Sunday, November 25, 2007

This Post is a set of Poems all made during a two week span around the Kevin '07 Labor victory election

NO MONEY

Strange long
Introduction
Derision song
That no good investment’s
Worth be upon


The Grime of No Good Investment Attention
(an ode to Declan Grimes,
middle name Gerard to be precise


The grime claimed
A specialist fame
Upon her no good investment lame
As though only he
Had the knack to see
Of what upon to invest against she
Yet being proven to be
The grimer who sees
Only that which
Is his own theft
From childhoods he made bereft
Of motherhood’s safeguards
Against his money’s lying parts
For the specialist he was
A specialist faker
Of female pleasure
His infamous name rendered
The decker of
No other grimey part
Than his own Irish stools
Of blatant pathological snarl
Declan Grimes was trying
To express his own part
The sort of liar
Who tricked a few doctors
By his claim to have specialised
Attending upon
Her no Good investment
As though all money were made of


No Money In It

No money in it
There is no money in this
Nor any in that
About which
This is
Thus beware of
My fact
In you that is that
Your own not mine
Did do to find
That there is no money in it
In fact


Yet Worse Itself

Will there be no gain in me
None to take no matter how painfully
For of the truth here you strain-fully
Extracted from that your mind captured
Was nothing to gain from
My own mind captive
So less your worth
In money’s thirst
If this you did find in me
Worse playfully
Upon your own end be
Less and less of
All money


Less Worth

Less worth here
Than anywhere
Unless of course
You let it help with
Its mother’s cause
From son to father
More like two cousins
Will there be for
Nothing at all
Unless and until because
The future runs a straight course


No Profits to Gain from Me

There is in me
A story
About who dunnit
The sinner
You found it
Is you if you know this
Of money
Less be
And profit intolerance
The truth in me
There is to gain nothing
But the stain
Of incrimination
That me


No Money Here

No money here
Unless and until
The climate change bill
Be reconciled into
Revelations the gap fill


No Profit

No profit from terror
Whatever the weather
Neither money upon feather
Nor gain from the anti-terrorist
Act of the legislature


Of Climate Change Weather

Of climate change weather
No money upon feather
Without the real will
Of who reconciles without lust still
Yet less than nothing all other

That committed red
The Christmas bill to wed
Depends yet still
Upon putting together
The right folk who weather
The fact of no money until
The real story behind this
Correctly recognised
To be no disguise
But of solutions
For children too wise
Is reality today yet to find
But known and certain
Revelations no curtain
To Mohammed’s words why
Life lived not for lies


Toothache

My toothache is my own
And pennilessness founded upon that
For no better way in fact
To ensure that the worth real
Is in everything except money’s feel


Proven

There is no money in me
Provably
For those who seek
Do only cheat
And sing of me on TV
So ask what be their mighty feat
Since there is no money in me any old week



Believe

You’d wanna believe
I won’t ever conceive
Of money made in
Any bad thing
Happening to children

So find yourself
Eating the leaf
Of poverty’s sheath
If money through me you seek
Since my children ain’t safe
While not with me

And if by fate
Money the flavour
Of children’s labour
Then be it not to savour
For the investment upon
Is all which forever went wrong
So believe me
Never conceive in me
That money’s favour
Be extracted from
Any child experience table
Since never it was
That money’s cause
In protecting children
Was in truth
Caused by
The child in I
For with my
Virginity die
The longevity of no life with
A true marriage no fight
Is the longer you might have to have been
Tricked by
Those who
Of me
Have lied



No Money This Stitch

No money in it
The event function
That we are to shit
No money in it
For on par
No jar
The lair of the liar
Too far
Is schoolies not bar
For its
Yet the truth
Is this
Our kids own cover
Their best discovered
That playground chants
What no child romances
Meanwhile thus of
Was
Our men strong
Not too long
Without been fallen among
No tits
No money in it
And the smoko feast
That blokes did their best
Yet were not who found of
But
Wrongly upon
Children’s luck
Where who sought to blame
Upon who harmed of
By looking through
The child’s eye
And blaming what is seen by
While inside
Thus inmates have been convicted
There is no money in it these stitches
Since very childhood was convicted
That no worth in money exists
Until locked in truth
By Kinship’s
Real roots
Let Allah your roof
While women go to Jupiter
To get more stupider
And men have gone to Uranus
So as to have got more famous
Has who its real sequence
To boot
And who can recombine this here spoof
Into a real burden
Uncomplained of non-conformist
Partitioned that done the army


