Tuesday, March 18, 2008

THE BELL'S RUNG, I'M POSTED.

LONELY? I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT LONELY.

Comes from years of body surfing, the feeling of utter loneliness and misery of being POSTED and thoughts of sweet revenge.
If I live.
I could AND DID spend several hours body surfing, it was my one and only ‘drug’, possibly with the exception of a little Chardonnay and A wee glass of Resches from NEWPORT ARMS. OH, and nice girl quite night.

Some facts; Avalon Surf Club is real; it was a monumental moment in my life. This organization molded my life, I have never met so many great blokes and good Sheila’s ever. My dear wife Shirley and me commenced our lives from this bastion of camaraderie, it is a world of special people, all with a common goal.

We had two great children, we had good times, then she was gone.

My life is dedicated to Volunteering, OH, and my kids. I assist people by mentoring, I assist people in their personal development. My thought process is sometimes erratic, understand.

If I wander, if you see me wander, bear with me. I began serious writing recently, my fashion is 2nd, 3rd and back to 1st party, my grammar is crap, I search for words.

Again I have digressed, however all of what I write is in my vernacular, help me not to change.

I’M POSTED OUT THE BACK, YOU mongrels.

Avalon Beach, Northern Beaches, Aussie, just one more place that I have been.
Not been there? What a shame, you’ve missed out so let me set the scene.
Just finished patrol washed and packed up all the gear
Must go and join me mates, me dearest mates, the mates I feel so near.
The blokes have been out the back, Maxie, Kegs, Bombhead, Shanks, just to name a few.
Michael, Sprouley and Big Brian would make up the motley crew.

OK, you ALL were all there you mongrels, catchin’ waves and frolicking.
Farls wants a go at them waves and give you guys a bollickin’.

Overcast late afternoon we’re way way out the back, got me flippers, got me hand board and ‘Budgies’ to.
How’s that for an ‘intro folks, and maybe now you will understand what I’m eluding too.

So the ‘keywords’, are overcast and mongrels, and I must have lost me track.
It all comes down to being ‘posted’ way way out the back.

G’day blokes, howsitgoin’ I’ve come to catch a few. And that was my big mistake.
‘Cause at this point I am a marked man, ‘cause self indulgence and my ego, that’s what they will take.

Maxie Watt with no apparent effort, takes of on a right hand curling wave.
His crappy old ply wood hand board takes him in the cave.

Boofhead tries to emulate with his yellow plastic artifac, down the mine arse over head.
And that is life for me, way way out the back.

Some time comes to pass and QY’s beckons all the willing surfers, I don’t notice numbers fleetin’.
I’m out here for a good time not a long time, and the fact not yet known.
Because it won’t be long before “posted out the back” Farls will be a greetin’.

Odd stuff, I finally catch a wave, but, somewhere in the distance I here this strange commotion.
Swimmin’ out I see all the mates on one wave looking up and smiling, farls, the BELL HAS RUNG.
Sorry mate your all alone, your POSTED in this big ocean.

Overcast late afternoon and now your on your own, posted out the back, not a soul out there, the seeds me mates have sown.

I have related OLD WALL EYE, other sharkey bits from my page home, right now they all come back to haunt me, bugger me I’m all alone.

Picture this my dilemma, swimmin’ backwards slowly, gotta’ give the impression of countenance.
But all the time my bladder’s crying, recon it’s called incontinence.

On the shore they will consider, ah, he’s setting up for a wave.
Wrong, you mongrels just getting further from my grave.

You catch a crappy thing, one you would ignore, an ordinary wave and really out of hand.
Head down arse up and your face buried in the sand.

You look up at the Club, there were people watching you, but now their gone.

I’m on the beach, I’m safe, sound, I’m back in town big-time.
Next time I’ll be waiting the call to bail out will be mine.

Wait you bastards because revenge is sweet, next time the bells get rung, I’ll quietly slip away, and next you see me will be yon Surf Club verandah, and now my song is sung.

