Is Aboriginal Australian's poetry Islamic?

[Curaezipirid]

Elsewhere I have made some assertions about the retention of Islamic teachings by Traditionally Oriented Australian Aboriginal communities into this modern time. It is sadly however come to be that most Australians are alarmingly misinformed about modern Muslim people and our habits, and so few have been ready to accept a Muslim identity. There are reputedly about five thousand Australian Aboriginal Muslims. Yet some among that include those whom initially became Muslim only so as to conspire against persons with a Muslim identity. Yet this has an explaination. Others among us have been herding the persons in our communities whom were in a shirk and making difficulties for many, towards Muslim teaching wherein they are less of a risk to all Humans, and then those whom did not know that this was occuring made wrong assumptions about all Muslims. However, since it is now time to set these records straight, I am here today posting some of the poetry of Aboriginal Australians. The Newspaper these are published in is called the Koori Mail and is 100% Aboriginal owned and published. It contains very standard commentary from every available source about many Aboriginal persons whom have become prominent, from a very local level to an international level. Remember that the overall identifying Aboriginal population of Australia is only around 2-3 %, though perhaps as much as 5% if including every person whom considers them self at foundation an Aborigine. Those whom identify tend only to be whom were being prevented from being classed as Australian citizens because of black skin, until a referendum in 1967 in which the vast majority of Australians voted to change the constitution. My intention in this thread is to present some of the perceptions of Aboriginal Australians for the international Muslim community to observe the retention of our Indigenous form of Islam. But since most Australian Aborigines are not identifying as Muslims as a whole, it is for each Muslim to regard us independently in our identity. These poems for a portion of the mentioned Newspaper that is like a letters to the editor section.

Fighting for Our Land:

They cam for afar to this sacred land
And stole what was ours, with much demand
They tried to destroy everything that we knew
With no remorse, compassion or even review
Their actions were selfish, greedy and cruel
What the didn't realise, is we'd fight for this land too

Our leaders fought for us, they were noble, it's true
They made sure the British saw our point of view
The British used guns, and weapons, brand new
But our 'brave mighty warriors' still plunged on right through
They still haven't realised the things they have done

To all of my people, who just want this as one
They are the intruders on this land
But my people are willing to walk hand in hand
The only way things will ever be right
Is to realise Aboriginal people's traditional rights

Michele Frost, Kurri Kurri, NSW

Writing to You:

I feel the urge to write to you
Yes you, you are the one and you know
Be black, be beautiful, be you
Amidst all the goings on in our Land
I am glad that you, yes, you,
Have taken a stand
Be black, be beautiful, stand tall, don't fall

I am proud of you, for the way you stand
Being a role model within our society
Be black, be beautiful, be you
You are numbered with the many
Who have never abused any
Be black, be beautiful, be you

Malcom Champion, Port Augusta S.A.

Love and Mercy:

Jesus, Love and Mercy are deeper than the ocean
More forgiving that any of our motions
Higher than any mountain
More pure that a water fountain
More mystic that Uluru
They are there for me and you
They are more luminour than the sky
They are there for you and I

Like the sunshine touching people along the beach
The warmth of the love and mercy each person does reach
Some just feel them more clearly as they respond
To this love and mercy from the blue beyond
There before time began on this Earth
When God thought of us before our birth

Jesus, Love and Mercy are more powerful than the oceans
More stronger than our negative emotions
Yes, they are vaster than the sky
They are there for you and I
So I'm larning to love him, this King up high

Mary Price, Brunswick East, VIC

A Song Eternal:

You blow through my hair
Ubiquitous
A song upon my lips

A call eternal
The full moon
An eclipse

You, the contained applause
Of falling leaves
An autumn sunset
A gentle blustering breeze

The row of cotton trees
Naked now their leaves have fallen
Stand like silent warriors
Calling

Your name
A song upon my lips

Bright as a full moon
Mysterious the eclipse

Wrapped in your words
Like a possum skin cloak
Passionate laughter
A magnificent she-oak

You now depart
Though you never go
We beckon you
As the highlands
The snow

The earth is empty
The womb
A shell
You an Angel
Life a spell

These words
Artifacts
Of your leaving
Of our love for you
Now the grieving

You blow through my hair
Ubiquitous
A song upon my lips

Mysterious
The full moon
Eternal the eclipse

this was written for a deceased cousin, teacher and woman warrior, whose name I have removed from the poem in accordance with Traditionally Oriented custom of my own adherence, but in the original authored with the name by Romaine Moreton July 14 2006

