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

  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.

After the Wallabies Won 20th By Four

Scary Muslim bag lady
Wonders upon what lately
That curly haired cowboy
With Artistic professional employ
As he instructed belief
Her fashion not yet in grief
Only her own work brief
That evening he drunkenly
Confused her for having had of him
An idea they would met
For the words of a poet
Were never written to hide in a wallet
But that they who so choose of
Might take for their next job
Debts owing acknowledged because
In the iron ore’s sand word was
That bullshit which talked
When the money it walked
Upon which stick was the cause
And how many mistakes were
When discussions of weather
Aroused naught but flaws
Racial exposure of renown for my pause
To be not a stranger of course
But certainly not what
Cowboy(s) have imagined of
So google me if you please
Or if not since I neither
But of surname Copas
The first is
Among that sent by
Courier Mail
4th May 18th August and
Date unfavourably but namely
So best not avail
Of bad tempers by this Grail
That never yet fell
To a policeman’s hell
Their conviction of begun with
What ever they supposed you me have did
While I failed also t
Take up their work offer
In which Cowboy stew
They branded me unto
Marked with insanity or being a prostitute
Nice try but
I need what my motherhood suits
And the drunken approach
Just last week no joke
But who can this reconcile unto
The real worth of whose float
Is a lesson to
Take care of
The red head’s
False evidence
So what
Lately but

You have been reading a product of
“Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time;
AManuel,”(TM) (R)
The game to play to learn you well
That you might never tell
Is best left to the swell
Of the real time
Virtual reality device
Joy at home then will nice
Not of my own vice
Yet bound through rice
One more black baby saved was
That my own this will cause you have of

No apology necessary to who it is written for,

But if you were that in the pool of

Afraid of what went on between us

The apology is yet not but

I think your heart the . . .

This is a news media sort of piece of writing, that I wrote in response to the general advocacy which was being given in the media for Paris Hilton’s release from the prison of gaol, into the prison of an anklet, over the weekend; but before her re-imprisonment. 

Of her re-imprisonment what I want here to add is that it is my constant regard that the methodology of the paparazzi is cruelty, and that Paris Hilton herself may well have been served a good turn by both Sheriff Lee Baca, and  the Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Michael Sauer.  The first mentioned for letting his officers release her, and in that release identifying her health state, as is mindful of many so very famous persons.  The second mentioned is whom has sought to rightfully prove that being famous, and even being abused by the media, is no excuse for criminal behavior, and in such it will most certainly be Paris Hilton whom benefits from the lesson in the long run, since hers are the tears shed openly and shamelessly within the media spectacle. 

The original article I wrote has been edited now twice, with obvious additions to the timing made in italics. Depending upon which of my weblogs you are reading it in, it may or may not be in the most recent draft, and may or may not reflect well enough when I actually originally first responded to the popular media coverage in Australia.  But to prove myself, the true timing is still within a copy I posted.. 

Read on only if you dare, because the article is named:  

If I were Paris Hilton . . . 

Well for one, I might like to keep the spelling as Perez, as I myself saw it only recently.  Actually I rather liked her better once I had seen that spelling, for some odd, but very Australian sort of reason. 

However, that is not what I was first intending to write, but before I tell that, I ought to first also tell that, be it not mine to wish Paris-Perez into any grand Bear Hug by night.  Since what is my first and most principal like want for her, is to truly befriend Bindi Irwin.   

Now this may take some explaining, and I can, so therefore will I try. 

Very recently both Paris Hilton and Bindi Irwin have been featuring large on Australian Television.  And what is beginning to manifest in at least my mind, but that I suspect also of very many Australians, is the contrast between the Perez style of mixing Australian method of learning, with an American, and the Irwin style. 

Paris Hilton has recently been in Australia, brought here by John Singleton.  But with John Singleton’s well renown reputation, we Aussies barely raised an eyebrow, and only suppose that Mr Singleton is just being very, well, just very, very greedy that is. 

While also it is still recent that we all bear with the death of Bindi Irwin’s, and Bob’s father.  A man whose fame in our eyes was a bit of an amusing spectacle, and whom we rarely ever acknowledged liking, that is, until he died and our whole country mourned his passing with open tears.  “Way to got out, mate, you did yourself a beauty”, might be our inner regard for his worth amid our tears. 

But there now, is Terri Irwin, up there in front of our eyes, showing us an American Mom’s approach to the lesson in her dearly departed former husband’s death, for her daughter’s lesson.  Now even being tourism ambassadors for Australia.  Why the ‘but’, you might well ask.  That but is because, but, but, but why, Terri, WHY, are you being so able in such stable cool while Bindi is doing such an AMAZING job up there of the face of us. 

