A:Nungarrayi=one of me:didi=irish for tit:tdot=I don't know but:Copas=my mothers mothers maiden name » Uncategorized

Cultural Anomole or Prank of Culture? Aboriginal Australians and what often seems to be our over exposure.

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 07:27:56 +0000

There is following something I wrote for a North American based yahoo user group, which focusses on applying theology to science and integrating theology with astrology:

I have been writing recently about why it is that Australian Aboriginal culture sustains an overt teaching for the external self expression, about the human types and archetypes, in which we can learn to know ourself by following the right story.

Most cultures, and indeed most mainstream religious contexts, keep the knowledge of which archetype is each individuals real story, a secret. I is a secret which each individual needs to find for themself so as to validate it.

What does not happen in Aboriginal culture, is for any person to be told exactly which story is their own real perfect archetype. Yet each person is given a name at birth which correlates their whole living situation into the set of sisters or brothers whom also all have the same name, and whom ideally, if every marriage has been made perfectly according to kinship rules and laws, will be the all the same archetype.

Sometimes it happens that a person just naturally notices very young what their own story is. In other instances people live their whole life according only to that story which is being socially provided them, if they are not born adjusted into the right archetype because of their parents marriage variety. Aboriginal culture is much more restrictive than most cultures in respect of what forms of marriage are enabled. Either it is perfect, or to a person whose archetype belongs to a grandparent’s generation. There is no intermarriage of persons of the same archetype ever allowed, and any instances of such are ostracised from culture altogether. In remote hunter gatherer cultures, that ostracism basically amounts to the individuals concerned being left to die in one another’s company. Also, in some tribes, but not all, marriage between a son-in-law and mother-in-law, or between the archetypes in which that relationship ideally occurs, is also forbidden and carries a death penalty. Sort of like a mercy killing, but that is among the communities who rely on the desert environment, while where there is more water, that form of social relationship is recognised, but always recognised as rape. The severity of social sanctions for marital relations and all intimate relations, is the necessary accompaniment to enabling that even children are able to form open mental associations with the stories of ancestors (like cult and/or lodge stories) in which their own life is taking shape.

There is one other aspect of our indigenous culture which enables this. It is that all our lodges, or patrilineal clans, as well as the matrilineal kinship name given at birth which is more akin to a cult identification, have animal totems, and in the ancestral and religious traditions, it is believed that even the most honourable figures and holiest men, manifested a transformation into an animal form. The basic belief is that if even one person in any community, enacts even one criminal behaviour, then that act effects the possibilities of the future for every other person in that community, and so every person accepts some small portion of the culpability, equitable with the extent to which they could not help but notice the consequences of crime.

What eventually socially manifests is a conscious conviction of belief that every one among us is wrong to be letting any criminal get away with crime. There is no viable method of sustaining a healthy culture without causing it to be isolated fully from every other culture, which is perhaps why Australia is as it is, in that our culture was socially isolated from the rest of the planet for many thousands of years, even giving rise to a whole array of new species. The arising of marsipials and eucalypts is believed to have been caused by the fact of the best and most innocent Souls coming to rest within the form of flora and fauna. In fact, our native flora and fauna is unique in its capacity to live in extremely arid regions, and particularly with a high level of salt in the subterranean water table. Also the eucalyptus family is very neatly discriminatory as to which plant typically corresponds to which archetype of human association.

This week, on Wednesday at 8.55 am Australian eastern standard time, the new Labor Prime Minister is going to be making an apology for the past government policies existing between 1901 and 1967, in which all children known to be of the Aboriginal race were made wards of the state.

It is about time. Many of those whom were removed from their mothers are among the best and brightest of the Australian intelligensia, and many other of the most intelligent among Australians are of mixed racial blood and have grown up in families who feigned having no Aboriginal ancestry in order to protect our children. Notably also the British sent here the best adept of their convicts, yet thus it is that our indigenous culture has predominantly been able to relate to the invading culture through the criminal world, since I can not say the same for the figures of authority whom were also sent to Australia. Perhaps it is fortuatous for the British that they invaded a country in which our Animist belief is so very inculcated into the pattern of detecting and exposing criminality.

In these few days before the new Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, provides an active statement of apology, in saying sorry, it seems appropriate to be attending also to the fact that the Australian constitution still awards the land the status of having been Terra Nullius in 1788. That legally defines Australian territory as having had no human inhabitants prior to 1788. In 1988 prior ownership of Australian territory was however acknowledged. Does this mean that Aboriginal Australians today are still not being awarded basic human rights? The answer in general is yes, and that also that status is embodied in the nuances of various aspects of contemporary and recently formed legislation.

What the statement of sorry is all about, needs to be regarded as an apology for having branded our Animist faith as tantamount to being unable to provide safety within which children can grown up into a human outlook upon their adulthood.