Dots and Circles:

dots an circles on a canvas
formations bright and bold
each one tells the story
of a culture wise and old

rock are in a cave
the likes you'll never see
each story is uniqure
while shrouded in mystery

lines in the sand
passing down of the lore
Elders of the tribe
know exactly what they're for

ochre on a face
indication of who you are
do you come from my tribe
or are you from afar

paintings in the gallery
for all the world to see
in droves they come to admire it
but its secret is safe with me

dots and cricles hold the dreaming
of the spirits and the land
lines are there forever
just like the Dreaming

if you are seeking proof
or have a troubled mind
dots and circles provide the truth
that our ancestors left behind

Dillinga, Charters Towers, QLD

Nan:

A woman of spirit
A woman of Soul
A woman so beautiful
She never grows old

Younger and younger every year
she is so beautiful dear
Both inside and out
Like a rose bud sprout

My rock my life
When I am sometimes in strife
Keeps me strong
When the winds are blowin' wrong
She's my life
'Cos she is like my mum
Always there when I am strung

Believed in me
And helped me be free
Who I want to be
Like a bird flying
Head held high
'Cos I was knee-high

Always says 'Don't look in the rearview mirror'
'Cos my Soul will simmer
And sweat and get hot
But she said stop

So now I am looking straight
Face like a plate
But moveable still
'Cos I am not unwell

Thankyou my Nan
I am so proud to be part of your clan

by Shian Barker


Our Planet Earth

As the wind blows gently through the trees and the forest
The birds are chirping as the sun begins to shine
Morning dw slowly evaporates and turns into think fresh air
Creatures great and small arise and start their day

While back in the city, pollution is on its way
For you (who) are unable to smell fresh air
Creatures great and small arise and start their day

While back in the cities pollution is on its way
For you (who) are unable to smell the fresh air or see the blue skies from smog
People go to work by means of transport available to them

Not for the slightest moment or instance do they realise what is happening to our planet Earth or to our bodies
Just stop and think, if we were to put rubbish in its proper place

Plant trees in any unwanted space
It would then be a start in the right direction
For only then there would be no need to wear gas masks for protection

This planet of ours is a beautiful place on land or sea
If we were slowly to destroy it then where would we be?
Imagine not being able to go sight-seeing, camping or experience life out among the wilderness

Just stop and think, if we were to let rubbish spread and become a filthy disease. then all life would evenually cease
Imagine not being able to hear birds singing, watching dophins swimming or koalas
So please, if you love where you live and dwell, how about doing some good to the world, by recycling and do not litter
That way your making sure out planet does not look bitter

You never know, by keeping it clean, someone else might get the drift
If you know what I mean

by D. Beetson

Sorry:

For over 200 years
Kooris have struggled every day
Through the joys and the tears
But we are here to stay

Gubbas came and took our land
And our children too
We must make a stand
That means me and you

Gubbas can by the boat loads
And bought all these laws
Built bridges and their roads
For a good cause

Put our people in a chain
And locked us away
Now we can feel our pain
When we gather and pray

today is not different from then
Every day is a worry
But we will fight to the end
Until Australia can say 'sorry'

Rex Wightman, Boggabilla, NSW

These were all published in the Koori Mail that can be accessed readily for any up to the minute info about the concerns of Aboriginal Australians at www dot koorimail dot com

[babybackribs]

Stop it, already !!

[Curaezipirid]

OK, I can stop, but my need really is only to express the importance of our long experience of our initiation tradtion in the general scheme of evolution, but at that I believe that there are persons with equitable teaching upon this that are Indigenous to Hindu Kush, and far more recently first invaded by Kaffir than we, so "already" I can well believe.

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam,

I've got a few more poems I could add in here, and a community at koorimail.com forums, who are questioning why am I posting their work here.

There are a few poems that were published after I started this thread, and which seem to follow on from these being placed here. At first I was planning to post them also, but now it isn't feeling correct to.

However in general I need to highlight that the situation among many Aboriginal Australians is one in which the cultural basis of most comprehension of reality has been stolen from people for a number of consequetive generations by such sever physical abuse, that it is often frightening for them/us, to see Aboriginal work in any non-Aboriginal context.

The Indigenous Australian systems of maintainence of culture have been attacked such that often only the old people in remote areas are able to discern which parts of our knowledge are needing to be told in which context so as to re-inforce that knowledge.

I am going to mention that there is a poem in the first post about a woman called Lisa Bellear, whose passing away is being "commemorated", by her community. But whose name I left out of one of the poems I posted in the first post in this thread. To my mind, it is better to follow the ancient Aboriginal way of never mentioning the name of a deceased person, but her own community seem to have wanted it that her name is remembered, so I am adding this here only to that purpose of identifying that they want.