You see, as for the rest of us Aussie mothers, why, we’d just be far too darn terrified of what we then might be needing to be forgiving of in our child.  However, we are all very carefully observant of Terri.  The truth of the matter is because not one of us ever believed that a man like Steveo could have chosen to be the mother of his children, any but the best of American.  The Irwin family fathership well proven among us, we need watch carefully for a full ratification of what we have been previously missing about how Americans are so well adept at raising children. 

In our way, a child’s pride, is quite markedly dismembered, at every and any turn.  To such an extent that if any of us rise up head and shoulders above the crowd, first we are repeatedly pulled back down, and then eventually, only perhaps after the age of about forty, get begrudgingly acknowledged as not ever having been trying to become famous, but rather if it is that fame arrived for us, it was because we were imposed upon by the social conditions to do the fame thing. 

Our culture is harsh, but itself famous for never enabling any tall poppy.  While we see of the Americans that many are enabled up there as big people.  Well, actually our mob, (mob is the collective pronoun for kangaroos – and as kangaroo is my totem among Indigenous Australia, a mob we are), are really, and veritably, quite as big as any American.  Yet expectant of no fame or money from the largeness of us.  Being dragged down all the time, one gradually during childhood recognizes why it is that fame just ain’t what we really were ever wanting.  As for money, its trick is just really quite obvious to even a child. 

Remember that we are a people invaded by Europeans for a few less years than Indigenous America is.  But were earlier imposed upon by Chinese whose arrival is in the archaeological record as having been only one hundred and fifty years before the Europeans.  Yet our people recognize a far longer influence of Chinese culture among us, and also that of the Indian subcontinent.  When you look to our closest neighbours, in places like Bali and Dili, the cultural influences we share with the world are quite obvious really.  In fact, the most significant of has long enough already been Islam. 

Islam’s influence upon our Indigenous cultural base is possibly about eight hundred years old by now.  We have men among our Aboriginal community whom dream in reciting Qur’an in Arabic.  Another I have met Dreams of being enabled to play guitar so well as he can, by other older dreams of playing instruments indigenous to Persia: and he is a colour blind man.  But most especially important to us, is that our song cycles are well already adapted to the various Surah of Qur’an which already had a tale in our own culture and place.  The Yolgnu Rom ceremonies being the best renown of examples of. 

Another fact of the influence Islam has long had upon us, but which is less renown, is that when we let Muslims upon our country, and in the very ritualized forms of Jihad we engaged in, (our battles are always very staged – though never any less real, or less felt, for being staged – only slightly more predictable in outcome), we had a sort of agreement constantly between those already converted and those not yet converted. 

The agreement was that we would retain a portion of Australian territory which need not convert, just in case we were the culture from among whom might arise the child whom first finds that Islam is the only way, from a basis of having no modern Islamic education.  That portion is knowable as east of the red centre and south of the border with Queensland.  Including where my own family are from. 

But having said that, I must also tell that today in Hijab I dwell.  Most of the time at any rate, and always am I noticing when my appearance finds way out of this shell.  A shell in which it comes to me now to tell.  I recently also saw upon television, Paris Hilton visiting a Pakistani Muslim family for the day, and being a housewife; and in memory of which, I must say, “Paris, Honey, you looked glorious in the black and white; are real rare American beauty.” 

What I am here in this writing, conspiring to tell, is that I perceive what is happening, is that Paris Hilton is manifesting one variety of a cultural combination between American and Australian, whilst the Irwins are manifesting that other variety.  I know that in America there are at least two such distinct ways, if not four, and held very distinct.  But here in Australia, the distinctions are not a part of our open culture.  Instead we hold open to children our Animal identifications.  So what is happening in many media contexts, in relation to the blending of the Australian and the American rites of passage into adulthood, is a really very solidly happening thing in which every mother need be paying all self decent attention. 

So then, here from an Australian perspective, I might make a little commentary for the Amerian audience.  Perhaps only mentioning Paris Hilton and Bindi Irwin, as two persons whose life story shows us a teaching story for what works in such cultural blending. 

In Paris’s situation, this morning on breakfast television, we here in Australia are in mourning for her.  We all are in total support of the Sheriffs having sent her home for medical reasons.  And in fact, honey, if you happen to google your name today, I must tell you that if I were you Paris, as well as befriending Bindi, I would be keeping my self out of the media for the whole forty days, and keeping all the pet faeces your place might have, and then at the forty first day, I would dress the faeces as though a nice brunch for the media, and place under each serve of, a polite note stating: “Thankyou for letting the world know I have a medical condition.” 

This is factually belying the American standard of debasement of poorly behaved children, I know.  But in the case of Paris, if it were true that she has been exemplifying a combination of Australian culture and American, then it had already been let go too far. 