Free For Some

Out past Logan
I met John Tobin
With an offer worth less to me
Than the biker body guard be
On par with that he
Failed to realise in words promised to me
Is not what you might be famished to see
Yet lately what we all might be needing to lead
The economy out of the darkness through in me
But for whose weed
And that nobody might ever had wanted to bleed
Yet that we all knew of
One day someone would have been
Who caused of
The certainty
On par with
A pardon
Paradise at Surfers
This diti is on
But for who frittered
The glitter upon
Given the Arab harassment
Australian suitable replacement
For loss by American mistakes of an accident
In falling to what French roast meant
Might be entrenchment
But for the benchmark
Arabs know how we will park
At the start
Of trade on
Carbon
Sinks done
By will yet
Please try not
To but if you
Can’t
Then don’t buy into
For its not my way to have done that too
Yet today it seems true
By my shoe
And of what on
The Korean
An American in China
Professor of movies
In the north was
I have no confession
Yet of what ever upon
They all did
The moon because of
Yet that John Tobin agreed with me
I’ve counted my losses
But has he
Will that you might have
Boxed me
Until talk we
In schoolies defences
This mess is
The police’s
Yet be


Fashion Link

Fashion link sunk
God send no spunk
But the slit in the skirt
Revealing of thigh
Was named Muslim in kind
Of money profits by thus defiled
Name only since this be not why
In light of the weather
Of bikini storms been feathered
Will we forever find
That Justice in Galleries
Is of Art
The fashionable kind
And tuneful the sorting song
Of who it works out told long
Paradise the painting’s name
Will never the fame lame
What truth tamed
Of the fee
Upon free
For some is not me
And drug free we be
Whose lives this sunk
By no punk funked
Yet fox
And got
The lot
Is have had
Forever my own lot
Upon federations not what
Hell just enough
Of the box
I have that not got
Is fashion’s new lot


Black Not Because

Black not because
We might not have to
Take it so hard as
Those going white tonight are
One day also
Going to have to
But because the black way
Knows the truth more so
And the fee of being free
They have less fun than we
For the prison in which
By blaming their way to get rich
Yet so can we
And just as hard the end then with them
But of less integrity
That less fear from
Reproach be
So blame only who
Made it seem to be
Confused between
What way to be
Need not if you truly
Knew that we know honestly
Or not of nothing knowingly


But Have I Indeed

Did that
Try tempt me
Blame you
For what but
Angered me
That if you
Then at
Seem to do
Who knew
But me
If I had been



Blaming Your Own Fear Of Being Blamed Was

Frightened up by the fear
Of kinship broken
Blames not lightly
Not likely
Yet down to the ground bringing what with we
And can not afford itself without
Was it blaming or not blaming
Somebody
While blaming who so
Might cause thus
Take the end equally
That best blame if have to
Who confuses the difference between
Most actively
That you best not blame me
For not you this through me
Unless of you blamed me


Since

No Money in it
Since
We rip just as hard black these days
That no white bugger might
Have it
Enough to disguise white ways
Yet of mind is my meaning
And real skin touch feeling
For skin colour depends on
How much blaming is done
So in company to keep
Let not your self be too cheap
But take that hat of the shelf
Of owning your own fate
For in its truth now
Be your best take
Since going upon white
As white as you might
Is today just as easy
To rip off
As any child might have been to have got
Through how many how far ripped off each one far
That only to live now already
Each and every