Our culture is such that we can not really fault anybody for blaming us about our animal identifications, we can merely assert that not every animal identification is caused by criminal behaviour, and so it is overtly wrong to perpetrate the psychological abuse of projecting upon us any imaginative concepts of what sort of behaviour has caused us to identify with the flora and fauna. That we are an honest and hardworking culture, race, and ethnicity, by nature, is proven in the strength of many aspects of today’s modern Australian culture, and the worth of our scientists and our environmentalists, our school teachers and nurses, and our family and social stability patterns generally.

Today I want to say thankyou to every person anywhere whom has joined with any of the prayers around the world which are enabling of this statement of sorry from the Prime Minister of Australia, to all individuals whose lives have been immediately detrimentally effected by Australian Government policies in respect of the removal of Aboriginal children from family safety and integrity.

Within that thanks, I want to add for the American context, a thanks to all those whom have taken up the ropes of finding the way through science to begin to have amassed the scientific data within which using Kinship regulation by name, as a basis for culture, will one day be proven. Particularly in the fields of immuno-genetics and cognative neuorolgy, and in the hope and faith that one day those efforts will be combined, and be able to provide scientific backing for what is essentially a strong surviving cultural embodiment of forgiveness, in which Jesus example is never lost.

Rivaq Copas nungarrayi

Unsavoury Detail That Became Needing Acknowledgement

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 06:52:36 +0000

Made Plain

It seems to be

That the Japanese

Were lead astray about me

For what I had offered

Of Aboriginal Geisha type knowledge

Was supposed before I had time

To fully furnish the knowledge on offer

And was accepted as

The falsifications we made

Of analgesics to blame

For in which to protect my name

From those whom sought thus to lame

The rebel lion thus made

Of their own fame

Without real base

Their own insanity their shame

So what will it be

That you have the image of me

When with Chris or is it

A Mark who is he

That bound to the fact

Made me Babylon in pact

Or rather to see

Me with who will he yet be

Is unknown to me

But of offers are three

Not yet taken so will we

And of those yet to be

So trialled how many

Between now and the sweet

Truth that Mark Spencer’s fruit

Chris Smart to fart

The beast covered in these words will

His own start

Between the police

And the child pornographer

They sent to follow

And attempt to seduce me

Of course in permanence unsuccessfully

Yet but that police presumptions be

Causal to their own demise we see

For that they have caught but let away with real criminality

In exchange for a few small girls he entraps is

The status of police work to date

In untangling the face

Of Gold Coast brothel and pornography industry

But When Written

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 06:50:28 +0000

When you write down

Why you are bringing to ground

That will materialise

In reality to realise

What not true and righteous

Belongs to diseases

Yours if nobody reads it

Not even in dreaming

Yet if real

Even when unread

Of reality instead

And then when unread

Might those who supposed

The written words lie

Never find out why

The Earth’s density condenses

In weightier matter

Literally solidifying

By writing

Thus Arc of Covenant

Is blessed in the opposite

But not for want of trying

While an arc of profanity

Truly less disparity

In which case

As it is at its best

That edits out

Edits down roundabout

And unto the ground wed

By the heaviest elements

Is what the written word is about

When any real meaning abounding by blessed

By diaspora’s test

The cause of children’s protection behest

But of course

It is also the truth

On the smaller scale of

The world in another value made real

That many can write

So as and despite

To prevent of the past that was

Now long gone because

We none of us wanted

To contaminate future’s thus bonded

At least not enough of us would that

To let such be real again as

Has been even if only in the dream

Of sloth not awakening

Impinging upon the dreamtime not wrong

Of the way out from sleep through its way not cheap

We will cause the ending of any harm done to children

That to remember I am

When I write with this pen

Remember a girl’s truth

Shines blame the past’s roof

Dismantling the fear that was

Have written words had always good cause

So take care what you write

For the truth takes its bite

And lies the worst force

Upon your own health the author

Consider direct the proportions

Of time wise decisions to write

While of editorial right

Be choice despite

Just another poem

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 04:33:54 +0000

Tricked Reputation

There might be some way

To let the real story fey

Of mr grimes real reputation

He and many conspired to have

Hidden from the court that

Brand naught but who needs of

Is that no shelter can stay

Within his nether reputation

And that this story’s repercussion

Is his own situational problem

While the reality of reputations

In this has tricked a whole nation

Tricked by the hypnosis

Of Rowing on Roe “E’s”