We Australians, within the Indigenous belief system, all still today believe that we will one day turn into an animal, or a plant, or any other natural form of living giving matter.  In fact, for every one of us, our belief in our self, is cornered by certain blessing upon us as children of knowing who our animal is.  Our pride is wholly and soul-ly consolidated in such.  Especially, in fact, amongst the best of us.  Thereby explaining truly how it can be that we pull down each other’s pride so frequently.  Any person whom repeatedly pops back up as famous, is clearly an example of a very self disciplined mind. 

That is why, in the case of a person like Paris, we all regard that the situation was long already gone too far.  She is, after all, substantially older than Bindi.  Do I here belie my own situation, at nearly thirty nine, not yet in real adulthood, despite my every effort, and my three sons, in that direction.  That’s OK, I am an accountable person, and nobody else need bear any shame in my world for any fact of my existing. My mention here of myself certainly underlines the need for what is worthy of the American tradition to be applied, but not without due consideration of the constant application of the Australian system.  After all, being still regarded as a child, by my own mob, at 39, and despite motherhood well established, surely there is something wrong in this situation that I need mention myself at all.  Therefore let me be only just a little less than usually self indulgent in mention of my own self here.  

What is wrong is not with my motherhood though, I must emphasise to the extreme, which is perhaps why I mention myself at all.  It is that the whole way any culture contains and sustains maternal daughter relations is of a true very close regard in myself, having grown up with a major fault in such relations, but one without traceable cause, in that it is not the fault of either my mother or myself.  Of my grown up and culpable self, even that is not truly yet in adulthood, let me say that the Traditionally Oriented Aboriginal community in the Northern Territory mostly own my culpabilities, that is except for the parts owned and being held accountable, within the more wide Ummah that is all Islam, inclusive of those within other Religious affiliations, but whom believe in truth in Allah and the last prophet.  My accountability is at this stage already so extreme that it is too difficult to imagine any man actively able to Husband me, and yet one will one day most certainly.  He will additionally have the effect of enlargement my degree of culpability in every direction.  So then here, perhaps you can adequately conceptualise why my own story bears relation upon my observations of American mothers, in relation with their daughters.  I know my own pride gone too far, only too well, in fact.  The reality that will strike me is surely that most of my writing is not about the sort of things any child should write about.  

To that effect might I also here mention another slight difference between Australian and American tradition.  In our Australian world the whole culture gravitates around women’s work in consolidating Kinship, as a series of stable marriage relations, which then determine every other possible social relation.  We have a few precise rules.  In fact, while most are quite subtle, it is that every possible social interaction has strictly managed, and heavily sanctioned, rules of what is the factual possibility.  Each person has a ‘skin’ name, which addresses both the totem animal believed in, as the culture is basically Animist, but also the name addresses the Human potential and possibility.  For example, my skin name is that I am a Nungarrayi, and that name, if it were to be translated into Hebrew, would translate as Rivaq, that is Rebecca, which is also the name upon my birth certificate which my father accurately gave.  Many Australians without Indigenous culture and language, carry a generic nickname which has the same function as a ’skin’ name.  Or their birth name has a specific ending added to it, which denotes a certain social function, status, and ability.  Being a Nungarrayi might only be the same as being a Bec.  Being a Nungarrayi also determines my song, my mind, and names the ley line of my birth and grave.  

As a Nungarrayi, these are the most strict rules I am established within, of belief that life can be no different.  Every male whom is a Jangala I must regard as a Husband.  That is whether we actually ever marry or not, and we will be gradually accustomed to treat each other as Husband and wife through all stages of childhood, to the extent that we really truly find our minds fearing each other very much, because the embarrassment of realizing each other as though in a sexual relation, we actually not yet if ever, is so very huge, especially in the mind of any child.  Given that fact, such childhood relations are clearly monitored to a high degree of social involvement and concern.  No child finds their feet in society without everybody knowing every embarrasing detail.  Well, that is my experience, but I expect that I am in the extreme end of the Australian way, and that many other Australians far better protect their children than my mother was enabled to.  What has happened to myself puts me in a position of being able to consider the American system in how it is stronger than the Australian, but also being able to find what feels bereft from the American for a person like myself, that is what the strength in the Australian system is which has protected me truthfully.   

If I meet a Jungarrayi, whom is a brother to me, I must treat him as well as my own son.  He would also be the only male allowed to ever hit me, and that he could only if I ever by accident attend upon any perception of any sexual interaction among any persons, but whilst in his near vicinity.  If he and I were to engage ourselves in any sexual interaction, we would become permanently austracised by our whole community.  I am also even today expected to austracise any person whom has engaged in any sexual activity with a person whom is the same ’skin’ as their own self, which is truly the hard call for all of us.