There is more poetry written about her that is less Islamic than the first, so I hope my self that her own knowledge will be enough for her meet the hour with her own dignity. It is also of Aboriginal culture that upon a persons death, mourners accept upon each other the aspects of that person's self that could have been preventing them from accepting Allah. Insha Allah it is that her death manifests acceptance of that which was Lisa Bellear among all those counted true believers.

To that I should also add that in the most general terms Australian Aboriginal poetry in modern urban contexts is often almost too painful to read. I had contemplated providing an example of such, but I shall not like to impose the detail. However it finished with the line: "I am a Native to Burnt Bridge road."

This epitomises the Aboriginal Australian experience of our land being invaded. But perhaps we are not the only ones.

mu'asalam

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[F.Y.]

Thanks sis, I have read a few Aboriginal poems but never the ones you've listed above.
Its quite disturbing what happened to them - it still is. I work with a child who is Aboroginal and the problems in thier communities are phenomenal. Sometimes its too hard to comprehend - we've never had to deal with what they have.
But Islam and Aboriginals, I believe are quite connected. There are aboriginal muslims and more turn to Islam every year. There is one word aborigines use to call God. I cant remember what it is but Ahmed Deedat was quite impressed because it is a word that means "a God that doesnt eat, sleep, drink, go to the toilet...etc' - bascially, all the stuff we believe abotu Allah.

Peace

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam,

There is much of Aboriginal tradition that had remained based in a culture of worship of a variety of god-head figures, but it is that these persons were significant Men, and all Saints in truth. However, it is also that all such tradtion had begun to alter into a Monotheist framework of belief when first in contact with the Empire of Islam. In around 1770 it is measured that there were three fifths of the population of the Eastern Sea board (that with the least time of contact with Islam) were already believing in only one God, or One single unified and unifying Creator. Bunjil is one name given to such a belief manifesting as a named being. Bunjil is the name used in much of the region which formerly worshipped through the god-head worship of Bhyame, and He remains a significant figure since He is equated with a senior Priest or Iman. In that word "Bunjil" is also expressed a manifestation of a comprehension of the biologicial status of Aboriginality and that it is attributed to one single creator, Allah, as a deed enacted upon Aborigines for the improvement of our being. That brings Bhyame's status, and all His teaching that is retained by Aborigines, within the understand that all He did was a manifestation of Allah's will. As equitably a Saint in status, it must be obvious that such was at all times Bhyame's own comprehension.

Truly it is very good that Bunjil is the preferred term being used at this time, (and similar sounding verbs expressing the doing of Allah's will) because often Bhyame's name has been wrongly associated by shaytans with their attempts to undermine the biological status of Aboriginality as a fact. The difference in an Aborigine and other persons is that there is a genetic basis of prevention of damage to the Human spirit being caused by wrong use of the Human breath. Therefore it is also that Aborigines tend more towards manifesting physical illnesses than to developing diseases of Spirit.

It is also that very much of what has befallen Aborigines has been among the attempts of shaytan to damage this biological status to which I am referring; but in that is their own final end, since by trying to fault such they have only faulted a major source of food of the substances that we ourselves are made from, and that has been sustaining their own manifestations in Human form. If there are no persons left with a healthy Human Spirit, why then not one of us will be available to be stolen from for shaytans purposes of manifesting avoidance of the fire. But as surely as F.Y. writes it is truly disturbing the extent to which shaytan needed to push the tenacity of Human survival, before they began to accept this simple fact; and at that, it is also a great tribute to Human survival that many Aborigines are without Religious training, within conditions of having been stolen from their mothers for as many generations as there has been contact with the invaders of Australia, and are yet readily manifesting in the faith of True Believers. Many Aboriginal Australians are only mis-informed about Islam, but in truth it is that once any of us connect with the Ummah, we will be that sustaining to, and are readily enabled to recognise modern Islam as an embodiment of much of the teaching that long was already ours.

mu'asalam

[Woodrow]

:sl:

Very interesting Thread. The poetry does give some understanding about your culture. It sounds like you have a very rich culture. It is wonderfull to see that many are embracing Islam.Mashallah

[sonz]

salama

thats why aboriginals r converting to islam in great rate

Aborigines turn to Islam

2003

A rising number of young Aborigines in Australia are converting to Islam.

Many have embraced the religion for spiritual reasons, while others insist it gives them a way to escape the oppression suffered by the country's indigenous population.



