Melbourne Story

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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Apr 23, 2014 8:54 am

Early Days

It's Friday night. We're in the old bungalow, at my mum's place, a little before midnight. We finish our cigarettes, take a swig of cordial. I turn 'Truly' on the record player, I trip over your black bag, then lay back down. I hold your wet naked body, the February heat is palpable, but you breathe easy. In the morning we will head to Yarrawonga to see your nan. We'll take my grey Corolla, up the Hume, a two hour drive. We may swim in Lake Mulwala, I'll be sure to cross the state line from Victoria to New South Wales and back again - just to say I did. We'll play "500", drink lots of tea, look at old photoes. You take my hand, hold it tight, place it on your thigh. We kiss, you stop. You hold my hand again. You ask me, in a serious tone, "How much do you love me?" I tell you, "Around the world to Eternity." You giggle.

I wasn't kidding.
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Apr 23, 2014 8:59 am

Latter Days,

It is Saturday, sometime in Winter, 1993. And I've just driven from the beach to our house in Eltham. You are not home. The dog is inside, the cat somewhere. I am so angry. I walk around the front, I just want to get inside. You see, it is my home, too. Why should you have it all? Just who are you? I pick up a brick, or maybe it was a stone, or a stick. I couldn't could I? Stuff it, stuff you, I smash a window. I stop. I walk to the front door. Smash, smash, smash! A splinter of glass hits me in my cheek. I stop, it is enough. I am bleeding. I see the dog wagging his docked tail madly. I reach in, unlock the door and let him out. I go inside. Just then you roll up in your fancy $6000 Ford. The one we payed your parents back for. You are hysterical. Obviously you ring the police as they are there in fifteen minutes. You ring my parents, my brother. They are there, too. The police have me around the back, near our old garage. They ask me a question and I start dancing telling them bout the future and what not. They don't listen. My Mum explains to a constable that my name is on the lease, too. That we shared the rent. On that they decide I am not criminal and tell my folks to take me to hospital. They drive me in Dad's red car, I am just so happy to see my Mum and Dad 'together'. I'll never see it again, I hadn't seen it in so long. And so, to hospital I go, for the wrongs committed by you, by the many - I'm paying their dues, just doing their time.

In the final analysis, Dad pays for the windows, the dog is still wagging his stump of a tail and you, you are scared, you hate my guts. You hate me to this day. You despise the very thought of me. But you love me.
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Apr 23, 2014 9:08 am

9th of November, 2005

Matt*,

I agree with you. All over this crazy world the rich are getting richer. The conservative government in Australia is for wealth. I imagine it is the same in the States. When America, with all her might, change the face of Earth, do you think it will be money that is driving her? Indeed, how do you know what sort of government will be there? Matters have come to a head. It is time for the people to take power. It is time for a real connection with G-d. And it is time to play more Zimmerman!

There's a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. And there is a crack in the U.S.A, a crack in the Universe. This mess we find ourselves in today will be tomorrow's distant memory. We'll save as much as possible. There will be pain, as most change hurts, but Love will win. It always does. Prepare; for tomorrow brings a new day - a song of Hope. Where people shall dance as one under one flag.

In peace

Boss

* Not mat james

------

'Underdog' Recording - Early 2012

In the early 60's President John F Kennedy said this to America and the World: "And so my fellow Americans ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the World ask not what America will do for you but what together we can do for the freedom of Man." He was right for it will be together we'll find the freedom of Man. But it will be America in the forefront of this pursuit, America again. You have the range and the machinery for change and you have the passion - the spiritual zeal. It won't come out of $150 million presidential candidates, it will come out of the people's heart and soul. I pray for you, America as I pray for this World. Our World so plagued by hostility and hatred, so embittered in pain. It is to you America I charge - the onus is on you. Clean up this planet. Indeed change the World for the freedom of Man. Change it for every living soul. Put G-d's House in order. And one more thing, it will be from the grassroots, the guts of your land. Not your Hollywood and diamonds. It is coming from the people.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Thu Apr 24, 2014 5:27 pm

I wrote the following poem in Winter, 2003. It was Boss's very first post on the LCF on the 16th of May 2005.