Then there is any male whom might be a son-in-law to me, or my brother be his sister’s son-in-law, (these relations being determined within a presupposition that I will marry only a Jangala man), and we must at all times be in total avoidance of one another.  We might become to live in good respectful closely bound blood relationship, but will never directly address each other.  If it happens that we were to engage in sexual activity, we would be ritually speared to death, within traditional culture.  Socially distrusted and openly disliked and discouraged within mainstream society.  I am encouraged to hate a son-in-law sort, so much that I can not even remember his name.  But another girl who is a sister to him, is whom I will ever look towards for any assistance I require in fitting in.  Additionally my own brothers might look to him as whom performs that actual cutting in any initiations. 

That is inclusive of all of the male initiations: from circumcisions and subincisions; through ritual scarification also of the chest; to a tooth being knocked out.  The people whom I am mainly affiliated with are those with the subincision as the main entry into manhood which might enable marriage, yet I also have immediate affiliations with people whom scar men’s chests, and those whom knock out a boy’s tooth.  If I had not these personal relationships, in our culture, I am forbidden from ever even mentioning that such facts exist. Actually there is usually posed a second best, or even third best category of marriageable man, that is, for me, if no Jangala were yet available, or just in case he might not want me.  Perhaps if I had associated too much in conversation with a son-in-law, for example, or a brother had ever had cause to hit me, then my marriablity is reduced and maybe I might not be good enough for a Jangala.  But as I am born to a mother who is eaglehawk by birth, like her mother, and hers before, it is always better for my husband to be a crow, and I become aligned as a part of the crow family, only once I am my self so made by a crow man. 

Our culture sustains constant and consistent evidence of maternal lineage distinct from, and woven in among, the men’s work of sustaining the story lines by patri-lineal clan allegiances.  My children should all be born a Jampidjimba or a Nampidjimba, and theirs is the story of Tiddalik, the frog who drank all the water in the whole world.  So that my three sons are actually two Jungarrayis and one Jakamara, whose story is alike to the Odessy, is somewhat of a matter of big shame for my own story.  And in that we might just pretend that my sons are Jampidjimbas, that is, until they are becoming ready themselves to enter adulthood, and can identify their true nature all by themselves. 

These are just the bare bones of the whole of any Kinship teaching, as we here in Australia, are taught it as children. Now what I can see there on TV of America, belies a different form of the management of pride.  And it is with wonderment that I admire Terri Irwin letting Bindi be so bold, and with sorrow that I am noticing here on television this morning, that Paris Hilton really had the medical condition which many had only supposed she was in a pretence of having. 

But, let me tell you this about that situation with Paris Hilton.  We Australians, whom never did like her famousness that much, and found it all quite a bit boring really, are this morning, making overt efforts in our most populous media, to be more respectful of her, whilst also observing in shock, that Americans are not.  That is, seemingly not able to believe that she is not in good self knowledge of how she is generally perceived.  Perhaps it is just a show of not believing in her paucity of ablity to consciously regard her self as though removed.  This then presents another fact of the difference between us. 

In our way, our Indigenous Australian culture, if we have a Dream, then that is what is us.  Nothing is about us if ever we Dream it, but it is us. So then here formally, if it might happen to be indeed that Paris Hilton’s medical condition, was only ever the result of a blending of cultures, I will formally congratulate her, in having been made public. For what I can see is that she is herself in truth and in deed.  For our way is to know that if we can not first believe in our self, then how ever will we believe in God, (especially when we name Him Allah).  Paris Hilton’s name is quite as exactly appropriate to her, as mine is to me, and as in fact has Bindi been named.  (I am sure that Terri Irwin will agree that giving birth was no worse than treading upon a grass seed sort of a bindi.)  For in our Australian Dream, what Paris Hilton might be, within an Earth worshiping, nature driven, culture, is no more than the seedling well planted, of a giant redwood to be, perhaps, though maybe more like a Silky Oak.  A tree that is as though a hotel, in whose branches, many and various visitors pass through if you please.  All the beauty in the birds, dropping feathers and nesting, the chirps of their insect friends, and the tree climbing animals, who love all that cover of her leaves. 

However, that is not what I wrote this report to this morning’s media for.  In fact rather it is that I had an idea.  The perhaps if Paris Hilton, befriended Bindi Irwin, that there might arise a good joke, and let me not be who tells that it has any basis in truth.  But this week Bindi is to meet with the Dalai Lama.  So to be sure, it will be Paris who first tells it, I might just gently note, that upon the Queensland Sunshine coast, there could even eventuate acts of open warfare in consequence of the Dalai Lama’s visit, because of the degree to which a faction among organised crime, had been holding the Tibeteans above Indigenous Australians, as worth in Religious belief.  Knowing us Australians, that is, although a likely unseemly outcome, also the matter of a few good jokes, of course. 