Australia's indigenous people are disadvantaged at almost every turn.
They are far more likely to be unemployed or in jail than any other group.
A small but growing number of young Aboriginal men are now turning to Islam, and it is now estimated there are 1,000 Aboriginal Muslims in Australia, including new recruits and descendants of mixed marriages.
They say it gives them the inner strength to meet the challenges facing black Australia.


The majority of Aborigines are Christians, converted by European settlers.
Indigenous communities first came into contact with Islam more than 150 years ago when Afghan camel trains helped open up Australia's harsh interior.


These two vastly different groups - an ancient native people and Middle Eastern traders - found they shared a similar sense of spirituality.
Many converts believe the discrimination they endured growing up as Aborigines has prepared them well for life as a Muslim in Australia.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/2902315.stm

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam,

a few factual additions to what others have posted:

I have been told that there are upwards of five thousand Aboriginal Muslims in 2006, but have not verified that yet through a 100% honest source;

Among converts are those whom converted in prisions and whom are inclined to misrepresent actual traditional Aboriginal culture, so there is a minor level of disinformation caused among Australian Muslims by such persons;

Australian Aborigines resisted Christian missionaries more strongly than any other indigenous population, and when the conversion occurred it was in one rapid move originating in Elco Island N.T. among Aborigines whom have been anthropologically evidenced to have already been converted to Islam when the Empire of Islam first reached Australia';

Also it is that those first mass conversion did not happen until there was afforded a pilgrimage to Jerusalem so as to claim ownership of Gospels soundly within Aboriginal tradition;

There is a book written called "Linden Girl" about an Aboriginal women whom was married by an Afgan Camel trader called Jack Akbar. It tells the story of how the authorities attempted most devastatingly to prevent their marriage. It is only one small part of a mass of historical evidence in which it is clear that those whom invaded Australia have been working to prevent Aborigines converting to Islam. (Perhaps the Mahdi will belong to a Pilgrimage of Aboriginal Australians? and perhaps that mountain will be revealed thus as Uluru, since the story of Uluru accords precisely? But these are not yet facts and so I can not really know; except in that accordance of the story of Uluru.)

Mu'asalam

[north_malaysian]

There are 5,000 Muslims among aborigines in Australia.... wow... how about the Papuans and Maoris?

[Curaezipirid]

That will be difficult to guess at, especially since that number of five thousand is unreliable since it came from a PNG man who is often in the company of Maoris and seems to have done the deed of The Dajjal, but really quite innocently on the whole by comparison to many who fall to its manifestation. But I can not be certain of his act until The Dajjal is counted.

[Curaezipirid]

alaikumassalam

Now I am way more shy about my own poetry being up in any internet forum than any body might suspect; but here is one, and in it I am shy. (but may be only newly shy from having made a new thread about the place I live in?) Oh well, I should just having to cope with my poem being read rather than avoiding posting it any more now:

The Right in Silent Certainty
of Way Chosen Being the Way
of Not Making Accusations:

You just need
To perceive that we
Who have not received
The best
Of education
Are yet blessed
And standing by
The best
Will you be the rest
Since of I has
My friend died
And I Dreamed alive
And knew
Thousands of years black
Been true
Of one seven two
A zero for a shoe
Has white Australia a black history
Is a slogan too true
But of what is its tune
And why had we known
To make another ring
For the moon
Is this for you
One day be true
To Isa too

it might as well be all only these few (words that is) mu'asalam

[`Abd al-Azeez]

:sl:

Wow! An Aborigine Muslimah, can't believe we've got brothers and sisters in Australia, may Allah guide you.

:w:

[F.Y.]

Oh sis, I remembered the Aboriginal word used for God "Atnatu" (translates as someone who doesnt eat, sleep, drink, have kids, etc all the stuff we believe about Allah)- but I am unaware whether this word is used by a particular tribe or tribes within a particualr geographical location within Oz.

Peace

[Curaezipirid]

Assalamalaikum,

that word sounds to me like a representation of the female creative essence also called Yhi

like a feminine aspect of Allah

mostly shaytan sustain belief best by believing first in the feminine, and from the feminine are then able adjust believe into consideration of Allah' truth

But since it is not a word from a language I speak do not take my word for it.

I am going to make another post after this with some other of my own poetry. Since I am finding it increasingly burdensome to post any of my poetry I should just frame that for other Muslims within mainstream Australian culture and as it is impacted upon by Aboriginality and Indigenous belief structure.