I Read Yours Once

I drink coffee with two dogs
the heater makes its whining noise
I have a couple of friends
a pair of old moccasins
a digital watch you bought me
it's so out of date
some extra pounds from over the years
a caravan
two folders full of poems
many of late to you
a cold winter's day cursing my back
a family half gone
old books
old clothes
chipped teeth
and old love
I have Elgar Puchabel and Cohen
the new Simply Red album
a memory of David Suzuki
the forgotten forests and more
I have cheap cigarettes
cheap bourbon offering 440 ml a can
endless war on BBC and CNN
tacky hype on radio
football gods
and movie stars
I read books about the human ape
how the chimpanzee is our brother
and books about G-d
the ceaseless yearning
the oneness of all

I notice children in the plaza
buying and selling like their parents
learning the tricks of the trade
learning obedience and deceit
and when to know the difference
I notice prestige cars glide by
into empty garages
loaded down with debt
that explodes into mortgage
holiday
new kitchen
diamond ring

I listen to love songs and dedications at night
to see if you are there
I reminisce
stretching my imagination
I remember the good times
and I have ample food
and drink
shelter
and a warm bed
who could want more?
six billion others write this poem
on different pages
I read yours once
but oh how it's changed
a bird she sings sweetly
a melodious song
I think of you
a stranger now
but you know her song
you heard it this morning
and you know that same stretch of sky
blanketing us
that same wine
same dance
we are not so separate
in our day of routine and nonsense
our curiosities read of the same book

I have aged and mellowed
but I still fear death
and those inexplicable forces of nature
that no one can control
not even in our insulated world of today
this empire of certainty
our laws set in concrete
yet something wild lives
it knows of thunder and the hunt
of anger
of making love

And I have read the stars
tried Tarot
even amateur psychics
they don't take me to you

a distant memory
soft
waiting
is all I need

-----

I've been hanging about here for just about nine years. I have completed 900 posts - about 100 a year. I've enjoyed my stay here; it has been colourful, at times it has been quiet. But I find it is time for this Boss to hang up his boots for a very long stretch of time. I'm going on a long, long service leave. I think I have added an adequate footprint in the cyberspace sphere to now.

I would deeply like to thank the members for the many, many hours of pleasure I've found in reading your posts. I thank you also for reading my work and for contributing your thoughts. I hope you got something out of me. Thank you. For those of you who hate me (and I know there are a few) I'm sorry for that. I think all of us have been feeling our way in our own inimitable styles - egos are bound to clash.

As for me, I go where the wind takes me, I search out love. I try and know G-d

Shabbat shalom,

Goodbye,
Boss
Cate
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Cate » Fri Apr 25, 2014 8:51 pm

Thank you Boss for all sharing your thoughts, poems and time over these years. Thank you especially for the openness with which you have spoken. I have great respect for how your have allowed yourself to be vulnerable in many of your pieces. There are a great many paths left to travel and I wish you well during your journeys. As a writer Boss you rock and I hope to see more of your work over time, as a person Adam I’ve learned a great deal from you. I feel like I’ve gotten a peek at the world from another person’s eyes and that different perspective is a great gift.

with warm regards and best possible wishes,
Cate
imaginary friend
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby imaginary friend » Wed Apr 30, 2014 4:32 am

Dear Boss,
I only visit the Forum sporadically these days, have just read your goodbye post.

For weeks I've meant to come back here and respond to your eulogy for your Dad and your tribute to Leonard. But I couldn't quite find the words to adequately express the warmth and surprise that those two pieces stirred.

I too, admire your courage and your writing. I hope you find Jackie again, or that some lovely woman finds you and wraps you tight in the love that you deserve.

Thank you. I will miss your posts and presence here. Hope you'll be back. xo
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Aug 06, 2014 8:10 am

O baby I waited
so long for your kiss,
for something to happen,
oh something like this.


Twenty two years
twenty two brutal years.

Your cute song
does little now.
Just this wasted expanse
of dead life
and unrelenting pain,
this sickly confusion.

Yet still I see her
coming.
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Aug 06, 2014 2:51 pm

Twitter Version

My memory of you
all feint lines.

Just a wasted expanse
of dead life
and unrelenting pain -
this sickly confusion

Still I see you
coming
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Fri Aug 08, 2014 2:29 am

This is a strongly edited version of a poem I posted here on the 3rd of July, 2011. It has a new title courtesy of Charlie Chaplin and Bob Dylan.

Modern Times

The cancer eats at us
Our greedy dead world
Honour is handcuffed
No peace flag unfurled

It’s the reason for war
Often hidden from view
It's the pain Bangalore
All the rich have no clue

There's terror on trains
The economic blues
There's acid like rains
And our animals lose

We laugh it off smug
It won’t affect me
They spy and they bug
They will not concede

They clear everglades
The burger beef roams
And violence the taste
In our desperate homes

A ring on her finger
Her nails done in plastic
The loans they will linger
But her perm is fantastic

Instead of repent
You board an airliner
Your guilt is all bent
Your truth made in China

The government leader
He plays with her soul
He says he will feed her
From the emptiest bowl

Of the rich we make kings
Our queen Lady Ga Ga
For the lonely she sings
Like a Frankie Sinatra

And we read of their lives
Wouldn’t miss it for quids
And we're left to surmise
Murdoch's takeover bids