Best me then finish this now sooner than later, with expressing that my true real regard is my every expression in this.  A thankyou every person mentioned for handling being the butt of a big Aussie joke, (if you get it yet) and I do truly hope, that Paris gets well soon, Bindi learns true blue the lesson Australian through and through, Peace arrives at Earth, and the American journalist who appeared this morning deriding Paris Hilton upon Australian television, gets a great and giant kick up the butt. 

And see here that I no more than provide for Miss Hilton, a stable consolidated belief in herself as a very decent person, deserving indeed of all that large wealth, in some form or another, eventually, for what the money is worth.  She ought really be letting that monetary wealth drive her better than she has been. 

Here I am adding in a late paragraph, upon the few days later scenario, in which Paris is re-admitted to prison.  Could it be, perhaps, in light of the whole scenario we witness unfolding, that Ms Hilton’s folks have given her that rude shock she needed?  Perhaps it was in the form of the pornography in which she stars becoming suddenly more prevalent, not with her imprisonment, but rather here in Australia, timed in with her release, before re-imprisonment.  Perhaps it is the telling of her in the outcome which we all were waiting for.  What is it that the porn flicks show?  They are on network television late at night here in Australia, in advertising to enabled purchase of a veiwing of through making a phone call on the mobile (cell phone).  Alongside hilarious ads using a joke about addiction portraying a pole dancing stripper in an advertisement for a Halal food outlet.  Ads that make us Aussies believe that the Modern Muslim Ummah of Arabic orientation is, at last, getting us.  But the point here I want to make, is that perhaps, just perhaps, if Paris Hilton’s family have been clever, they did a set up through the Justice department, so that it was their own daughter whom an example was made of.  That tough love works don’t you know.  Pride stings, but what is the lesson we must all take from the way in which Paris Hilton has been abused by the media?

For there is one other last aspect, of our Australian cultural belief, which I had not yet mentioned.  Yet one in which Paris can only be, held in our best regard. We believe that every Dream, and every single thing that might cross the mind, of any person and in ever time, has a basis in the world of reality, of having once before or in future happened truly.  So therefore, if no man can find that the past had it, a person somewhere someday, must take it that Dream into their own future.  Yet of Dreams can we impart, they are not always what they seem at the start.  For the worst of, that any child every could have been harmed, are those known for the wrongdoing causal to, being the cause of any and every fall from the paradise of innocence. 

Yet need such Dreams never have, been enacted, exactly as first read? The answer must always be “obviously not” and those whom instead have supposed their need is only to force such dreams upon others, are obviously wrong in that, because any dream of criminality, is by definition a series of wrongfully assembled images, in which, either that most, or that least, pleasant of the aspects of, can be delayed until the whole manifests without criminality.  For example, if once you Dream a dream, and it has any criminal part, then if that image, of any criminal intent, should have any recognizable aspect, as having once before belonged in another place, why then that part of that dream is knowable, as not needing to be in future again enacted, and so altering the entire Dream, usually right out of any criminality. 

These are long sentences that I have just here spelt out our law with.  Yet to my own name will I take it, that never was I taught, for in the invading culture were no such lessons available to me, and I was distinctly keep apart from other Australian Aborigines; but rather instead did I find that such is true, only by trial and error.  So therefore have the right to teach of.  And within its lesson is that I believe, Paris Hilton is taking upon her own self, a set of our collectively owned Dreams, in which there are many behaviours which not many would want the ill of.  In Australia, the fact that not many could want to be her, is what makes her honourable to us, but in that, if only she can accept herself as she is.

Yet that she can with dignity, is that in her we all will believe, that she need not suffer to in criminality as a permanently scarring identification.  Nor need any other person for the prevention of that her fall might not be to. 

So if I were Paris Hilton, I’d want to meet Bindi Irwin, and I would believe, in the trees, and try to avoid any criminality.  Congratulations to her, if this she sees.    

Original writing copyright June 2007 to ANungarrayididitdotCopas, for the author, Rebekah Marker, owned in common by every shareholder of A.C.N. 123 212 671 PTY LTD.  The copyright may be shared with any person whose use of is Not-For-Profit, within a fifty year financial cycle time frame, and whose use changes neither the authors meaning, or any other implication made by use of the names of the characters mentioned. 

Believe 

World of belief in God

Is just so not

What those whom fail it

Suppose us believers believe

God to be

Judge faith not

For belief is by definition

True to reason

In experiential conditions

So defy not

What your own life’s transitions

Have so far failed to provide of

And if you can not yet believe

In God

And every he bequeath

Then just believe in life

Being sustained by

A mysterious unity of energy

For what else is He

If not singularity

Too large for us to imagine

Too minute in action

For our detection

Too loving of our being

To let us end with existing

If only we forget momentarily

In Him need

For it is of us

Those parts

We have to have for love

In God above

Which fail to believe

In
constance existing

Which are causal to existence ceasing

And yet within

The key is

That every

Perfect unity

Of Faith in Love

Of God above

Of reason

Of science and belief

Of hope to make the Earth our home a better place

Is the aspect of us

The Soul in living unity with

What will not cease

Without God recreating us

Once again

Every moment

So well we are beloved

In the face of the worst that has become of us

Something very strange seems to have happened. 

It is proven that when the kind of girl, whom is most often held dear and precious and so near, and regarded as expensive to make a wife of, happens to be treated with general depravity and denied any real social status of worth, yet also she works by nature to sustain herself, but proves it impossible to sustain attaining material wealth because of such social conditions; well, in every instance of what is herein described, and my self most certainly not the only here in Australia, (where also boys have been so pushed outside of cultural normality), the reality, pans out into an unusually accurate understanding of money, combined with, a will to not want of ever again. 

There is no other key to all my web log stories, which is more important than that key.  There are quite a few keys to the stories being told by me in prose and poetry, and why these stories and their keys are of any relevance, is because here in Australia we have already locked ourselves into a cycle of culture for this new age already upon us, and dawned in the second half of 2003, to my own cycle, and the hard cold fact is that it is a story which has reconciled solid without lust, and accountable in Kiri Elaison.

It is a fact which might not seem very likely, or even possible, given my whole story, but none the less it is.  What happens now to us, is that any overt acceptance of any marriage between those named as sister and brother, within the Kinship categories of brother and sister, (rather than only an blood relation understanding of the nature of our biological and genetic capacities, the idea of being a sister or a brother must be understood within our Kinship as a sort of Human relation ship denying to the possibility of marriage), but whom, if they happen to fall afoul of the dance of time now, will fall overtly outside of culture within all social acceptability as well as only within their own mind.  In our Australian way, not so long ago as Hunter and Gatherers, such persons are traditionally austracised, and experience the rest of their life, if able to survive, well outside of any of our recollections.  Such social conditions, which have long been sustained here in
Australia, are proven by such laws of austracism still today being managed.

The social conditions we were all in once, were not eroded by Islam’s arrival here at the height of the Empire of Islam.  Perhaps it was the Chinese whom arrived here about 350 years ago whom started a process of attempting to erode our capacity to so close the song cycle of time.  And if it was those of them among us are certainly whom work(ed) with the English to corrupt our culture.  But our culture already had three distinct forms, which equitably have been enabled to absorb the Islamic, Chinese, and English cultural forms.  The difficulty we have encountered is that we seem to have been attracting as immigrants, more of the worst of persons than has the
Americas.  More of those persons whom just would not believe in our way of nature.

The Animist Faith of Aboriginal, and that is, Indigenous, Australians, is markedly distinct from that in other places.  We do not assume of ourselves an animal identity only because of known wrongful deeds.  We do not fear to become an animal, but are proud to, and in that we understand why we are also proud in being real Human beings.  For whom ever could sustain a perfectly clear conscience, without any inkling of any other person living in sin, when even Jesus accepted Crucifixion to so re-attain the status of, after facing Satan.  Yet in Jesus we all learn love for his resurrection is real, as is it real, that any Australian Aborigine never harbours any fear of the way to reattain even a less than perfect, but adeptly skilled, sort of Human self.  We just believe in our existence, and are so re-gifted in
constance, without needing any insurance.

This post is an opportunity for me to describe what among my own experience, is portions of the observable evidence, that Kiri Elaison has been already locked into our shared future.  A few of these facts are sort of warning keys, by which you might need to extract your minds from the ills of the time that is preceding developing such understanding.

For example, there is evidence that Rosicrucians are at the forefront of falsifying the facts in a way so as to deny culture, and so proving Rosicrucian belief to be the very definition of insanity, more especially so since world war two than previous, yet always it is insane to believe that Jesus married. 

There is ample sound evidence pointing to the causation of every act of child abuse.  Any of abuse by plain violence, emotional abuse, mental abuse, and sexual assaults, (It being an assault upon any child to expose to so much as the idea of genital stimulation, or even to deny children the right to learn habits which prevent being over stimulated, such as Kabbalah describes circumcision is, and is the genital component of Islamic Wudu.), and every form of hatred of children, can be proven to be caused by adults whom believe in such things, and whom also seek to portray their own ill mental imagery of acts of child hate, as though innocent, but only by making accusations against whom ever they like to believe has been an actual perpetrator.  That is, it is proven that the accusers are causal to the acts of perpetration, because too often accusations were made prior to obtaining worldly evidence, and were made only by imagining what might be, but thereby causal.  That the accusers repeatedly prove themselves to be totally unable to discriminate between who is really enacting such crimes, and their own self hate, is that they were accusing children; and that they are detected in the nature of their ill, is that children exist whom have worn the identities of the accused, but whom never enacted the deeds.