Dedicated to all AVALON BEACH SURF CLUB members, past and past.

John Farley 2008

Monday, March 17, 2008

IF YOUR IRISH, COME INTO THE PARLOUR

SAINT PATRICK’S DAY.
I had a great day, how was yours.
We sang Irish songs for the ‘older’ boys and girls at the Orthodox home down at Byron Bay. The wonderful ‘girls’ from the Mullumbimby C.W.A. Choir drowned out my voice, that’s good.
Some of the oldies dozed of but you could see their feet tapping. Got a lift home with my ‘EX’, she has decided to join the ladies singing group, that’s good.
Norma the lighthouse keepers wife sang a beautiful rendition of GLOCCA MORA, that’s was real good. I am having a little Chardonnay to celebrate The Irish, ‘spose it should have been a Guinness, that’s bloody good.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

BRUNSWICK BREAKWALLS, I SAW YOU

DID I SEE YOU THIS MORNING?

Remember me; I was riding my old black bike. I had a backpack and my camera ‘round my neck. You bloke had your sandals off, tip toeing along The ROCKY BOARDWALK SOUTH, Brunswick Heads that is.
I envy you, you had a partner, your wife? Your lover? Was it your sister?
Paid the bills and me rent, booked me ticket on the XPT, remember KAI? Now I go to where everybody goes, some place to reflect, to get some respite, to cogitate. The sea and the rocks give inspiration, but don’t worry not for devious things.
Bugger me, you guys nodded first, you smiled and acknowledged me, that’s the philosophy of the “BOARDWALK”
OH, the vista.
Tide is on the ‘make’, lovely greeny blue ocean water rushing upstream, do you see what I see, the rejuvenation and replenishment, or do you see the “Village” as a place for peace and tranquility and somewhere just to go and observe. A thousands words will be your legacy of this wondrous place. You will return.
What do we observe? Lets get the scene in perspective.
A jutting promontory allows us to venture into the realms of our existence, this simple bloke reckons it’s the closest place we get to / from where we evolved. I love the board walk, I love the people.
But I love God, “your God Is my Gods brother”, “my God is my God”, “if my God is my God and your God is your God, and l love both Gods, how does that work?
The all encompassing analogy of the ‘Boardwalk’ is not fiction, it exists, Brunswick Heads is a real place, my spiritual place and you have your place of worship.
My God has many brothers and sisters, a loose comment? We acknowledge there must have been a mother, right? The context of God is life driven, I am a simple person, my God is what we are given and not a person. Respect your God, the philosophy of the Disciples, my God is Mother Nature, man has overlooked the primary drive of creation.

johnfarlsbrunz, john d farley, johnfarls, john farley.

Monday, March 3, 2008

MY NAME'S PETAL, LOVE ME.

Written in Aussie “Bushy” vernacular, some more poems? (http://www.johnfarls.com), BOOFHEADS PROSE.

MY NAME’S Petal, LOVE ME.

My Story.
A blinding flash, I’ve been taken, I’ve met a man with a camera my inner self is shakin’.
Who is my new love, he said “he’s quite unobtrusive”, he wanted to see me at my best.
I’m only a flower but he said, your beauty is heavenly but elusive.
He captured me at my finest time, I was putting on quite a show, my purple dress took his breath away and his face was all a glow.
I let out all my esters, my fragrance flowed and my scent turned his face crimson.
I’m just a flower when’s all is said but I could see he was so winsome
And then he put me in my place, never forget this my dearest love, you are God given and you’re special you’re my purple dove.
He swore he would never take my early morning bloom; he wants me for my inner self and now I feel no gloom.
He is going to make me famous, put me somewhere nice.
But I’ll bet he’s taken many flowers and will I pay the price.
Even so my petals glow and I really turned petite, you’re the one he said and you’ll join my club elite.
He has some friends in a far away place with whom he’d like to share, but I will never forget his blinding flash it’s him my life will share.
He’s placed me in his life’ I’ll be with him forever, I blush deep purple just to think oh he’s so very clever.
He wants to place me in an album and I will be at the centre, that’s the reason I’m blushing now, I’m going to let him enter.