The time it runs fast
The businessman kicks
From his ignoble past
Comes our popular fix

Living prophets sing out
Hear nothin' on I-pod
No pressure or doubt
We think we can buy God

And Dylan and Cohen
And Morrison confess
They know we are goin’
To some cultural distress

But you scoff in the comfort
Of your California beach
The shofar it trumpets
The pain that won't cease

And I tell myself this
Little rich man accrue
You’re in the abyss
In the law of the new

The answer’s not ready
Your dream is all mute
Your judgement unsteady
See, the poor get the loot

Our culture will fail
Sure as earth orbits sun
The critical detail
Is how it shall come

The lord ain't for greed
He's a bird on the wire
He'll spread all the seed
And then wipe out the liar

May you find 'it' this weekend,
Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Sep 03, 2014 12:17 pm

For Dad

This message hasn't been written to be shouted over rooftops. It hasn't been written for loud poets drinking to excess. It hasn't been written to be stuffed into letter boxes. It hasn't been written for the privileged or profane. It hasn't been written as a recycled email. It hasn't been written for the bourgeois in Toorak. It hasn't been written for the supermarket special at $9.95. It hasn't been written for those calling me a Yid or a Mick or a Wog or a Wingnut or a Coon or an Abo. It hasn't been written for those who can't see that evolution and G-d are integrated. It hasn't been written for all the broken promises since Peter denied his lord. It hasn't been written for the military, for any weapon of violence. It hasn't been written for secret police and their satellites in the sky. It hasn't been written for the queen of England and her progeny. It hasn't been written for Islamic State and its ideals. It hasn't been written for taxation or superannuation. It hasn't been written for Hollywood and all its glitz. It hasn't been written for a conqueror's lines dissecting a globe. It hasn't been written for the ten wealthiest people on Earth. It hasn't been written for those psychological giants Adler, Klein, Piaget. It hasn't been written for the Lunar seas or Saturn's rings. It hasn't been written for Superman and kryptonite. It hasn't been written for popular Americanisms like 'awesome' or 'dude'. It hasn't been written for Adolf Hitler or Mao Tse Tung. It hasn't been written for infuriating adverts at 11pm. It hasn't been written for political babble and ineptitude. And it hasn't been written for 100,000 fans at the Melbourne Cricket Ground.

This message has been written for five or six readers.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Wed Sep 03, 2014 12:23 pm

Jez

He was thirty when he passed. His name was Jeremy but he never liked it. Somewhere in his twenties he deed polled it to Jez. He was my only younger sibling. He had a condition known as neurofibromatosis. Born with it. At the end of his life he reckoned to me he had twenty seven procedures or operations. Cancer got him. But he didn't like talking about his illnesses like I am now. So I'm not going to. He was mad for sport. He was in the Hawthorn Hawks cheer squad. Saw them win five AFL premierships. He sometimes held the run through banner up before the game. I'm pretty sure he went to the footy even on chemo. He captained North Balwyn reserves in cricket and nearly won the grand final. He was brave, bravest man I ever knew. Jez loved animals. Mice, galahs, dogs, cats, ducks, fish. My dog Buddy had a sister. Her name was Ishka. A black shepherd husky cross. Beautiful dog. Jez taught her tricks, a breeze to walk. He got her in 1995. He died in 2001. Then Mum and I took over. You know Jez was extremely close to both Michael and Esther. Now all of them are together with Dad. When I came back from overseas in'93 I found life bloody awful. I didn't have the girl anymore and the wheels fell off. For much of the time I lived with Jez and Mum in an old house my Babi (grandma) begged my Mum to live in. We used to frequent The Harp Hotel. We drank Jim Beam, played pool, did some karaoke, eyed off women. We sang to American Pie and Dylan's Hurricane. At three was closing time. We used to walk home about half a mile. Laughing, watching the late trams glide by, just being free. One time I lost my licence for drink driving. I never forget it. I was engaged to a beautiful soul by the name of Diana. We lived a little while away in Ivanhoe West. Jez had a fairly pronounced limp as they had to cut his sciatic nerve to get a cancer. For ten months he came every morning, picked me and my trailer and mowers up and we went to work. I still remember him, thin as, wearing his bottle green overalls, pushing that mower, weeding that weed and the hamburger and Coke afterwards. And the ciggie. His nieces adored him. We all loved Jez. It has been so long since my little brother Jez gave a smile, or had the guts to tell someone twice his size what he thought. In mid '97 I got kicked in the head about four or five times at a party. I did not fight back. Little Jez jumped on the guy, got hit in the eye, his glasses went flying. The fight stopped. I never forgot it. That was the sort of guy my brother was. I think having such a difficult life just forced or propelled his courage, his fearlessness. He didn't want to die, he was so entrenched in living. I got his room. Even right now as I write I am laying on his bed. I look up and see his ceramic eagle next to my trophies. He loved eagles and Indians and gherkins and McDonalds. He loved the majesty that is life. When I get down and sometimes lose hope I think of Jez. And I think of his spirit and his fire. I miss him. I miss his tenacity. I miss his love.
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Thu Sep 04, 2014 3:08 am