Because

No money in it
Because
If a child is blamed
And comprehends
What with
Yet knows not to be active
In doing it too
Will that child ever win over
Even you know who
For the child who learns
How to
Take hell like the worst of men do
Fears not to
And will for
To prevent of
What money that blames this might peg down to
Is that we’re all in it
Together as ever
Our indigenous
Australian
Lot
Permanently had of
Naught but we’re all here because
One day somehow
That blame of the blame against children
We knew would be forgiven
That how is now
And the children who did it
Sure as God there are Angels who
Do peg it down unto
Only whom-so-ever had been willing to
For when children will
By death known to the ground
Peg all that causes death thus down
And grow so certain of life through
Yet live on in knowledge of
Why there is already no pleasure left in
For any worse than to steal of
That question together
Is this what was ever
That we would all come to
That no money in it
Might you too
Unless of course
Be the adult who
Refuses to
Blame who knew


Head in the Sand

An insult mighty grand
And slammed
From the worth of all manhood
Down into the girl’s derth of
Real capacity to understand
What she might have missed was
Is this and
But that she knew what
He missed too
Of her own knowledge in which he did do
So let not his name
Be let the same
Of that fame of
What his might will for to


Everyday

What will it be there today
What how is it we can say
And to stay
But that of my own reputation to blame
Might we not realise each the same


For When Nobody Remains

No money in it
For when nobody remains
Who can tell you
Who is whom between
The child and the paedophile
Short of being the rapist themselves too
Then what has the world come to
That answer we must
The sand is washed
We’re all equally together
In this here lot
For surely more than one of us
Holds unto
What keeps life alive being
The only thing to do


Confusion

There was a confusing detail
That has confused the details
Causing me to have confusing detail
Of what has confusing detail
Be what upon summer time
In Paradise
We have won
But of which details might my confusion
Is that I’ll not tell it to you


Check It Out

Check out my
Website this right
For who had the false insight
To blame me
Wrongly
As though a bad mother
When in an effort to discover
Whey not to let my son be
A schoolie
Was I being
Blamed with
Too far my effort
Towards being a better
Parent
Until who blamed me
Realised
Their blaming
Was preventing me
From really
Being what they accused me
Strangely
So their minds charged
That might we need change
They began investigating my day
Of the 18th should they
But instead
Upon 19th depended
That they ripped off
In preference
Not what tourism’s industry
But that which enabled through
False impressions of me
Being blamed for my discovery
Of how the tourist industry
Rips of each generations
Making accommodation
Bookings as schoolies
All the while
The whole game
Still premised upon
Believing of me
That my overspending of money
A wealthy person’s story
When the truth is
All it’s
Cracked up to be
Wealth in money is not my reality
But that I have been
Unable escape from
Being billed wrong
Because of what’s been
Stolen from me
And yet it still seems
There maybe another way
To be blaming me
As though I thrive from the thieving of culture
Of my blacker countryman’s teaching
Because in reality
I am a good mother provably
Which even the police seem to believe
Must be evidence of my theft
From a blacker woman thus bereft
And yet of my own uterus be
That this is only of me
Having put all my children
Off ever becoming
A schoolie
The lot thus for me
Seems that of
A pride-less writer to be
Writing my own
Indigenous story
Of how my son proved me
To be a good mother in reality
So when they
Blame all who blame me
Then sell blaming me back to
The same folk they blame of
Blaming me
As their own way to make money
Best they
Sell of the copyright
Story
In which this comes to be
As back in 1999 no party came to be in me
Just the realising of what maybe
And that it is not disgracefully
Except for who
Imagined me to be
The schoolie
Who
http://
schooliesatsurfers
be



How

How they managed accuse
Mothers of giving our children the blues
Is of those times when
Our children are out of our own supervision
And yet that a mother’s willl
Is to forgive her child still
That if she love her children
Into her own analysis
Of their immediate
Situation
Might it be her own mind
And not that of her children
Who learns of what is to fear of
Or so they assume
Those whom know only
The forgiveness which steals
Of life’s certainty real
So when a mother is accused
Of learning about
What her children might need in mind
So as to fear right
In unfamiliar environments unkind
It proves naught but
The accusers own lust
To prevent mothers who can
From protecting our children
So bear in mind this outcome
That how those who hate all mothers
Were advantaging themselves
Of our children’s worldly self
Was by blaming mothers who encourage
The children to blame
For when
There is accusation of acts of attaining by accusing
Is every accusation and blame
Proven fully lame
So let our children be real
Within the supervision in steel
Of whomever happens to be around
Through never failing to teach a child
Who is accusing them
All in it together
One big mess of accusations
Makes our children only safe when
Conscious of their own consequences in the world
For each child’s own choice
Of who supervises their daily play
That is the child’s own world’s daily work grind
Will prove to be what we find
Enables the degree of forgiveness in mind
That when the child’s choice
Is prevented blamed and defamed
Those who so lame the child’s own deciding mind
Will their own selves find their nature to be
The doers of every blame