'What ever you reckon' is that expression which best represents the state of mind I need to maintain whilst posting my own work. I will usually cry out when enough is enough, and only in that measure. But it is as Australian as ever to manifest self that has little care for falling into ill repute; and an aspect of modern Australian culture, in which our Indigenous heritage can not be denied. So while any of my own work is up there in the public domain; I tend to back off upon any self defence in any strategy of the exposition of my work. That is the expectation within Australian culture of any person whom is in any way in any role of leadership; if they are out their in front then they need to be 'reeled in' even if a really very good person, for example like the National regard for Steve Irwin prior to his death. It is not until he is now gone that Australians pay any open regard for the quality of his leadership; and he could never have maintained any popularity if he had not been constantly insistent that we attend to him being 'just an ordinary bloke' and with many poor qualities. So just let it be that my own writing is within that public domain in Australia in which Aussies will not give it any positive commentary; and if I am any good, then when I am dead folk will remember that I wasn't all bad. (typical Aussies!)

So I will make a post after this with some of the less well written poems but that are already wedged if a few folks memories.

Wasalam

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam: these are them sort of sets of words, perhaps able to be called poem, a bit motely:


Be Believing Because:

Babylon the Great
Mother of *****s
Became without Fame
And the Beast some bloke who stoked
The fires of Hell
But could not believe
Any other was willing
To go there as well
As Him an Ifrit but Her Jinn
His sin in that He could not believe
In Peaceful racial relations
Or Fruitful marital negotiations
A Fatherly Ghost of the Profanity
That Criminality was every accorded Sanity
His nose borrowed from Her wider nostrils
The smell of His own blacker skin
But disease ridden he assumed her white skin beaten
While playing the black man among white
He played also a white advantage among the blacker
This is the story of di-sanity re-ordered
The chocoholics milk hazelnut flavoured delight
Of treasure to hunt through every night


A S-poetic S-postal Spelling Spree
Of S-poems Spelt S-perfectly
Is the reward of Treasure if you follow my Hunt
If you live not in the City my Treasure is in
Fear not its secret through to you too
By mail and post
You send me that letter
Never your fear of unknown
In my words but to read
Is the means I have shown
The Poem
That Reconciles
Now known
At my Treasure
And was
To pay for my Treasure
Of word made Spell
Your $20 will learn you well
Treasure Earned
Is treasure usefully kept
While treasure bought
The winds of change blow
So follow the right lead
In The Hunt
My magic
And its Spells
Free
By Post
With surety
If you live not
In the City
My Treasure is in
Fearing not its secret
Through to you too
By Mail and Post
You send me
That letter
Never
Your fear
Of unknown

In my words
But to read
Is the means
I have shown
The poem
That Reconciles now known

At my Treasure
Of Hell I have lived faultlessly
Alive I was and not too bad
Through the Valley of the Dead
That found is this Treasure
And I that who bring
Is Jinn
We are Awakening


Zen Yen Xenophobe be not
My writing will be less what
You strangely feel accustomed to
Yet you I know will read me true
For an eye on what do you
In money through
This is the story for you
A story about a small certain fact
Yet fact of no small uncertainty that
Of large impact
In which my own is the hat
Being quietly a shell shocking fact
Mine is to insulate its knowledge
Within layer upon layer
Of conditioned scholarage
Yours to reap in the learning
Of gradual reading
This is no easy read right through
Yet worth it be for you
If you can too
From Eternity to now and then
I did not do
138 show you
The only grounds left
Whose are Religious
In evidence for Science
And Mystic


A simply accounting
Number of words
In each line
Of the related poem
Before now lifted
Out of my mind
While
Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time
With A Man
Called
Nobody you know
Whose only fault in that
He failed to advise
Of consumer fact
When you are advised
That if only you had lust
You could have won
By the exact same they
Who accuse you at
As though their lust yours
When you have none in that
Then
And only then
Can you be certain
You have won

Lesser of Year
Never could claim
Ancient of Day in status
Yet by Ancient of Day
Who let them self trust in the Devil
Yet not for lies but that
His evidence their selves He verifies
We are blessed with old self
Our Soul grew within true
And will validate the recognition
Of bonds of all blood
We took as our own self that
Old discarded and Ancient
That those selves never became
Monsters that are Soulless
Of debts uncounted
Ancient of Day Aboriginal
The Earth you have been paying
That our Lesser Years be
In Aboriginality knowing Love
Yet Ancient that scarred each other unpaid
We will not let scar us
You who have not Loved us into living
Nor provided us our self
While we are who took
Your debt to the Earth
Our home with you
Fear our being belies your winning
For if your claim is to winning
Best your life be Aboriginal
True to your own Animal Story
For if it be nazi
We will use against you
Who choose you own path
Not to know we are true
Within the secret truth that
It Hurt because I ate Red Sorghum
On 6th March 2006
Only upon 6th March 2006
And now it is better
And it hurt because Love is that I know you
And know Forgiveness





Poem 25. (this one is part of a distinct set to the group that all these are most recently published in)
Power:

Power is in a line on a wooden pole
Power is in Prayer to God
Power to the People but
Power in the factory land and hand?
Work multiplied by force is the scientific formula
If my hand is at all times driven by God’s Will
And the land is my story of owning debt to Earth
Then the factory is my body manufacturing the particles of
The matter through which power healthily flows
And the matter is white
Yet black is a force I know
A powerless force to God.
Yet I am of a mind that my skin need live black.


