BRUNSWICK HEADS, the rocky boardwalk, south.

BRUNSWICK HEADS, THE ROCKY BOARDWALK, SOUTH.
Collect my thoughts, block out stigma, block out all we give to this very odd enigma.
Only a bastion, rocks and dirt it’s built, protects us from encroaching ocean.
But if you need some inner peace, solicitude, just a talk, the wall, well it’s got the potion.
The talk, that’s the thing we need, mostly need in daily life.
Brunz wall is the place for peace and peace of mind, it helps you with your inner strife.
The talk, all inner emotions, troubled head will be explained. Go there stay a while; shed a tear I do often go.
For many reasons, for many people the break wall.
Watch the ocean ebb and flow.
On any day I ride my bike, camera is my extension, mostly calm but when I’m not it’s the place to off load all your tension
This rocky promontory extension of our being will suddenly evolve into a village, puzzled, I will wager this.
Then take a stroll meet some folk, nod your head, and a smile wont go amiss.
Many days I’ve spent along this rocky boardwalk Brunz, people visit from all over to join the little village.
Village?, how is this so, must explain my wisdom, give a reason well.
There’s no village square, no church, no shops and there is no wishing well.
Well, do we need the accouterments’, only people fill the need, any day there are these people, any race or creed.
How about Mohammed, not the real bloke I hesitate to say, no it’s our little Malaysian fisherman, he’ll be there on any day.
Now he loves a chat Mohammed does, and he has some words of sense.
He don’t cares who he addresses, everyone, and he don’t sit on the fence.
His god will be your god, because nature is his yearning.
Take what you need, feed your kin and friends, his wisdom will get your mind aware, your intellect will start churning.
This wise man on the wall is one of daily folk, just like me he’s not important, he’s an ordinary bloke.
This rocky village square will have its share of sorrow, it’s based on life will be.
Village people live and die here, sorrow and pain of departed loved ones given to the sea.
So when you visit our rocky village some won’t know it exists in time, spare a thought that ere you be, this place is yours and mine.
Come and enjoy the solicitude, look for the villagers, please take time to think.
You the rocky villagers will be new friends in a blink.
Nod your head and raise your hand, and if your eyes can shimmer, smile a bit start up a chat and you’ll be on a winner.
Look for a bloke on an old black bike, he’s got a huge compulsion, you smile at me, give a nod I’m all over you like emulsion.
Brunswick Heads, the rocky boardwalk, south, there is a village square.
Only friendly people are welcome to come to visit here, but that’s not really fair.
We respect your station and we’ll do our best try us out, we will brighten right you up.
And that’s our rocky dare.

THE ROCKY BOARDWALK, BRUNZ SOUTH WALL

I have nodded, winked, acknowledged, spoken and had many experiences on BRUNSWICK HEADS, South Wall. I have witnessed many tragic events, I know of many many others.
And yet it is a meeting place, a village square, a place where people from all corners of the earth come to envisage it's serenity, some times peace, some times upheaval.
A lovely couple from CRABBES CREEK were my latest Boardwalk friends. I have many more, they have many more.
Youknowwhatscominganothercrappypoem, thisonewillexlimplify, howweneedtogreetstrangers, your god is my god, regards john f.

BRUNSWICK HEADS, the Breakwalls.

THE WEATHER HAS BROKEN, no. The first 2 days in a row without rain in 7 weeks, check out: (http://picasaweb.google.com/johnfarlsbrunz/, BRUNSWICK HEADS Breakwalls. Now that's surfing my 'Geek' friends.

JOHN FARLEY, prose and poetry

I going to throw my hand in and have a go at prose.
The puritans will throw their hands up, I guess he is permitted, make a stand.
He has been an honest person all over he has traveled, far and wide, well in Australia.
What’s the criteria here, tell a story, make a rhyme, is that where what it resides.
OH, bugger, first mistake, will have another go at something peaceful; my brain wants an art form.
Where can this come from, all I have ever known is lower class, my family, we are people, world is big now.
What a comment, forgive me kin, the very best poets have lived a life, have a world within.

So here’s my prose.

Waves, bred by hidden force ocean waves, ground swell waves, heaving falling will we understand the magnitude, the power is magnetic in its wisdom, contemption and relentless.
We watch with envy, crashing bashing, sometimes grinding, our precious earth.
Watch that beautiful flowing motion, powerful, intrinsic, our earth.
Did we come from here, where we born from, can we make some sense, it has mystic presence, a wild dark presence.
Watch the power, the sound, spectacular, eruption, the vented spume, it sprays and surges.
Feel eons of life, life back, is it saying we are, we were, God has been here, legacy, my God your God.
Waves, beautiful motions in time, watch in awe the blessings, we live here, we love here, this place, the ocean.
Waves, endless, preoccupation. Our world has known this image, this vista beauteous face, waves were born well before the human race.

Couldn’t help myself, I’m gonna take lessons.

THEY CALLED HER MOOSEFACE

Johnfarls.com, AKA; johnfarlsbrunz, AKA; john d Farley. Many schools, many places. Ordinary bloke.

THEY called her Mooseface.

A little place called Coolah, not far from Ulladullah is where this Rhyme took place, went to school but they had the gall to give this gal, the awful name of Mooseface.
To this day, I will tell you now, never will they be forgivn’, she was so pretty, a small boys friend, could she beat them swimmen’?
I’ll leave this for a moment ‘cause the thoughts are coming back, school days, yeah, where the rhyme took place and how we got the sack.
Holidays are fast approaching a farmer makes a show, boys, you want some pocket money, well picken’ beans will be your go.
Well what a rotten job this is, pick beans by the bushel bag, I’ll tell you now this jobs’, and I’ve had some, will be the worst I’ve ever had.
Oh yeah got the sack not the ‘bullet’ as implied it seems, from early morn to late of day we’d fill the sack with beans.
I’ve told a fib, forgive my glib may I give honest foray straight, ‘cause next paddock was filled with melons the plan was to make up weight.
Do I Need to tell you, melon skins, and your right. At the bottom of sack they go, that gave the weight a freight.
The plan was good and full of thought, but folks, them and me we got the call back. The boys from Coolah School, bean pickers we’re no more, them and me, we got that bullet, it’s called, ‘don’t come Monday’ sack.
My mind is jolted, school friends and swimming pals, Mooseface gave me charm, school friends and swimming pals, why did they wish her harm.
Been to many many schools, Coolah wouldn’t be the last, we moved from here Mooseface cried, and so it came to pass.
My rhymes will not contain many elements of fiction, sometime later all those boys came down with a mysterious affliction.
Mooseface she was so cute, your taunts will grow to rue, never put down people who are not as perfect as you.

500,000 dollars, want 25%?

My popularity may have dropped off recently, “GRUMPY OLD BLOGGER” etc.
WANNA KNOW WHY; $500,000 TIMES TWO, THAT’S WHY.
My last post was to take the heat of your guys, INTENTIONAL BRAGGING, SUPPLY OF PERSONAL INFORMATION, drawing the attention away from you. But it has brought results, they respect me out there. You know why? Personal details that’s why.
YES I HAVE RAPED THE FRUITS OF MY LABOURS’ You can thank me by giving me, in return, your personal BANKING DETAILS YOU WILL BE ON 25% OF MY WINNINGS. YAHOO, that’s right, Y H BLOODY H O O is my benefactor. All because I was honest.
If you have reached the heights of personal interference, you will go blind. I am an intentional stirrer, but an old bugger just the same. DON’T IT MAKE YOU FEEEEEL GOOD la la la.
PS: When I was a young bloke I would have welcomed a POPUP BLOCKER on the 190 Bus to AVALON, now I turn it down to -15%, I think it’s broke.
PPS: ANYBODY ELSE GET THESE EMAILS, http://www.johnfarls,com

PANCHO ME DOG, ME DOG PANCHO

I’m trying my poems out on your guys first. No comments from previous must mean; no news is good news.
Some where in johnfarls BLOGS is some rhyming prose, there is a reference to PANCHO ME DOG, anybody’s dog actually.
I had bought a milk run at AVALON BEACH, this story commences in the first weeks;
ME DOG PANCHO, PANCHO ME DOG.
What possessed me, this is midnight and blowin’, I’m all alone in me old ‘J’ van so let the repartee start flowin’.
I am all alone, but not for long, because a ‘creature’ comes from the gloom, it’s tail is wagging bigtime
He’s brown and black, his nose is wet, me names Pancho he says, you and me will have a goodtime.
For two years me dog and me our clients we would call on, all over Avalon we wandered, “cats”, said Pancho.
From now on there’s a war on.
I must tell you that I never knew Pancho’s parent’s or from whence he came, he really was not Pancho, it’s the term we agreed on, early in the game.
God we did some good stuff, it whiled away the time and more, we shared my sangers, drank ‘our’ milk, told stories by the score.
We can relate those bloody black ghosts down in Avalon Parade, and out of the windy night they came.
Can you forget how calamitous you were, barkin’, fretful was your go, Pancho what’s your game.
These six young blokes are on a mission, you guys are sworn by word, you and Pancho will say naught, our you will get the sword.
We sit in the gutter and have to settle down, our Commandos me and Pancho, share some milk, discuss the plan before Torpedo Base their bound.

THIS IS THE SHORT STORY, PANCHO AND ME RELATES MORE STORIES, HE RECONS you BLOGGERS might need a break.