WIN 100 BUCKS IN STORE MERCHANDISE!!

The 13 Kangaroo City Poets are all guests at an out-of-town wedding, and register at the same hotel. Using the Lucky 13 clues and other information within my blogs [click on my profile picture for links] or on the NEBIRU CROSSING Facebook page [remember to ‘like’ it!], determine the order in which the 13 Poets checked in to the hotel. CLEARLY PRINT your answer, using the designated initials of the Poets from the list below, in the order of their arrival, and CLEARLY PRINT your name and mailing address on a postcard, and mail it to 

NEBIRU CROSSING
74—150 Clark Blvd.,

Brampton,  ON,

CANADA L6T 4Y8

If you are unable to solve the logic puzzle, you can enter anyways for a consolation prize, by printing LUCKY 13 instead of the answer on your postcard.

Every participant will receive a small prize in the mail; one person per hundred or part thereof of correct entries will receive 100 Nebiru Bucks redeemable for store merchandise.

THE POETS in alphabetical order by first name:

ARL...Andrea Riel-Lean

BS...Bernhardt Schmidt

HSPF...Helen Saint Paul Franklin

JG...Jaymes Gormann

JDC...John David Caveney

JHM...John Hanley Morgan

KHJ...Karol Hans Jewinski

K...K’lakokum

NJC...Norman Jakob Craven

RD...Rabin Duff

RW...Robbin Warde

SBL...Sydney Barak Lynt

WNM...William Nathaniel Morris IV

LUCKY 13 CLUES:

1] Only one of these statements is not true.

2] A murderer who never wore nylons arrived between poets of the same first initial, equi-distant from woman and priest.

3] The gay ones were first and last to arrive.

4] The 6th arrival has never been in Afghanistan.

5] The Poet who beat Eric at chess arrived close to the middle of the pack.

6] The ordained arrived in alphabetical order.

7] The third “J” to arrive was followed immediately by the fat one who truly weighs an architect and a shaman in number.

8] The Unitarian said grace as Paul started hosting a BBQ before any of the shaman poets arrived.

9] The glassmaker, stargazer, and canoeist arrived in alphabetical order.

10] The red head arrived after all those with “J” in their name.

11] The architect followed immediately the priest.

12] The ‘A’s and ‘E’s of the cook’s name, number his arrival.

13] The last of the “J” poets arrived after the triplets.

TWENTY-ONE TAXI SALUTE

Kangaroo Poet Sydney Barak Lynt is a professional photographer in St.Catharines, Ontario, where he was born and has spent most of his life, and also has a studio in Brampton, Ontario.  One of his many hobbies is Bob Dylan – Syd has attended over 300 Bob Dylan concerts. One of Syd’s quirks is that he refuses to own an automobile.  As a result, he takes a lot of taxis, and has had a special affinity for cab drivers ever since he was one himself while a student at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology.  Many cabbies are moonlighting musicians or starving artists, and Syd collects their music and art.  He also takes up public issues raised by cabbies. The current issue is one raised by Brampton taxi driver Donald Low, who is one of twenty-one cabbies, and the protagonist, named in the poem below.

TWENTY-ONE TAXI SALUTE

A dam, broken only once (the foal

A damsel fair), her mare material goal

A lexicon of all desire and fame:

A runner for her purse – took that same tame

Normal Clydesdale sire first victim of her

Con; radiantly gelding his resource.  He sure

Missed her odd jersey’d ride when whip nor

Jimmy could crack her saddle’s door;

Computer passworded to prevent all re-

Lease, a freshening of any kind.  Will she

Mar your manger’s low feasts, your new

[                                                     ]

Dill on cheese on rye?  “Yes, she is to

    Moan easeily, but never neighing for bust

    Me.  Shell out instead!!  Cussed,

    Roger those fares!  My trip sheets now must

    Surge far fatter furlong funds.”  Just

    Share “E” for “emptied” of that lust

    Stevedore or sailor is said to trust:

    Wend your weary way to dust!