Has been the notion

Of what to do with these

Poems in motion

Don’t you forget

To wreck

The breeze yet

For that which mr grimes blessed

Be not what you bet

Thus through Rohan a tease

Of the story please

Therefore best be blessed

With the slow pokes best on

That she won’t ever forget

Is a nest best

Of the next best

But whatever mr grimes prevents of

Be that not needed of yet upon

Is how his definition

Became at the

Queen’s behest

Of offloading mistakes upon

Australian children

Thus proven

But three son’s my own

Best efforts known

This poem naught before

Those sick heads did cause

That they Queen took of

The Irish Satanists cause

Instead of the true story

For reconciling

With Britain less poorly

In debts owing for me

Whoever my truth be

Is that through this story

The twelfth whoever he is be

Able not poorly

And set up far to surely

By the mr grimes unruly

Reputation mask falling

Upon those “e’s”

Of rowing’s please

Collect the best yet

Among stories on breeze

So long as the behest of

Is the Queen’s

While that being dumped upon

The downtime from

Be what of his fees

For selling this on

Against my reality be

Thus know you not

The story belongs

Not poorly but

Through what show because

Has one only the pull upon

And not me but from

He who will and who has

Married the right girl his own that

This poem might not need be known

For only is it his to own

The worth in its words

Thus scuttled from that your mind heard

Since reality

Is bound by being indebted to he

Whose worth is the work

Of having overcome the difficult sum

Of what mr grimes attempted

Prevent of

But thus failed bar his own gun

Who holds this true best unto me

Has upon the real force of the law within be

BABYLON’S SONG

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Tue, 20 May 2008 00:43:28 +0000

The Count In Me

Well of course

But the case may be

We’ve always had

Another mechanism than that you see

For in measure of accountability

One without relying upon

How we appear to be

More than is real to belong

And more than you no not wrong

Thus yet

Not even in words be

This reality

Confounded by mistakes upon why

Real accountability

Is as it is no bind

Unable to find

No tear unable to cry

No life left too dry

Will that you my

Way to rely

Upon this count made high

For to fear with its style

Of facing in reputations try

That you might land of by

Having wrongly assumed of

That exact in another was

As reason to accuse and blame of

Being your own behaviour

Only imagined excused upon

Was never no way to escape

The real retribution of fate

Being no less upon

What we’ve all dreamed well and long

With that to the end of

And yet but belong

Be it far from

Real meaning to go wrong

When words and appearance

But minor facts of clearance

Two Bob

Tell me

After I win

What was meant to begin

And which win at trial

Was then when you sang

After a while

Need I

Excavate the style

Of Bob being some uncle

Who’s failed

But smiles

Since for all he has failed

Nobody believes in

His win

This being in

Among and belonging

Of the strongest song running

Might the way of the first

Prove ever no worse

But that he heard of

The win of the forth

Through doors opened kindly

But by none too wisely

When all doors were mine and

Of he whose light shines at

The end of the tunnel

That points us to life when

Our keys are well read

Our locks greased and oiled

And nobody able to spoil

The worth of our toil

This win will be his when

Young Bob proves his bread

With this on his head

Babylon’s Society

It is my sanity to know

Whatever they’ve done was too slow

For faster I am

That what they can

Prevent me from having known

So while ever they have

Defined me lacking savvy

As with a real disability

All they did was a cover song

Within which I thrive strong

While a drug user they’ve called me

Why it’s nothing but their own envy

Of what they truly know really

That my strength defies their certainty

For as strong as I am is that curtain at

And of the prostitute they accused that

Might my behaviour belie the real fact

For they’ll never deny what they did to me

Of forcing me into her story

This but a taste of Babylon’s glory

It’ll all work out without their knowledge

If only I am let live on in poverty

But who are they I refer to that

This poetry is my real fact

Be no other than the most bizarre story

Of Canberra Gurdjieff Society fat

Might it ever be in real glory

Babylon’s own true society

Is in Spencer-Smart’s aftermath ever lonely

And there never was no crime in that

But

Being like

This is a

Set up

(but)

One city

One structure

One wart on the brain

No shame

Money’s game

Of my fame

To the lame

Not whose blame

This tame

One same

Story plain

And any terrain

Firm brained

Sand but

Shell’s fact

Is this that

Glass had

Clay at

But wood re-grows

No loss to those

Whose lives haven’t known

This day way shown

neither too good nor timely but rhyming

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Thu, 01 May 2008 02:51:49 +0000