Upon My Word

All these words here you see
That I write about me
And about you also
Whoever you may be
Whose life abides in this same story
These words which are in me
Have their strength in
The real sequence
Of original events
About which these words here
Might detail to your inner ear
But to beware
Beware the word unheard
Unheard also of your own outside ear
Since the meaning has the key in it
Of need to find original cause
And whole lengths
Of each real life sequence
To be sure of
What is the
Real meaning
You might just need
Remember your own true life story
Even if through me



Shade

In the shadow of shade
God knows what they made
Was a lie about how they
Might have successfully
Ripped off me

For the shade is when
We might not have known then
But of whose accepting
The transition
Of hell is to lend

But they who accuse
Of no sunlight to abuse
Just might as well lie
Since without today’s light
Will nobody realise what is right

Which might just be why
The rightwing politicians so cry
Of the wrongs within
The shade as though
They themselves know
The sunlight

And yet also they blamed
The sunburnt as though
So defamed
By our will alone to know
Rather than their own blame so
That burns us into their hell thus

What in hell might we tell
Is the reason
For life with no treason
When that to oppose
Is what government without governance shows



After the Election

No money in it
Not because
Labor are in
But because Labor find out
What the Libs had been
Lying about
Will
The truth be
No money
In poetry


The Polling

Politicians
Polling
Police
Which ever you might please
To let be
The Australian police
Oh sho nice yet for the street
Were decided to blame of
Indigenous Islamica
As though all their own insanity
Could be denied by blaming of
Those who in our silent Islam
Indigenous and Australian
Yet unless the police
Admit here their defeat
Through being caught about
The tie I here tell out
Then well it will be
Thoroughly proven
Through every person
In any Australian prison
Since there among
Are many and some
Indigenous
With strong consciousness
Of Islam
All of but
Being raped in the bum
Such that non-believers among
Have found the real sum
And all and sundry
Thus can prove of
The fact that Australian police
Are who have been being
Undermining the economy
Escalating interest rates
All by believing
The lie of no man’s fate
That Islam when indigenous
And Australian
Defines what insanity
Is man
Yet while the American
Indigenous culture
By now defiled and incomplete
Where it fits this story not sweet
Is all pumped up upon
False beliefs in Native American
Status able to prove of
The Prophet of Islam
Yet when the Native Americans
Playing along
Seemed to depend entirely upon
Fishing Australian children
For what is really going on
But realise in this then
That if only we knew what the real problem was
Never might we be needing to ask of
Some return from
The Native American pride story
For its long song
Was never what our own children are best protected from
So let us then
Perhaps just give it to them
The indigenous Americans
For when
We are thus under the duress
Of the police
Feeds to politicians
How can we find anything
But for that we know the police at
Having done among
And to
Our real facts of sun


Can Not But My Lot

I proved I can’t
Escape what he had done
That white man who
Failed in my protection
Yet seems to have won
But by blaming me with what
He didn’t like of me being
Based only upon
That false reputation
I have been forced to shoulder
But could never become
When in fact his real task was
Of me forgiving
But that I can not
Is that I was
Entrapped into
Being what he thought he had got
When what he did was
The election we are winning
Yet but what upon
For his like of fashion
Deserted me to the branding
Of insanity’s landing
That still now it be
The child in me
Who his love demanded of
The acts in the knowledge
Which causes us winning
So best take the fate
Of realisations mate
There seem to be no men who know
How Labor did win the show
But how long can us Aussies wait
For some man to prove
This girl’s fate
For now the election is over
My every verse throws up
Only fuel to hate
How I know it is
That we won mate
So already before had I have had
A better offer than that
Of the man who did me thus here described in will alone dear
To have done what we all now have
The offer that
I could’ve only refused if
Of me he really had had
Known how he has done
What I am at

No comments: