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

What that he would for
That great oaf I stood for
To prevent his courting the criminal world
For there because of his own whirls
Within what might have made me poor all the more
Has Mr Grimes not learned to be sorry and sore
By depending upon my worth for
All of his own dreams known
Of any victory in any court room for
That I have done was
Prevent that the father of my children
Might ever be made alike to
Those many time bombs fused
Of people in prison’s abuse
For not I ever could have
Let any inmate at
The providence for
Being father to my children not poor

So when he will take it in that
It is my will he begin don the hat
Of earning money by work to go back
Surely Ms Angus
Not to stingey for that
All of the money in China he had
Was always about some wages bout
Which he claims to refute of
In his own wars because
His is the worth of
Being simply the lazier of us
But of any reason he could find would
He want to refute that
His own worth in his hands labour
Is just not worthy to trade upon

Yet by the fact of what he gave for
To father my children
Might I always have paid him
In self worth of the love therein
But that he has bent that very meaning
By seeking to deny children their own needs when
He refuted and abuse their
True worth in feelings
Might he thus realise no love
Was ever lost between us
No worth had I ever
Been able express to define thus
The reason I ever walked beside him
Yet that has it never
Been for any season but
To approach as close as I dared to
The worst human being with whom
I could enter into an intimate relationship with
For somewhere inside me
Was always the reason being denied by him
That one day somehow and without loss of mind
Will I
The fare of causing child abuse by accusing of kind bind
Into its real consciousness of causation’s silent night
For never has it been my own right
Nor ever did I in any intentional might
Blame or accuse
That he supposed to have used
As his excuse
But rather have I between
These reasons and feeling
Just let it be that
For his hell am I paying
Such that he never will but be staying
The hand in which his own father branded
His own lack of praying
For my children need never learn of
The real derth of his feelings for Earth that
He blinds all and sundry
In lies of great flurry
With the insideously corrupted
Coins of having stolen
The real way through the future to
Real environmental salvaging
So as that the trees can and will
Regrow into forests for
The love between he and I never poor
Yet by whom through he
Was it ever received be
That one day somewhere
The rest of the planet seem to have needed
To stick it to his bum baring glare
Was not my own will to dare

Yet never not believe in me rare
For the will not to deceive is
That by my own mind this
Real tune will the real wish
Of my perfect truth its
Having been told all the while in
The family court’s bind this is

Now catch it if you can
For the excellence never be damned
And if you’ve been trying the plan
Of space travel by vans
And rocket ships that land
On another planet’s worth found
Be it never with manners
That the mars probe has landed
And forever never had a chance in hell or earth to have found
Whatever it is why by my love
Will be that work being held down
Into the ground
By everybody who blames me around
As though married and fluidly current
By prostituting myself for brown money
For higher will the lives
Upon nothing arise
Only to be
Turned to rocks when arrive
Such is the worth of the Earth
Within which all will be heralded not dearth
And of all those of us who here have seen it
The probe upon mars might our spirits have believed in
Is that forever to have loved so behelden
And the planned escapes from
This Earth’s rocky providence
Have ever been of the set up
Against
Yet the worth in our cover up
Was not that of marsupial luck
Since only certain of us
Were ever able that condolence
But
Of the forests
Will every intolerance
To the blinded countenance
Of refusing to keep human mind’s worth real for this ants
Thus of my hands you will dance
Upon insanity’s brands perchance

This poem is not because I blame my family, or because anybody else needs to, or ought to, but because my family needed to be facing their own situation before now; and because I know that these things are not originally my own parents fault, but have sourced real evidence of my parents having been set up to wrongly persecute my own choices, I am able to tell now the real facts, and will ask you not to become tempted to further fault my family, since many are already blaming them far more heavily than what is their own true extend of fault.  They were set up in the 1970’s to my own witness, by Rosicrucians, among whom are those blaming my parents for our Aboriginal-Indigenous Australian genealogy while also seeking to deny us that birth right.  Beware of our rights before reading this poem.  The Australian constituation must be changed to remove the claim that our land has ever been ‘Terra Nullius’. 

