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

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

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.

By Psychic Capacity 

One day

My oldest son asked me

Are we psychic

Meaning

Can we communicate

With one another

In mind

And I had to deny

Since his company at the time

Was a drug users son

And they both were too young

But some few years later

I explained myself more properly

For the development of

His own mental body

That his psychic capacity

Be only his own property

His mental defences

Needed this certainty

Why of cause every son is

Psychically able

To detect what might be

On the mind of his father

While a mother is also in deed

By her different psychic capacity

Usually able

To detect her children’s need

But

I advised

It just ain’t with reason

For a son to tune in on

His mother’s mind

So naturally be not inclined

To be psychic to me

But then one day at the movies

I realised

My work which belongs

Collectively

In our shared Aboriginal Dreamtime

Accessible to who ever will it this believe

With Allah’s will in our deeds

My son is probably able

And at the stage and age He well should need

That he could be

Tuning in with me

While writing this poetry

So son

To belong

Know your mind is connected to me

But in your receiving of word unheard

Never directly

That you might find me

In the minds of

Many of your friends who believe

And the good men who read

So when you are able

What might be on your own table

Is to add the dance in you

To my poetry

If it please you

By remembering yourself

Perfectly

And only letting go up

Into the Dreamtime of the public mind

From long time

Your posture when unfaultable in me

From your own willing deed

  Food Tricks 

Three sorts of food tricks

Were put into my subconscious

By those who counted their own faults

To be able to blame upon my eating

That in Ramadan while fasting

Is it that I can realise

Greed in law reading

Was done to us

That worse will not become of us

For when I first eat after dark and prayer

Is it that my mind experiences

Being blamed for food consuming

As though in greed

While after having eaten

Enough already

Is it that they blame me

For the fasting being insanity

Thus eat with me

In certainty

Of greed will we surely be

Far happier if greed is for

Reading Qur’an becoming Kabbalah

The first trick was in false choice between

Being wrong by overeating

And being wrong by sexually determined behaviour

As though each were able

Prevent the other

Then also has been

A trick in between

Company and being lonely

As though eating the only

Way not to be lonely

Rounding out in a third

Trick quite absurd

Of being blamed for

Over spending

Of money upon

Food

But before I had spent

Thus causal to

Such that I never have I

Bought food this while

Without being faulted

As though I

Do every consumerist

Over consumption

Of capitalism

Whenever I eat

Thus must it be

That the wrong mind caused in me

By tricks aplenty

Whenever I fall into

Actualising over eating

Which is more than how much can you realise

The Jews lived of in Exodus

And Jesus feed a multitude of bread and fishes

So what will become

Of thought to be wrong

In every mouthful

I have consumed

Bar those few not stripped bare for the moon

Leaving me wanting for food

As though righteously never rude

Every day

In another small way

Impossible to be

Is a difficult story

Yet that I win

By believing in

My accountability that is

What in Allah I fall in

Not so to do

But so I pay that I have had to

Influence the lies

Of tricks in mind

So that in the world

Will my children survive

Thereby

Remember of me

Why this be

That such as these tricks three

Could be forced upon me

While yet a child all three cognised

Was only

That money

Was spent

To feed me

So please let

Me feed my children again

From my own vegetable garden

For eventually

Human survival

Can only realise

The need

For sustainable backyard ecology

By this key of three

Will you thus also remember me

This message since

My own life is

Not the only so effected

By food tricks

So best we let

Our self assured set

Of certainties

In ecology

Be shared by everybody

Since if just only

Tricks one and three

Maybe my garden

Would be nicer

For only the birds and bees

But since I am already a mother

If you please

Share with me

The story of

Need for self sustaining urban ecology

This Ramadan to feed

  Practical Cognoscentes of Reason within Conscience 

Within practical reason

My Dad said

After I turned on its head

His statement as though plain fact

We can do anything we like and that is that

Was referring to he and my mother

In a car driving for each other

While me

On public transport be

Well you can’t drive to the moon can you Dad?

I said

The true word of that what is that

But rather than repeat himself at

Anything we like

As anything within reason

He made his own sense in telling

Within practical reason

But my mind ticks over

About this line

What means he by practical

Wondered I

All the while trusting

For want of certainty

That Dad’s use of the word

Is ever well minded

Of specifically intended

Literal meaning

But to be practical

We need

Bear in mind

That there exist too many folk of the kind

For whom to tell that a fact is practical

Can cause imagination of the face as though not real

For it is only in practise to be realised

And not yet performable as reality

Apparently

Yet reason still be

And I see in the dictionary

From Oxford at four

Practical could be virtual

So never any more

Yet while Dad’s mind

Instructs to the feasible meaning at five

Which suits me just fine

Since dinner at four

During Ramadan

Leaves too long a lead in on

Potential arguing

Between me and my Mum

So to be practical

In reason

Since last season

Arguing between us

Became disproven in efficaciousness

Anything my Mum and Dad like

Will not be

What I myself could not find

The way to like

If they wish to meet with me

For I have cognised

Many a time

When anything my parents like

Is as far removed from practical

As is practicable

By any idiot who wants to like

I become left alone wondering

Why

The word practically

Has been so underlined

By uses as though to deny

Its real meaning

Of as it can be

Practised

The possible be

So should I just let Dad believe

That whatever is possible

In his choice practically

Or should I persevere

In preventing him from speech as though

Choosing as we like

Is only our choice in reason

When practical facts

Are miss-cognised

Perhaps it is time

He learn that in Islam

Will survive

For will feeling the time

  That what they be in me 

But

I tried to explain

Myself in my mind

As to my Dad

When you realise

What every bit is

Of money

Then

Well you realise

There is no such thing

As money not causing

What of them you accuse them with

At which

They

Piped up in my head

With

“They’ve got her there”