Hit Her it was:

Should it because
Since when was this pause
Put in as a clause
To the junk holes contract
Beware of disease in contact
That they forget
I was to have Forgiven
Their sins they re-liven
So supposed their tact
Even of those whose timing
Is counted a sublime thing
Picking the eyes out of
The future stances they love
To hate by refuting
In Dreaming their lives away
For imagination
They are who do so
That their true minds blow
Up no intelligence hide outs
But only each others wipe outs
That when they hit thus
For the riches hidden in it
The next in their sequence is
Yes another chance to let
Their drug driven flight
Be you death holding theirs yet
But let them pay for their fancy
Flights through our consciousness
By providing their payments
Form this
With its
Now clear reminder
We who you hit on
Are ever who holds you
Into your deaths by this
That prefer you
Become Muslim instead


:p :smile: :sunny: mu'asalam

[Curaezipirid]

(good job about the automatic *** ing of inappropriate words: I had that same poem deleted in a variety of alterations from MyIslamWeb; but without putting two and two together about the word that brought offense because in the specific context there is no more appropriate (but perhaps only in that I know the real truth is it thus) - - -mu'asalam

[Skillganon]

JAzak allah khair sis.

I read the first few poems in the opening thread. I fund it very vivid, somehow it is reaching out and trying to touch you. It was beutiful.

[Curaezipirid]

Was it?

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam,

Today in Ramadan, I am going to post two more poems here. I need first to clarify a significant matter in respect of this work, but within the context that it is a copyright work and this time is Ramadan.

As author of a large quantity of writing, including a number of poems written within context of need to express long term experience of thought convergence between Islam and my own Indigenous heritage; I am needing to clarify the reasoning for a copyright existing. Some portions of my work were learned of by shaytan who assumed to adopt the words to their own purposes by presenting only portionally and without true context, or in perversions to the true context. Their black magic has in fact incorporated some elements of my poems without my consent. Thereby, in order to prevent danger in such conditions; it is necessary that all words I write that could become available, are able to be sourced back to my self so as to substantiate original meaning. That is why a copyright was put in place.

The copyright is in the case of these poems dated as September 23rd and 24th 2006. But the post mark may not be placed until Monday. Thereby the date in this website needs be considered in my respect. I may again here assert that my reason is not for money; and if the website owns a copyright that takes a legal precedence, neither in Allah can that be for money. The name of the copyright to my self is ANungarrayididit.Copas. I will explain this. A is the singular pronoun. Nungarrayi is a Warlbiri language word for a skin name that is the correct name within Warlbiri language by which to address me. Didi is an Irish colloquial expression for a mother’s breast, and also a term used for a Nun by among Hindu. The “t” at the end is a reference to the Tower of Babel, and directly linking the whole name into an understanding of polemic misuse of my words being perhaps inevitable to the ill of mind, and also causal to copyright.

I am also at this time in the process of registering a Trade Mark that will link to the copyright. The process will be complete within one year. The cause of enacting causing a Trade Mark is entirely in the same set of facts, but to provide further protection for Human Labour. I have been perceiving abuses of work made in Allah being forced upon true believers by shatyan. That which I perceive(d) is too detailed to here describe, yet it need be asserted that shaytan have raped Jinn and Angel and Human, and claimed the labours of into corrupt purpose; but when those labours are made for Allah, in the end only Allah can receive of, and this mechanism is merely one by which Human beings are comforted in being able to receive evidence that the worth of labour is traceable. The trade mark is by definition a tool for such purpose. Insha Allah all men will begin to comprehend Trade Marking is a mechanism enabling those passing through fire to choose actively in Allah to trace the origin of expression, and so recycle the selves that shaytan have stolen.