Who Would Have Thought

Who would have thought

My mother and father have fought

To be fallen unto naught

By their own game

This the same

Who would have thought

My parents so devious

As to fail to realise

When a child was being honest

Is that I own their shame

Who would have thought

That the reason I own of

The old bones that

Rattled parental thrones is

Because of nobody’s fall my own

Who would have thought

Of my failure to fall

Despite one and every and all

Projecting upon ma

Desperation to hate thee

Who would have thought

It was my father’s own game

To falsify his own fall the same

But then become tricked because

My own false line the better cause

Who would have thought

My father was costing

His own falsifications

Of societies required statuses

Wrongly upon me his daughter longer

Who would have thought

That to falsify lust once

Never had I need to fabricate

For those who tried to bribe my father

Obliged me that grace

Who would have thought

That my mother’s blames of

Her daughter she sold to her husband

Were never able to cause of

What she was holding her own costs against

Who would have thought

My own will to never

Let badly matched coupling win

The game of my father’s

Would have left me so stranded

Who would have thought

They did their level best to

Impose upon me the reality they sought

But have failed to and rather

Falsified for me my way into the game of my father

Who would have thought

Might have been Dad

But that

His wife imagined to have had him at

Since she fell into the mirk of false reputations staked upon this grace bidden rest

Who would have thought

Mrs. Catherine E. Marker nee Caling

Might have failed the test

Of what upon her at Dad’s behest

Was the forgiveness forever request

Who would have thought

That everybody in one family

Would manifest such great idiocy

As to fail to see

What protects my children is yet today me

Who would have thought

That those whom have risked all we earned

Are stationed in governmental positions

And hoping beyond hope

To prove their own joke is their yoke

Who would have thought

That unless there is provided real evidence to court

The solutions being founded will prove ungrounded

And a father’s dreams of his wife nevermore blamed

Might prove to be that the whole story is fallen into causing

Who would have thought

That they all care less for the safety of children

Than to have one sinning story more blaming somebody’s mother

And when we’ve all finished proving it ain’t my own Mum

There was nobody left to save me my own children’s Mum

Who would have thought

The victory longer done by

The children now running too dry

Who realised before now the score be

Best kept close and silent with me

Who would have thought

That the easiest game to play

Be feigning incompetence

While sustaining good conscience

Who would have thought

Who would have thought

That the simple request of a son

To go easy on his mother at that time of the month

Could have been misconstrued into

A fabrication of his mother being the worst kind of monster

Who would have thought

That such innocence being blamed was

No problem for the parents of the same

Uninvolved as they have been

But for the lies between

Who would have thought

Who would have thought

Rosicrucians did try to have caught

Our birth right as their own plight

By imposing conditions in which

My ancestors were not recorded on paper are those indigenous

Who would have thought

Rosicrucians so frightened of why

Aboriginal land rights to provide

Enables Aboriginal cultural rights

Who would have thought

Count But

I have a way

To count all day

Or is it that

The night now rather way

The way of my mind

Forever in time

Is to consider every cause

The precedent

Of every consequence yet

But to account for myself

As so evil as if

Alike to what if

Which was because of

That it

That those effects had a future

I hope is well ending

Are when now effected

By the past directed

The deeds in my command

So get it that terror is banned

Through being acknowledged and fanned

Minded and winded

And in love real bind

Will it be real

To rather

Account for your self

By which ever direction in time

Your mind finds the larger

Fear of the find