Knew

Who knew

That you

Might not have wanted to do

Or what

It was

That you

In Darra because

The Vietnam Veterans

Took Robbing the hood

Quite literally no consequences

Through being possessed

Of that no victory matched yet

Being neither aligned

To know in true time

That twas their vet

That got

From and of

Siding aligned

With East Asian Buddhists bind

Is how any of that police protection was defined

If only and ever

Not through actual criminals who police you

From among the Queensland police but unto

The saving of those

Veterans who know

Was that its not their own to have sewn

But tiler’s who done their tome

Such it was that they knew

Their own protection had been through

Some old organized crime

Which by East Asian immigration aligns

Into fielding that protection well timed

For sure as eggs can be weighted by the feather

It was never

Veterans in police forces who knew

But that one small time

Charlotte’s mind

Had in her bind

How Vietnamese are too kind

Be it not yours to find

What filth with provides

In the pig bond on high

Neither this by

But knew never why

Name Poem Same

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 01:25:59 +0000

Just because I changed my name

Need not make me less the same

Yet differently known by name

Is naught but of social fame

For I am still my parent’s daughter

Still nobody’s lamb to the slaughter

Still mother to my son’s naughtier

Made by their father’s dangerous games

Is nobody likely to blame

My sons naught ill defined in name

For the bind of mine takes the cake

And in Heaven will Djinn have been awake

Child’s Play

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 02:34:55 +0000

That the

North (west) European

Buddhist

Israeli via African

Trilogy

Of culture theived

Glass giraffes predicated upon

A picnic by comparison

To that we Aborigines

Thrive upon

So in between

Walks in the park

And pissing in the windy dark

Learn from me

Why this lesson about Chris be

That our win known through him

Even by babies

While the real deal

Has been founded and floored

Before Smart knew what he implored

To steal of

That named to Mark Spencer falsely

Age over estimated for

The date of the month lied his punch

Deprived us of naught but

His own belief in us

Who ever it is that we are

You’ll learn well of us to go far

Yet ever not know us

For this win is our thing of us

Needing no food equipment store

No viagra pills such as Chris wore

No confederated bands playing the score

Of gone too long shopping making the poor

So just bear in upon my win

To see no surprise within my eyes

At any of your

While I open up every door

Since the key hole to the frame mine for

And lock up behind me all the more tightly

Since never has our win been existing

Without all your

Assaults upon our own

Being proven here home grown

To be what pushed us in

To realising the strategy

Your own way now ours by these faults here you gave

That hooray since today be for

The Poem: unlike most going here, less able be known: to form of necessity.

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 03:56:04 +0000

Has Poetry any in not already well enough Hunted?Aka Who Am I?Aka The Lady of the Lake’s Perfection is Baked To pay for my TreasureOf word made SpellYour $20 will learn you wellTreasure earnedIs treasure usefully keptWhile treasure boughtThe winds of change blow best So follow my leadIn the Hunt upon steadFor my Magic and its spellsWere never freeYet by freedom be By post with suretyIf you live not in the CityMy treasure is inFearing not its secretThrough to you tooBy mail and post whoMight send me their letterThat neverYour fear of unknownIn my wordsBut to readIs the means I have shownAs ancient culture reads natureWe read the poemThat Reconciles now knownAt my treasureOf Hell I have livedAlive I was and not too badThrough the Valley of the DeadAnd can remember deathThat of everlasting life the promiseBe never unknown to my lifeNo matter how they tryAnd even already stole ofMore than twiceThat this is the TreasureAnd I who bring it to youZen Yen Xenophobe be notMy writing will be less whatYou strangely feel accustomed toYet you I know will read me trueFor an eye on what do youIn money throughThis is the story for youA story about a small certain factYet fact of no small uncertainty thatOf large impactIn which my own is the hatBeing quietly a shell shocking factThat mine is to insulate its knowledgeWithin layer upon layer ofConditioned Scholar’s rageMy status not socially recognizedNor falsely opposed when definedYet immutable of real impactYours to reap in the learningOf gradual readingThis is no easy read throughYet worth it be for youIf you can tooFrom Eternity to now and thenI did not do138 show youThe only grounds leftWhose are ReligiousIn evidence for ScienceAnd MysticIs my pactYou will never collapseWithin this its formidable factOf biological consequencesNot of war by in personal expensesFor those whom have kept me a girlIn mind all the time While forcing me seem their want to doAnd stealing from me the memoryOf what hell is definedMight yet of course realizeThis is the well to the spellAnd of time Not more than sublimeThat the more they have stolen of my lifeThe longer their own in hell to findBy mineFor I will again so as to defeat their kindThat the least they could doWould be to let my will throughFor the future they steal ofAs though able exist at presentDoth shineWith eternity’s bindKnow it was for a very long timeFrom 1938 to 67’s grateUpon thousands of lifetimes bakedThat life be bliss beyond their comparing mindI have won myself in eternity fineBut never without Allah time

This is a test post

anungarrayididitdotcopas — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 08:38:07 +0000

This is a test post

In which I do note

That the material in the previous

Has become covered upon with

The column which was to the left

Of links etcetera

About this weblog’s host

For changing the presentation

Has failed but

Since it is my want to of

Find it amusingly

I will let it here be