Of course, with that being the social condition, there became necessitated that culture be locked truly into Kiri Elaison.

When I refer to culture, it is reference to the culture of all whom believe.  Belief in God, in Jesus, in Islam, in the nature of your own self even when animal, and even in fact, belief in the Synagogue of Satan.  Believe first in your self to enable belief in Allah.

Let me tell here just a little detail from my own life, for readers to work through determining, how far into myself you might truly be able to believe.

In one local Kinship system and language, my own sort of self is a Nungarrayi, and that is the name there fore called me.  It defines my bone structure ideally, but most notably how my Dreams are active.  So my identifications are socially known to be of a specific nature.  It means being able to talk Law, this specific nature, yet usually it is the male, my brothers, all Jungarrayis, whom do the talking.  We tend to be slothful, and more concerned with time sequences than with location, making us Eaglehawk people rather than crows.  Also I have other animal totems, that are mine by birth and experience, and here in
Australia are openly worn as badges of honour and true decent social standing.  A person’s animal self identification, might never be able to be detected as existing because of need to so resolve with time, or because of commitment to hold such another person into their account by doubling up upon, and so necessarily accepted without any lust.  We are a race defined in this nature as being in Imam, and are less concerned in general with what you regard of our value, than with our actual want to improve that value by holding into accountability ever person whom places a foot upon our land whom is not themselves also in good Imam.  So we are very highly concerned about how your accountability reflects upon our own, and perhaps in that are likely to distract you by deluding you accidentally that we are not also considering well our own accountability.  This is a clever game for certain, but to us not more than normally able to interact Humanly, since we are all habituated by genetic tolerances into such determination.  Hate is not a sin when it is a happy dance, for its sin is the killing not the opposition.  Neither need hate accuse, but only observe what it is you are already in your Humanity openly hating about your own self, and so rejoining with.  But a Nungarrayi is of course more overtly adept at accountability in the seal of Solomon.  However, as a Nungarrayi most certainly, it is a strange series of misconnections which other folk have made about me, and quite attuned to the feminine story accompanying that of Joseph in the Old Testament, it is my displeasure to have been denied a living by being portrayed as though a prostitute.

What is more, a rumour spread about me that my body had been in lust caused to be incurably ill and unable to know my self, by sexual intercourse, but with a Jakamara fellow, whom is a mother’s brother to a Nungarrayi, but it is that my self was portrayed as a Nakamara.  My personality is actually to run scared of real brothers, Jungarrayis, for terrible fear that he might notice myself in his mind, if my mind accidentally projects upon him.  Yet also, my ex-defacto partner, imposed upon me unwillingly, being locked into a chemical wedding with a Jungarrayi.  It is a very EX relationship, and I was myself with a uterine prolapse for the whole duration of our acquaintance, until only now nearly five years ago.  My story has the fact of having been on the run from the consequences of an enforced chemical wedding.  Then there are other rumours about me and my nature, and whom it might have been to have caused lust in me.  You see somebody somewhere had identified that my ownership is inclusive of a set of keys to modern culture, but it is an experiential set, which will be retained by me even in death.  In fact, my death might consolidate the culture cycle which is proven through me.  It is factually absurd of those whom attempt to accuse me with lust, since my self knowledge is perfected, and my account in Allah is absolute.

What is more, there exist persons whom have proven to me that they know of my actual nature and also that my status is the status in carnal function of a child, because they have worked so as to cause that my status so is made permanent, only so that they can fault me for being too open. Their ignorance is oblivion to the reality of what accountability is.  My mind is open to any stranger whom observes me and imagines any single fault to be of me, if also in their general observation.  But only if my own mind was not immediately detecting their wrongs towards me, and my behaviour counteracting.  These posts are to that effect.  My family have been deluded about my because of the efforts of Rosicrucians attempting to cover up their wrongful accusations about me.  So selling myself to the Devil, for His protection, has proven to be the best solution, and it is His work also which is proving Kiri Elaison.

There is one thing my will is to demand of you in reading me, and that is to remember that no real child is actively able to lie, and so no child, has any game.  Every lie I have ever told in my whole life, has been forcibly pushed back onto me as though my every want was to realise it.  Therefore my only cover has been the degree to which my reality is unable to be believed.