Don Low’s issue is that Revenue Canada no longer accepts legal tender in payment of taxes!  Yes, you got that correct – the Government of Canada no longer accepts its own money!  Taxi fares in Canada include the 6% Goods and Services Tax, which all cabbies are required periodically to turn in to Revenue Canada.  This no-currency policy, implemented by RevCan on August 13, was adopted because of declining volumes of cash payments.  Out of 18.3 million payments received in the first six months this year, only three-tenths of one per cent were made in cash, so RevCan has decided they no longer want to count your cash, in the interests of "improving payment efficiency".  [And they'll also have a paper trail to follow via your cheque to confiscate more of your money.]

Copyright © 2003, Syd B. Lynt    [previously published in South of Tuk]

THE KANGAROO POETS PLEDGE, 1970

We believe that love and knowledge are the twin and intertwined strands of Life, our most precious possession;

that we should mobilize all the forces of creation against all the forces of death;

that voluntary co-operation one choice at a time, rather than competition, is the path for the advance of humanity;

that we should preserve the physical resources of our planet as a heritage for those to follow;

that, in consequence, we should avoid the pollution or destruction of our water, our air, and our own bodies;

from which follows that we shall eat only fresh, natural, pure and wholesome food [spiritual and temporal] free of chemicals and artificial processing, and shall live a simple, natural and creative life-style, absorbing all that we can from the sources of love and knowledge in and around us;

that we shall endeavour to be in harmony with all life;

we specifically agree that we shall live in each other’s thoughts, and freely grant the use of our thoughts from each to all, from all to each;

we believe the advance of humanity begins with each of our individual efforts, each being one necessary part of a whole body;

we believe that whatever is physically possible and morally right can be made financially possible;

we believe in the Fatherhood of God, the Motherhood of Nature, and the Brotherhood of Man

AUGUST 28th: FOR A SON ON HIS BIRTHDAY

AUGUST 28^th: FOR A SON ON HIS BIRTHDAY

your mother was a teen-age single night

a rumour fading fading

to the remembered gleam

the well coming warm wetness

the satin skin

the snow blowing ice hammers

against her pane

where we were both as young and warm and safe

as nursing kittens

that winter day

and i was thinking of rosie it was

her fourteenth birthday

i was thinking of the sound of music

on wholesome okanagan hills

perhaps that’s why

you had her eyes her song your aunt

was the first thing i noticed

in your face

at the detroit airport

first son

when you met me face to face

first time

you were born on goethe’s birthday

on tolstoy’s birthday too

it could have been so significant

to live longer than jesus

if you had not acquired

immune deficiency syndrome

the fourth time face to face

was the face of death

withered and empty

in the soul-less casket

we never knew each other

or of each other

until freedom of information

made us prisoners of curiosity

the state of wisconsin

the province of ontario

co-operatively unraveling

our history

tying the umbilical threads

together for you

you found your mother’s teen-age single night

there was a record

of the rumour fading

drifting out good-bye

you she safe-deposited

and lost the key

i never knew to wonder

but had the magazine

(she was behind yoko ono once

in a photograph)

you wanted a white wedding

and biological assurances

your only yearn

for the missing persons

of your blood

face to face

i thanked frieda and bertholdt

that chose you to be son

doubly german-american

you ate all your vegetables

you hammered your motorcycle

over a cliff

broke half your bones

on river rocks

the red cross blood saved you

for a while

for eight years

until long death was discovered

in the gift of life’s

short aids

face to face alive

three times

about nine hours

five hundred minutes

not enough to be father and son

but longer than the teen-age single night

of snow blowing ice hammers

against her pane

where we were young and warm and safe

as nursing kittens

Copyright © 2000, K’lakokum

The three boys born on August 28, 1968, referred to in the comments at http://nebirucrossing.blogspot.com/2011/03/if-only-apprehended.html

all died tragically.  K’lakokum’s poem refers to his natural son, David Peter Scholtz, conceived November 13, 1967 (the poet’s sister’s birthday).  David was placed for adoption, at birth, by his mother, and was adopted August 31, 1968 by Frieda and Bertholdt Scholtz.   David died of AIDS on April 4, 2000, long after being infected with HIV+ blood in several transfusions which followed a 1988 motorcycle accident in Pittsburgh.