Yet while taking the precaution

Of never being certain

That when open wide

Be truth’s curtain

Never caught short of

The cost of

To Dream is

No loss with

While cause follows precedent

Is that before accounts for ever after effect

So better than to mistake a count

Just do not

Know but

That does it show

I must

Not yet

Nor once stuff it up

And so account

For an animal self

Mine also

And life to bind

Just in case in time

Our future might find

While those without faith

Who’ve imagined the past into their future

As though they’d cause it be happier

Seek to force me into their mind

And theirs into mine

Well just in case

That had been taking place

Why I’ll account for that also

As mine

And therefore be fine

For Who Might Need To Know It Is So

I thing about

What might happen around

The knowledge I spread to the sound

Of who needs to know

What this is I have found

Is that those whom stole of

The want to know

Without equitable work to show

Are who never quite grasp

What exactly it is that they know

But that is just so

Since the other hand is finer in flow

By like I knowing to just let it go

That quality of knowledge

Pouring in need not soiling

But just continue on in

The flow of time

Of work to know

And want only to work

For the extra we give

For free in

The work is

The measure of

How well we are earning

And for Holier

As well as to show

Which will ever be

The first fence to go

Since in time

The message of

Every lesson fine

Is this only

That who learns well it

The lesson of time

Might learn also

Not to fear why knowledge

Cannot always be mine

But by that I can let go

And so know

Truth falls fine and perfect

Only upon

Who works for it

Who earned of and paid for

And who needed to know of

Will be who is next to let go

Without fear of not knowing

While who hangs on too tight

Might only ever hang onto

The worst things alright

And we’ve all got some of that roe

Best left to who works it

For everything is for someone to know

The Cards Were Falling

The cards have been sorted

Into suits shorted

By spills of water

Upon the bench they rested

In suit sequences

Left with me by a family

Showing many signs of

Illnesses of dietary abuses

Being forced upon women and men

Within Australia’s prisons

And showed clearly much fear of

Their own skills as cooks

Almost entirely unable

To prepare any meal for a table

Most especially not

When in view of

Anybody in knowledge of

How in prison the cooking is shoved

Upon who receives it named a privilege

To become abused into imposing upon

The rest of the prisons population

Psychological abuses

By what food who has got

And who imagined what while

Preparing of

And these cards I have got

Read for such love is of

Eight of hearts

Then seven King nine

Three then the Ace

Four next whose disgrace

Then the Queen’s face

Heart’s Jack is next

Then five six two ten

While in spades

It all starts with the King

Then five six ten Queen

Jack three nine two

Seven eight six Ace

Diamonds in red

Have seven to begin with

The Queen nine ten

Six three five two Jack

Four King eight Ace

Clubs again start with King

Ten Jack Queen nine eight

Five Ace two three seven

Four six is it

This the reading of what

Was left behind by accident

When it happened that

A mixed race family

Of former prison inmates had

Stayed a few weeks at

My place

And of the food they left with me

The meat more porky

But many the beef pies

And vegetables the solanum family

Of capsicum tomato and potatoes

All alike in blood to tobacco

Pumpkin and cucumber

Eggplant and zucchini

Those foods which grow too easily

So long as the water supply

Is not too teasy

Yet what else was left behind

Was a gingerbread house of my own kind

Given twice to their child

By two trips to the charities

Yet he afraid to eat mild

For being blamed of its style

Of white icing supply

For preference had he

To a chocolate addiction

At five

Already telling me

That the work belonging to he

Is to let the bad guys

Blame he

For by his own life

Will their ends be strife

The Story

I have a friend

Whose been making herself

Into a story

Of forgiving the world

Of having exposed all our children

To drug using

While me

I have been forgiving

The world of D.V.

And have these things been

In exposure to children

Prevented between

She and me

A black Maori

And white Aborigine

Both working to ensure of

The safety for children

In having had our own skills of providing for

Denied too long to

Care for the fears of how long the cost is

Since the cost of such separation

Between mother and child

Might best be never defined

Without exceptional pride

For our stories are turning out just right

With the structure internal

To the human mind

Being turned inside out to

Prove why

None ever again need might

Any want to so expose their own child

To furnish with why

The food is so caught in this bind

Thanking eternal

These child

Have we also now to eat here

Fish chilli and rice

Coconut and peanuts

Vegetarian feeds and

Coffee vans for the homeless

And the lettuce is alright

Brassica alike

But let which in whose story

Never unfold its device

Neither stinging bite

For the chocolate milk be for

You and me to

Depend upon for sanity

When nobody else around be

Believing in being alive without

A poison to find

We can all be blamed alike

For whatever anybody likes

So long as we are who never

Upon blaming thrives

For the Ants in their way have

Made their day that

These stories are theirs before even

Becoming our own to have walked and flown

Of lives lived fully known              

The Gap

What gap is that

The politicians are at

That they wanted closing

Of to become their fact

As though all the efforts

To attain equal distribution

Of society’s tax resources

Belong to who’s voted in

Rather than who worked to gain

Equal health and education

So politicians better watch out

To find what gap closing

Is really all about

When the gap is between

Aboriginal and other Australians

Perhaps the real gap is in notions

Of what stories to sustain

For real cultural gain

So listen well

For the gap keeps on closing

No matter what anybody is supposing

Closing in on our heads

As we approach its widening jaw

For all gaps are never

At the seams of what life is for

And the real gap is between

The rich and the poor

To own a real story

So find which one is it

Your own love is for

While those politicians have imagined

Perhaps we Aborigines know a door

Between stories worth telling

And hateful blood and gore

But is it necessary

In invasion’s defiance too poor

To let in all the invader’s

Fears about having invaded us

And what they have caused

By promoting escape artist’s store

As the real story for

Closing the gap

That just has to happen

All of us know well will be sure

The Unknown Poem

This is the story

Of things unknown

Of life not flown

Yet but neither thrown

Of somebody’s girlfriend

And her other friend

And then the other bloke who

Is best never to know of

And how they might be connected

To a recent death

Of somebody named after

What they sold by ripping off the best

That is unless always mistaken

Is that this nest was not yet baked on

And of the processing of recycling

There’s a story not poor but frightening

For who waited around for

And drove down to town for

Is receiving exactly their share of

What is nobody’s retribution

But that of honest reputations

Disarmed by strange allegations

In this situation

Not caused so by

The ripping off of

This the Aboriginal culture

Behind this nation

Of every great Australian

At Batchelor Aboriginal Institute

What joy to experience

No need regard in the class

Of being its only intelligence

For at this institute is

Intelligence with all of us

By being Aboriginal indigenous

While in other tertiary institutes

We are the real brains

Enrolled in the course

Engaged in the discourse

And other students lean on us

Without recognition of what

Proving the standards too poor

Of that in the mainstream taught

Tertiary educated

Other sorts of Australians

And all of the schools

Without traditional orientation

In the streams of two way education

Might the worth of the world

Be passing by in the swirls

With factors of faith in

Most social institutions

Delivery of schooling

Having been in relations

Their own pens disproving

Yet with Northern Territory’s

Land ownership base

Enabling difference in Batchelor’s case

No such thing can be said of

This institute’s acceptance of grace

The Aboriginal Institute

Begun at Batchelor

Proving we Aborigines

To be who is causing

The best schooling standards

Across the whole place

Now named Australia

What a clever country

This place ours safe

Word Strings

Word string meaning

Intention best believed in

For if you try to read in

Any other meaning

Who strung those words will have one day heard

And theirs to write again

The way that digs you in

Down under done

By what you own win won

Accidentally Language

Accidental ignorance

Of English grammar nonsense

Ain’t what Aboriginal use of

English word string sets is

By clear mastery

Of word uses

To place English words in

To Aboriginal standards

Unlike those in England

Yet no less than perfect

No less than resilient

No less than academic

Where the academy is

Real language indigenous

So when by accident

Aboriginal English

Manifests real language

Let land be blessed

Retrieval

What happened then

Can you remember

What will to you now

Real memory bring

Which sort of Dreaming

Was it life through believed in

Then when

Only your self might have forgotten

While your Spirit live strong in

That put you under my friend

But nothing you done

Is how you won

For when not that you want

Neither willing truth of

Your family birth and conscience

But of who abused culture

And how it connects

Perhaps by hot air held bare

In photo like frames less rare

That we wish such of the future to bear

Thus remember no more than your share

Whose act was it to know then

That stuck onto the dreams of your own

Causing memory yet unknown

To need retrieving

For who in were you always

Truthfully believing

Whom were you always affirming

To whose tomorrow will fear be boring

And to whom really belongs your

Real true life

Very own

To have and belong truly known

Dreaming

Is forever your own self to believe in

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

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 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.

The Paste Up

What is the meaning of this

Random poetry

Made into Art that bleeds

Posted all over public property

Unless

Less random than need

And demanding of reality of belief

Such that the words

By analysis

Of feeling

Might read

Can you please try to

Define this

As a real Human feat

Of effort to be sure of

What the real fact to the matter is

In what the words are describing to be of

Since

The whole matter

Of the meaning

Of randomised posted up poetry seeming

To bizarre to be believed in

Yet trade marked for real that

The reality of its obvious

Narrative

Is will you please help me

Since your interference in a process

Disturbed its balance

Providing to me

Yourself as accomplice

To what is hurting me

So

Perhaps that

Might be

Why my poems are harder to read

Than those which tell nothing and nobody need