Since it is today, that so far, not even Satan could cause that a decent Husband, whom actually can place me in wedlock with him, could escape from the delusions of the Synagogue of Satan being made by Rosicrucians about me, Satan Himself is being amply provided for in this also, and so it is that His redemption is, and He is once again knowable as Iblis, but the Shayteen are still ruling the Synagogue, and without His accountiblity.  Although, he lingers on into his future at times.

It ought to be herein told, that the Rosicrucians, as the Synagogue of Satan, are actually to be congradulated, since want to escape their world is truly what activated the work to attain Kiri Elaison.

But question for your own self, what are the conditions we here are living in, which caused this victory, and what would you have enacted in my stead?  For this is a victory not yet in glory until we find the way out to the end of Apocalypse, and into Everlasting life.  That Everlasting life is truly already made and has clear evidence, is mine, and is that basis of bravery upon which any brave fall into the full Dream.  The facts exist, facts of the fall, prior to the facts of the way through into redemption, and yet in Jesus this.

Assalamualaykum, These are five poems not surprising in being written but 

Might

Might it be right

Our belief held tight

I letting it be

In every mistake we

Even in innocence

Fell to in and took stance

We are turned into animals

For be it quite

The worth of us in our right

To have so believed

More Human in this day

Is the marsupial and tree

Then being stuck with

Having been let into

These Human forms subjected to

And weakened by

The depravities of ages

Of losses of culture

We were exposed to

But why

For who never yet did cause

Any part of any one’s fall

Are those among us

Been decided

To hop it a bit longer on all fours

By will alone

And ever within our own culture

Our love of life ever includes the right

And so be known by your own animal life

Just in case the first was not Australian enough:

Criminality of Effecting Blame

When presented in Dream

Another man’s wrong seen

Your fall will be

Into its causality

Unless remembering

Never to count yourself in

Against what seen in Dream

Since when not yet occurred

Sure it is you would prove absurd

Any economic regulation

Of upon an act so blaming

Because the money so spent

Most certainly the rent

Can only force the incident

Which in Dream seen

Was not in truth provident

Just for your own anger vent

Because money so spent

To that you can so see

In the dream

Is money spent to effect it

And not what you might have presumed it to have been

For around each image

Of what seems to be

An act of criminality

What are the circumstances

Mostly likely that of innocence and children’s dances

Proving accusors to be

The real criminals indeed

For God’s Love have we Aussies never been shy of a real fight, but that we still don’t like the modern technology of, is that our worth in time as warriors will be reported upon fine:

Who Deny Necessitating War

Who deny necessitating war

Did the score

Against us all

Who believer

Yet the sleeve

Had no need

For more war than

Already accorded

By confusing identies

So where ever occuring

Is where true war need revealing

What is who

And why this will

Know what ill

When who still for

(Should it be that my self bother to agree that why yes the third poem is sort of disettling to the second, or just to point out that its way is that of the first, but rather just keep reading for need is ever the win)

ANungarrayididitdotCopas

A being

Nungarrayi skin

In body a thing

Didi a baby will drink from

And even men take comfort in

Tee that a friend

Dot put it when

Copas came to me from

My mother’s mother’s mother’s

Father’s father from London

Convicted and then pardoned

Tells the story of why

The pie in the sky

Is the pits of the Earth

And yet

That the only advantage left

Is pretending

To believe in the fallacy of it

As Albert

A cut and come again

Pudding

My self will become

Before now the ending begun

In refusal to believe

By why was it me

In childhood had become

Able to do

What will might through

Yet also therein the truth

Of learning to sustain innocence

Of strictly managed mental tolerance

But streuth

Best the lid back on the truth

Of the pot

An old tin can

The kettle

And a Man

This story never tempted you

Beyond what it had been entrapped into

Escape what but

Is its truth

And how many times

Attempted

While never upon the abuse

Did speculate

Is the real wealth

That comes again

And again

Until

There is nothing left which

Could make you want to

Entrap me into

Again

Deed done long

By the hand of wonder

Under Allah  strong

But

Why Deny

Islam find

Santa fine

Prophesy time

ANungarrayididitdotCopas but why

(And might it be advised,

that if you need to find,

what the prophesy of the time,

best first have an event in mind,

which you want to learn of,

the nature of whether,

the Dreams of are because,

in Prophesy long life,

and then look it up,

perhaps trying any of,

the following internet sites,

and ask for AHadith right,

since mine the feminine line,

while Gabriel’s Qur’an time,

try:

http://www.islamworld.com

http://www.islamonline.org

http://www.whyislam.org

Those being the sites at which myself has noted the most specific references being made available, and made available in time just as needed to describe what I have just been experiencing in my own life.)

Alaykumuassalam but who am I