As though my mother addressing my father

Yet not of her fayre

That whoever they are

My self can find

To be causing some tricks in time

Which I draw upon me

Since in Allah their ant bites can not hurt the true me

While I am certain

Of what nature of pestilence they be

The water can absorb of

Their words in me

They are refuting what it is they

Truthfully believe in

By feigning to believe alike to me

And can acknowledge

They find no way out of

Having did

Yet that they have not I

This with

Those whom want of their own self

To be

Not able to believe

In reality

Who are not me

Yet assert in life frequently

Such that in my memories

Will my mind associate to their kind

Every only correctly

Do they not realise

Who ever they were this time

Not my parents other daughter

But a Maria through her

Enabled through the old paternal grimes

Was using my parents memories

That to deny

Their own self

Is expensive indeed

And caught ever time

Through me if awake to the outside world in mind

For I see not in mind

And rarely of Dreams

By in life

The consequentiality

And when

There is food for their kind

On shoes

Ever to remind

There is no rewind

Of the footsteps fallen

That be

  My Mental Self  

They portrayed me

Making a mental fool of my self

That I made a mental poo of your tell

About their mental shoes on an elf

There was no mental too upon whose shelf

  Natural Will Willing Nature is not who Allah 

To remember

We ourselves

Are not Allah

To align within

Today’s teaching

Allah is not nature

We must first remember

We ourselves

Are not autonomous from nature

So be who you are

Within accepting

Your own Human will is

To ensure all nature

Around you

The natural world that is

Abiding within

The will of Allah

Far better than can

People without will to

Believe in their own self through

So swallow the lot

Of your own kind of job

For if we Pray to fall

Only as Allah will we all

Then can our own will

In his continue

  My Indigenous Ummah Will Islam When 

Once among us arrived

The Mujahideen

And tried

To persuade us all and unseen

To with their own way abide

Many did in time

By realising we want the full story

Truth told of Qur’an not boring

And with us already aligned

But many were not ready

To make any sacrifice

To a new group of folk who

Had not yet accepted our own full knowledge

So secretly adopted

New law in mind

Yet all the while

Refraining from pronouncing

Shahada

That is until

As was our will

We found it inevitable

By having proved what caused the ill

We perceived was

Such a longing need

For the cover of

Self righteousness as clothing

Was always the frame of our bone with

Yet when we begin to have

That we know we always had

But now becoming our own

Full bodily five senses evidence

That

We knew for certain

Why Islam is

For us to learn way how get

What was being

Off us ripped

By our own selves

Fallen to imagining

As though belief is

We were not already Muslim

While this certain finding

Is ours because

First through the fire now

Awake among us have the few already passed

That our will be certain

Of teaching in Islam

The pond has

Many more discreet ways

Than only our marsupial dance craze

So to our people true

Always loyal to our own way

We are never who will tell you

Not to

Take your self that hard

As to find what discretion of waters

Be yours

But

Will is found to

Take life that hard along with you

For in Islam is reason

This to do

That by conscience will we for you

An Aborigine will be

What we ever make of you

By your foots falling upon

This ground become

The Earth to which

You now belong

  Watercress Salad the Best 

Sweet aroma

Stick-ly flavour

Sickened mind

To their favour

A watercress salad

In payment

Will it be a date then

No thanks for when

The Buckwheat

Broccoli

Miso and tahini

Had my mind

There were linseeds

In my Dreams

Sealing the seams

For would pomegranite

And Kangaroo stew

Make what did you do

Was nothing but

Forward into much

For such

Is luck to

Me

At some point

In my life

I surmise

Of here today

The story of its worth

Will begin to be seen to exist

In its real pre-destined grave

Of more than so far what seems made

Of a bizarre sequence

Of strange interactions

With Arabs

Aborigines darker than me

Two parents who missed the boat on me

And a field of disgusting nightly

Dream mind enquiries

As to how most easily

Rip off all the rest

Of my own work effort consequences

Will they ever thus let

Their minds accept that my best

Is in strong will they never counted upon

To cause every account

Beholden to Allah belong

Be today sung strong

And Love perfectly long

In King Solomon’s song

For the truth was never wrong

Bracelet  

Did the secret begin

Way too soon for the sin

Of denying reality

Has become of those who in secrecy

Were portraying the revelation of reality

As though offering the self to a murdering

Sort of criminality

When the gold bracelet’s worth

Was stolen

And to be taken seriously

Its owner has noted

To the thief

That there seems to be a lodge of interest in this

In which the Masonry

Depicted in a small gold ornament

Seems to have forgot about its secrecy

Being that binding the world that is occult driven dealt

To Ka’ba in eternity

And thereby did Masons forget

That in Islam is Christ meant

While that secret has no need

When ever the criminal is seen

(for serious Muslim enquiry about the actual bracelet, try also the weblog at http://anungarrayididitdotcopas.blogsource.com : should my motivation be focussed upon re-aquiring the gold that was stolen, or upon using the bracelet as it is now for evidence?  The silversmith’s son expressed the preference for putting the removed gold upon a new bracelet, which I might purchase, alongside a few new ornaments, but leaving the other bracelet as they have ordered the ornaments upon it, such that the two bracelets might seem alike to being representative still of their shirk upon me.  What is the correct way to regard the situation to your own mind in Islam? And what not? )