of a need to unravel

The lives of very many other sort of folk

All believing in some other sort of a yolk

But that sort of analysis

Is only what police and criminals devices

Seem to propose in counterpoint harmonies posed

While the real truthful score

I will underline here belonging no less to us all

Is that when one good act

Improves in truth life for many

It also improves life for individuals

But that also is proven of course

That to improve in reality for

Just one man in time evermore

Improves for every man the total score

Of what life is really lived for

And to disbelieve this

Be in love and knowledge poor 

But what was it all for

This time of eons long rain

In providence to the grain

That the nation state became

Might we find one day sore

That the haven for

Those whom live true only to shaytan

Has ever been the police station  

Those houses which form

Termite mounds in your

Dreamtime proud and

Ant mound found

Never too poor  

Be not the real

Parliament

Provided for

And to the bird brained

The feather’s fall

Until 

To her

They do

To do

Of her

But unable

Do her

Yet fear

Through her

They might

Have wanted

Their failure

Be that

Which do

Her

Is of her

To want her

For her will be

To have knew

How to do through

Her

Death be

The party

To Allah’s will

In her thus still

Yet one day

One man will

Do naught but

ThatShe is his own

In Allah’s

Will

As any rhyme’s hill

Might these lines fill

Yet that do I

This my guilt

Until

Until To herThey doTo doOf herBut unableDo herYet fearThrough herThey mightHave wantedTheir failureBe thatWhich doHerIs of herTo want herFor her will beTo have knewHow to do through HerDeath beThe partyTo Allah’s willIn her thus stillYet one dayOne man willDo naught butThatShe is his ownIn Allah’sWillAs any rhyme’s hillMight these lines fillYet that do IThis my guiltUntil

  This poem I wrote recently is one I might post in the New Matilda website forum, and so I am tagging this post with a “Matilda’s” tag, especially for us Aussies, and sort of experimentally.  But whether it came from Matilda herself, found in Waltzing her to the grave, or is one you want to blame upon her, that’s for your own conscience.   

Belief in the Self as the Citizen might have right 

In this country my home

Now in a forty year zone

Of having imposed

Being citizens of legislative process

Upon every one among

Those of us born here

As though it was us who did

Define legislature

As real law

In this country we love

There has to become

More positive reason

For being a citizen

Than the ongoing failure

Of legislature

To provide justice

In this nation in which

Belonging to land is

And notion of what a house is

Has always been more collective

Yet therein the private becomes

The home we carry with us

Defined by what is the indigenous

Association with worth in

Holding onto what is without

Immediate utility

For when holding on

To what is your own

To belong

Even when wrong

Has one simple function

Determined by collective suggestion

Of to which story might you belong

In which animal tale might you become strong

Through the money you pay for

How is it you are housed

Might indigenous Australia this

Now after forty years paying

Redefine the nature

Of what it means to be

A citizen

Of the nation

State of mind being

What will be what houses your feeling

And believing it also best

Inshallah like the rest

Of Humanity’s best

Will let the money we spend

In the oil industry

Mark us as is

Our real nature to be

For a house our self

Might test imperfectly

To the truth we lead in full attest

While by the carbon

That your car burns

You become what you be

Directly proportionally

Is that you buy

What you cause with

Your purchase

And in each citizenship test

Might we

Ensure this

Ideal is

Bound into

By shared citizenship

With

Whoever we really are is

Bound in now

To those old allegory

Not originally our own but by now

Of the house with four rooms

And the horse drawn carriage

No future without the past can manage

But forever will we roam

This land free in mind

Of imprisonment of the citizenship kind

Like all my work this is copyright protected and needs to be attributed, but can be shared if not-for-profit, and so long as there are no derivatives.  I tend to use my wordpress, and other, web logs, to place my writing into while it is not yet in a final draft, so you might need patience.

Tobacco 

I know of a bloke

Who holds his accounts afloat

By blaming whomever

Need partake of

Any medicine

That is prescribed within

Legislation

And when

Once I believed him

Then he told me I needed

To get such medicine

Of the anti-psychotic variety

Presumably

From believing in him

And I got and took it

And I found therein

All my Dreams turned in

To the nightmare of

His own hate for life

And his own worth depised of

In his consciousness

That such as he is

He needed to force me

Psychologically

To take such medicine

Only so as he

Could be manifesting

Any real sanity

While in the meantime

I stopped taking the medicine

Then stopped needing him

Then recovered

So all is well but

For to find that

He still blames me at

And sought to force me

Take such medicine again

So as to enable

That my own Dreams

Of reality

Can make only himself stable

And have no way

To manifest me

Which supposition

I resisted immensely

Until now here you see

I am remembering

That when I took of

That anti-psychotic

Medicine

I promised myself

In each swallow

To take upon myself

What he blamed me with

While he imagined

His own good health

At my expense his dish of wealth

And so now might I

Begin

To believe I

Can condemn

His falsehoods

By every swallow

Of any future medicine

Including even

The food I buy

That well might you also

Remember me and give it a try

To improve your own mental health

Just by

Commitment to believe

In only what has evidence

Every time you chew

And swallow what

It is you your self need

And as for the bloke

His last delusion of me

Will be for him to choke

Since he believed in

My worldly offer

Of health to him

As though without

That accompanying

Condition

That he like me

Give up

Tobaccoo

The Cry That Knows No Supposition 

The following poem is as direct a way as possible of imparting the essence of the indigenous world of Australian Aborigines. Usually the teaching is not quite so direct.  But the critical essence is that of our inseminating motivation in using Animist methodology; and that fact that such motivation has essentially always been fully Human.

Want Not Ill 

I can want

A multitude

Of things

Perhaps only because

Of having been given

But what is it

I can be

Willing to want

If not just will to work to belong

Among who are at one with God

Is what will cure me

Of ever wanting what was wrong

Whether to be cured by

Learning the opposite

Through positive re-enforcement

Reconciling to truth meant

Or by learning how I orient

Into what I will not

Want to be permanent

By being causal to want of

For just the right length

Of time until

I awaken to conscious fear of ill

The reason this single and obvious aspect of indigenous Australian teaching is being made so very explicit today, is because there are those whom abuse our culture, but portraying us as always liking to fall into any want which might be thrust upon us.   The fact is that the conditions in which we can encourage one another to accept enactment of specific wants, are those conditions in which there is a set up such that the experience provides a lesson about why not to want certain modes of mental patterning.

This poem is copyright to me, Rebecca Copas, aka ANungarrayididitdotCopas, and along with all that I own, is owned by a.c.n. 123 212 671 pty ltd.

The copyright is not for sharing in this instance, it must be attributed, and it is always NOT FOR PROFIT, true to the Spirit of every true intiation into the tradition of the Prophets.