His story;
My gorgeous little petal with purple blush you’ve smitten, an ordinary bloke before you smiled at me my love, is this how love it is written’.
Nothing in my world can compare with your early morning bloom; peace has entered my ordinary life and lifted off the gloom.
I had to capture your wondrous face please forgive my rude intrusion, your stood out like a beacon light my feelings are confusin’.
You tantalized my senses your perfume was matchless so supreme, I love you my Petal dear you have shattered my very bein’.
Sadness strikes now, but I will always see your face, your beauty may fade and die.
I have a special picture all my days will have, we had a lovely interlude, a love story you and I.
With your permission can I introduce you too some very special friends, GO smelltheflowers wants to meet you, they live in a far away place.
Petal, they want to meet you, greet you. Will you share with them your face?
Remember this my little bloom they offer you no harm, ‘cause they love flowers without equal, so unique.
I adore you now beyond compare, see you soon little purple bloom until next time that we speak.
John Farley, AKA johnfarlsbrunz 2008.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

NGARIGO BLOKES, MY SPECIAL PLACE

Bega, Bega Valley, Tathra. We took, we plundered. And yet a simple bloke believes the visions of a Special Place mean many things to many people. He believes he saw.

MINE, ANYBODY’S REALLY. MOON BAY LIVES.

What’s that bloke about this time, he must be very odd.

He ain’t done anything important, and does he have a god?

Well let’s humor him a little ‘cause we got some time to spare.

Tells me he’s got a secret place, a place he want’s to share.

The ordinary bloke, forgive him Bruce, but that’s how he comes out.

You won’t know his name today and he says that’s no great loss, he is the bloke, he is your Aussie lout.

He wants you to accept some things, like, girls and boys are real and liven.

The Aussie bloke, he reckons, can be both, just the name you’re given.

What’s that? I hear him say, “prose and poetry, rhymes and stuff, wish I could say it’s gay”.

“Tried to write my story but the truth got in the way”.

He wants to mention, Woolloomooloo, Palmer Street, Bundamar and Boonoke. Brunswick Heads and Avalon, but the brain has given no joy.

How many words rhyme with Woolloomooloo, except, the paper boy?.

But before you fall of you twig and head of for a bite, come and meet him down at MOON BAY, YOU WILL SEE HE’S RIGHT.

Give a little, OK, come on back, there’s room for all of us.

Remember, you were young and vital, johnfarls you can trust.

So, for a short time down tools, and dream, join his special club.

Why not come and join this simple man we’ll meet you at the TATHRA PUB.

We’ll wander down to MOON BAY, swim, close your eyes and see.

Nobody will see the visions, only you and me.

There will be other people there; a young boy will point them out.

Look and listen, wave and smile, please don’t yell, you will understand.

Those black people are misty visions, we are standing on their land.

Can you see him waving smiling, that’s him, but he’s just a kid and now I understand.

I think he’s troubled by constant visions of standing on sacred sand.

Don’t wave back and make a fuss just ponder what should be?

Ngarigo blokes and babies still live here, close your eyes selected people, close your eyes and see.

You’ll never forget that black bloke, a spear with deadly aim that fish he’ll show no quarter.

On one leg he’ll be there for ever more aiming at the water.

OH, he almost forgot, the place is not for us to touch, because you’ll be in real time.

You must understand, you were there, MOON BAY IS IN DREAMTIME.

What’s that? white blokes can’t see the misty visions, well maybe I agree.

But he was young, yet he reckons, for a moment, those black blokes let him see.

Thank you NGARIGO BLOKES, South Coast NSW. Did you give me a Special Dreamtime Place?