The trade mark I am registering is named “Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time; AManuel,” as a word mark only, and its application number is 1092767 lodged with IPAustralia. It is available to me to register at 4th November 2006, unless an objection is raised or time extension sought within with to find evidence for objection. It exists to prove that in my own labour and that of my children whom will inherit, there was never any cause of profits in money against Human Labour. That is, its worth is entirely in manifesting proving of a non-interest, non-inflation based economy; that can prove Qur’an and ahadith. When the registration process is complete I am intending also to incorporate a company that is accorded the status of “Not-For-Profit” through the Aims and Objectives legally written into the Memorandum and Articles, or constitution. The company will inherit the Trade Mark and will be governed by my self and only those with direct genetic heredity. That is, only by persons already passed through the fire to the full degree necessary to comprehend all causes of money.

Thereby the Trade Mark must be understood as means of enforcing that work in allah is ever fully accounted by Allah. Insha Allah that my only legacy is the demonstration of giving up all worth is not cause to fear that ever will be; and accountably, this demonstration is made available to as many true believers as history can permit.

Comprehend that I stand knowing I am being Judged by Men and Shaytan; and am at Peace in Allah whom may alone Judge them.

After all that the poems are seemingly to me to be badly written, and might get a bit redrafted by my self in time. But since only today and yesterday they are written, it seems right to post them.

So who are ‘they’ then
And do we need to win
Against they who are ‘them’
Those Shaytan
Those Rosicrucian
Occultists of Nazism
Those of the cult of forced breathing
Who are they then
By why need we know them
Out here of this worldly fear
When surely what defines them
Is what we need learn want distaining
That imagined falsehood of beliefs strained
That one man’s sin could be escaped
In another man’s pain
That we feared our pain could be caused
By one of their crimes of hate
But then what is pain for
And why don’t we just fall
To their accusations
Since only in Hell’s cause
Will we face their
Need that we in their pain
Ensure
They are never truly escaping
And thus the need for sure
Is only that we never accept them accusing
Us of being them
So therefore
None could call
Anybody insane
If only for refuting
Being one of
Whoever are them
We will meet again
Once more in
The Valley of the Dead
Wherein
I have been more alive than dead
That now I believe
This world more dead
And so thank them
For this lesson
Well red
In Heaven
That I let them
Be police men


The next poem is like the small remainder in a really big long division sum of who owes who how much time. For example: sixty four hours, divided into a series of five hourly repeating sequences, is twelve sequences with a remainder of four hours of an incomplete sequence. Then consider the five hourly sequence to be one complete year in its most precise measure. (1400 divided by 4 for how many leap years?) Who ever thought of the leap year must have been leaping over lots of small hole that eventually amassed into a whole year long hold from the day of predestination 2005, to the day of predestination 2006 (has it been yet?); but since this poem is written in consequence; and is a lesson for any man, in the importance of preserving the sanctity of motherhood. It is called:

Every Good Wife:

That my real self
Knows Hell is well
Of Money’s every cause
A wife I am
Who makes Him pause
And choose be poor
So He who left
For not to stand
Beside my certain toilage
In this beneficial knowledge
But sold instead
One half my story
Only to avoid good porridge
Will manifest His story
While I give in Alms
The rest
So believe you me
He many now factually
Be in debt
To those He sold
My certainty but halfly
More than He could be
To me
Those who bought from
What kept him out of prison
Will surely see
He makes them owe
More and more to me
No Aboriginal Australian
Have ever yet received reparations
Since the half he lies of
The half that proves
Money Australia’s white Government is paying
Is money stole from
All Muslim children
And is good at proving
Who among Aboriginal persons
Are truly Shaytan
That Hell is well paved
By feathery farted graves
Of those who
Dreamed Haadjmo’s Dance Time
Too true
Not what wasn’t to do
So to all you
Who speculated upon
Financial return
From long oppression
Never wondering
How Jews could wrong
Know the money upon
How they treated you
Is the cause of furthering
While money that is true
The absurdity of pretending
That holding it
Never could hurt you
And all money do
That which it faults
So lucky you
Knew not this wife’s faults
Were only others faulting you
Every Good Wife
Never better than remove
Her Husband’s idea
Of any money game
But that
D***ed if you do
D***ed if you don’t
Is that at least those who
Don’t aren’t
Escalating the account
In wrongs the fault to cause
Against who do
Knows every good wife
True blue
And to those who
Tried to be a Jew
Without accounting
Only so as to hold money against you
Yet found money only can
Be against who never believes true
The longer in Hell to
They who tempt you
To disbelieve
I am true
A child and a Jew
Indigenous Aborigine too
Who walked through
Fully remembering the Valley of the Dead true
Am only able Muslim too
Who will prove Islam in money
To every Jew
And will pay inevitably
For every act ever
Of attributing Human Quality
To any Shaytan
Who rather need
Understanding and Grace
To take their rightful place
Not under your shoe
Then Every Wife True
So remember of money
There is positive effect
And negative that
Of the past no death
Through fire
Let the causes in future
Be identifiable.


(Now I have written all of this and looked at my e-mails only to see that the Queensland Council of Imams are decided that Ramadan is not begun until Monday, because the crescent moon is not yet seen in Australia. I had begun a Ramadan frame of mind upon Wednesday 20th, and begun to fast upon Saturday 23rd, so I must thank Allah, that I am in no fault at the place I live in.)

Wasalam

[Curaezipirid]

Alaikumassalam,

This is absurd, but I need to report here that I just bought a newspaper so as to put another Aboriginal poem into this thread. One that is written by a person who is not me. But I found on the page before the poem I chose, an article by a Gamilaroi women who is a researcher into Indigenous history. She writes, (and since it is published one must assume that she is overtly supported since the paper has a reputation for being hard to get material published in) that she believes that it should be necessary for any person who seems any lawful confirmation of Aboriginality to name all ancestors who identified as Aborigines, and all living relatives whom identify as Aborigines.

So therein, by popular demand in the state of New South Wales in which I am born in, I have been firmly ruled out of all considerations of being able to access any legal documentation substantiating my Aboriginality.

Therefore my own poems throughout all Muslim websites should not be considered as Aboriginal Australian, but rather as Muslim Australian.

So in that I shall go ahead and post the poem I found in the news paper.

My Sister, My Friend:

I'd like to write you a love song
For all the years of love
And dedication to our hopes and dreaming

I'd like to tell the world
Of a woman born of royal blood
Living out her days in song and rhyme

But I don't want to disturb your dreaming
You're on the other side of time
Round a bend of the deep river
That is Aboriginal land

It's land that stretches backward
It's land that stretches forth
Beyond the boundaries of memory
Beyond the boundaries of north
Beyond the boundaries of southern sky
Or the rising of the sun
Beyond the misty hue of morning
Of the dusk when day is done

I'd like to celebrate you life
Without mentioning your name
I know that you were strong and brave
You saw who played the game

You lived life on the edge
Pushing shackles
Fighting pain
Sharing an eternity
Aboriginal again

I will miss you in the winter
But touch your spirit in the spring
While you have left us for this season
We know we will meet again

And we don't begrudge your leaving
You had so much to give
You packed eons in your lifetime
And you knew just how to live

But I will always think of you when I think of possum skins and photographers
I will celebrate you life with the fair skinned and dusky mob
I will remember we can always find our way home if we are lost
I will remember that we are undefeated even when we think that we are not

Our Spirit indominable ever returning
To the dust of our land
Will rise up as eagles
Calling every last lost Soul home
'Til as people of the Dreaming
We are one blood, in meaning

(that is by Sharon Livermore of Kempsey NSW)

[Curaezipirid]

Oh sis, I remembered the Aboriginal word used for God "Atnatu" (translates as someone who doesnt eat, sleep, drink, have kids, etc all the stuff we believe about Allah)- but I am unaware whether this word is used by a particular tribe or tribes within a particualr geographical location within Oz.

Peace

I learned a word for God from Central Australia today, from right in the Central Desert region:

Wapirra

It seems so odd for a word for God/Allah to begin with a "w" doesn't it?

But then the language has plenty of "w" words.

Human=Warlpiri or Warlbiri (any p is also a b)

Earth=Walya

Dreamtime=Jurrulpa

remembering the the English Dreamtime is a sort of tricky translation

Dreamtime=the state of mind entered in the place and at the time of Prayer

It sort of means Prayer but more like Prayer-place-time.

So when all these words are in the same context then Wapirra as a name for God makes total sense as a defining word of who you are with in mind during any Dreamtime experience. Yet it is also a word being used within a context in which it is comprehended always that Human use of language can not define the totality of who and what God is. Put all that together and the "w" makes sense.

I was reading these words in a book about a senior elder Warlbiri who passed away last year the day after receiving a hundredth birthday letter from the Queen. He was a very important figure in the Yuendumu Baptist Church.

I love being an Aborigine, and I love being because I love my people; and we all love being because we love the Earth and know that Allah loves us because we love Earth, and that is about being an Aborigine. That is what being an Aborigine means. Whenever I re-connect with my tradition I remember what I love better and why.

(The English dictionary says aborigine=indigenous person, but Aborigine=indigenous person of Australia. I wonder why we never got any other name? Indigenous=native person plant or animal to a specific region.)

Aboriginal language poetry is much more repetitive then most English poetry.

waram