Nonsense Poem

Flotsam and jetsam
All in my head
Apple turnover
It cannot be said
Broccoli sunrise
A tense tambourine
A nail & a pinprick
The desert serene
Momma & Papa
A daffodil song
Train to Treblinka
So definitely wrong
Towers of glass
A head in the sand
Jiminy Crickets
The tucker is bland
Nonsensical poem
The fizz of a Coke
The smell of tobacco
A retrograde bloke
Fish in the river
Gelati in Spring
Orange & yellow
Combustible zing
Diligent toddler
A smile & a pout
Transient soul
She has no doubt
Popcorn & chips
A last stand hurrah
The tears of a mate
The love of a star
Wisdom denied
Yesterday's notes
Cinnamon donuts
Red sailing boats
Television hype
A leopard in Asia
Timber & steel
Our Dawnie Fraser
The death of an ant
A big ball of string
Elephant tusks
The copper & tin
Football supporter
Submarine splash
A bit of Obama
Bangers & mash
Your gardener's dog
Rhinoceros horn
Lavender scent
The galaxies born
Religion or bust
A lawyer in France
C'mon my darling
Let's have a dance
Attila the Hun
Beatlesque noun
Black moccasins
Perfectly round
Innies and outties
Didgeridoos
Apollo eleven
Black leather shoes
Cup full of coffee
Syracuse salt
Brandenburg Gate
Cool Usain Bolt
Retractable head
Moon full of white
End of the road
Rebellion at night
Time to make sense
The logical zone
End up this poem
So far from home
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Boss
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Re: Melbourne Story

Postby Boss » Sun Sep 07, 2014 3:22 am

Bits and Pieces

One lie can lead to a world war. Two can lead to extinction. But the simple truths of love and justice can bring all manner of healing and peace. But I don't think you came to this thread to read that and lo and behold be transported or transfixed by it. You probably came here to read classic Boss going off his nah nah about some ex-girlfriend or a nonsense poem or a beautiful sibling. This same Boss fellow has been holed up and on hold for many years. I remember when I was really small, about four, going to the Melbourne Zoo and going to the elephant enclosure. There were fences and concrete. For two big elephants there was just no space. Back and forth they walked. Back and forth. I have been one of those elephants for so long. Imprisoned by a dream, a promise. In August '88 I got two tickets. One I used in November '92 to leave Australia. Soon after, I lost the girl. I came back early May '93 to loneliness and confusion - a bloody nightmare of epic proportions. I hounded the girl, wrecked my life, I lost it. Then I befriended a lass, got serious, it broke down. I knew hospital rooms, screaming mania, black depression, ECT, suicide attempts and medications that would floor you. I learnt all the trials and tribulations of family life, and death. I hibernated for twenty odd years - an elephant pacing back and forth - to the lounge room, to the bedroom and back. Till I didn't hardly know what I was pacing for. I just wanted a reprieve. Still to this day it hasn't arrived, so still I pace. But I lie less often than when I was twenty. To me that is achievement way above all the phoniness I put out or the money I could have saved. Also, I laugh more now. And, although it may be hard to believe, I am less bitter. Now, I just want to settle down with a woman and have a house in Hurstbridge and catch the 7.23 to Melbourne each day and get to work. I don't want to start no world war, I don't want to be a part of any extinction. I figure if you don't lie, everything else is better for it. The way to stop is by putting your faith in love. And by knowing a world that is fair, that is just. With a bit of imagination you can tap into that even now.

The second ticket lays folded in a drawer, neatly under my socks.
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Boss
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Re: 1 year, 2 months, 2 days

Postby Boss » Mon Sep 08, 2014 4:19 am

To you today
May you rest in peace

And to your sister:
http://youtu.be/aVLonpBtkH0

Adam
Cate
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Re: 1 year, 2 months, 2 days

Postby Cate » Mon Sep 08, 2014 4:45 pm

Under socks is always a good place to keep things of importance.

Isn't it weird how time goes by; for some parts of our lives 20 years slips by like the click of our fingers - it still feels so close in proximity, but other parts of our lives (even things that happened last week) seem so far ago. Laughter is a wonderful gift Adam and I'm so happy to hear that you are laughing more now. You may have already seen this but here's is the skit in which Robin Williams gives his 'you’re only given a little spark of madness', speech. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wr9ZDDXUWUM

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