Johnny. how are you, mate?
I just wanted to have a chat; I know you are a family man, and are busy. Its just that it is good to have a mate to chat to, someone you admire and respect. . I do not push yourself, save your resources for things that count. Mate, let no-one ever underestimate the love between men. Here in Australia, and where I come from, a very brutal place, we, like to call it respect. Though in the world, I come from respect is underlined by violence and fear. I was a boxer; I have fought in the ring; it was only amateur, but I know how time is stretched out, how one second becomes an hour, one minute an eternity.
In my life, I have seen death and smelt it too, but the smell was sweet. It was the dried blood of the woman I loved more than myself. Her soul was with me; she said “it looks terrible”; I could do nothing else but lift the pillow, on which her head had laid for sixteen days, and raised it to my lips. It had only dried blood and some dried brains on it, so I raised to my mouth and kissed it, then said: "I have smelt the smell of death and found it to be sweet, for Kali takes the body but not the soul". It was not too bad the body was not there, but the bed was soaked in dried blood, all the way through the mattress. Her blood, her life, yet there she was with me, though I could not see her, i knew she was there. It was horrible yet, now I look back on it, 5 years later, it was beautiful. I will tell you the whole story, but not now; I trust you, I love you - do not tell me why? I do not really know. I do not love as I would a women. No, that is something between a man and a women. Something very different. To some men it is not, but not men like us. It is a relationship base on mutual trust, and respect. This respect, however, is not based on fear, but something different. In Australia, we have many ideals, none of them we live up to. One of those ideals is to be a mate. It l was forged on the battlefield. I have never seen such horror as the battlefield, thankfully. I just managed to be young enough. Vietnam. I thank my lucky stars that I was not born a few years earlier. Of course, as every man must, I too, wonder if I would I have been up to it - to stare death in the eye, and yet remain defiant.
I will never know. I have faced death in the back-streets; i have faced men, that when they say, "your dead", they mean it, but not the real thing - the battlefield.
I will leave it here for now, mate; I will continue this conversation later. I know you will read it, that is enough;in time, I know you will answer me; Do not worry about that; I do not have a family, that is why I need a mate to listen to me. That is enough.
-------------------------------------------------------------- until later my friend,
john.
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
mate, if I am getting too much, tell me; "say, hey fuck wit, piss off; i have no time for this bullshit, and this talk of masculinity", and i will understand. Masculinity, what is it? I do not know, do you Johnny? You have faced the fire and did not yield. Johnny, what is it to be a man? Myself i have felt that it is to never yield. I come from a brutal place, not like war, but if you were not able to give out brutal punishment to another, then you were not considered to be a man. I have struggled with this question for a long time, and still i can not understand - what is it to be man? To face death unflinchingly, like the Samurai with a sword that will cut a man in two with one stroke; to see the head of your enemy fly through the air, then to see the eyes move and glance at you, so accusingly. I do not know. Life is always sacred, but we as men are trained from birth to never yield. I do not know, to you Johnny?
I will continue our conversation even if it is one way; and if I get to be too much tell me, johnny. I am just a lost soul, I think like you. johnny, I just need a mate to talk to; Johnny I know I have no right. look after the things that matter. but johnny, I know you are a man like me; johnny, maybe you have had enough of masculinity. I will not blame you for that; family comes first; I understand that, but johnny, I need a mate. So if I am getting out of line tell me mate; you do not have to answer, just knowing you are there means everything to me, mate. I do not want to fuck you, Johnny; that I have had in plenty; with women, of course. I know what a man is - no mystery there; and I love mystery, a woman' s soft touch, it is mysterious, takes one to places; the love between men is different yet the same, but different. If, Johnny, if I am raving on like a fool, it is only because I trust you. I know you will straighten me out and say, "Hey mate, that is not it, that it is not it, that is not it at all; This is how it is", and I will listen, because I trust you; Why? because I have read your work and found something there. Perhaps, it is in my mind. Life is like that, is it not, johnny.
Well mate, I guess it is time to leave it for now; I am so drunk I can hardly see the screen, but think about it maybe you know, and I do not -- tell me Johnny what is this thing or something else, that is forced upon us, and we must yield to it but nothing else, not even death; what is this concept, what is this phantom, what is this ghost that haunts us - what is masculinity? What is it to be man?
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
I have been down back one ways
I have faced the odds
Within, those without too.
Joe, john, johnny, or hello Joe.
I have know hunger
the odds within me
Would always get me, Joe
hello, Joe.
"It hurts when a mate dies
Does it not ?".
all our dreams are fading
Sometimes, I do not
Want to be here,
Joe;
I have always been a lonely poet,
an exile, a stranger to myself,
Or what I was expected to be.
This nation was baptized in blood
in Turkey.
Some we look up for failures;
Ned Kelly, Les Darcy,
Lenny McPherson,
Turkey;
Joe.
I raise my glass again to the God Dionysus
The God of the vine
who taught us to turn the fruit of the vine
into wine.
What you you think,
the land of the brave and free is it fading?
“The Leaves of Grass”,
Billy Holiday,
“The Death of a Salesman”,
Lenny Bruce,
Martin Luther King.
are our dreams dying?
are they, Joe?
Well Joe,
what is it to be a man;
I have felt you here around me.
I caught a glimpses of sparkling light.
I am used to having the dead around,
I live with them.
They can do me no harm;
and besides I need the company,
Could only have been you or Ricky,
Joe.
Ricky died last November.
For Ricky
enough was never enough.
He died from a toxic tonic.
It is not Ricky,
it could only be you
Joe.
Ricky told me with relish,
the last time he had plenty,
how he fucked his brain out.
Ricky was a lost soul
he need his tonics.
The only way
To escape the voices
in his head.
Hey Joe,
I know you are listening.
My heroes
were those that died at Gallipoli.
.
I have never knew a real father,
or had a mother's love;
My first father my uncle
he use to go to Tommo's,
A two-up game;
Used to drive the coppers crazy;
it did,
the location changed daily,
they could never find it,
to bust it.
it was invitation only,
in a day before mobile phones;
that meant you had to be in the know.
Lenny McPherson,
Joe Misner,
Tom Domican,
Tilly Devine ,
Kate Leigh;
Hey Joe,
The world is stranger than fiction.
is it not?
I know
how fate can turn in upon us;
you do, too,
don't you
Joe?
Birth is woman's business,
death is the only thing for us.
It just is how it is.
Women must yield to the pain of child-birth;
we are taught to yield to nothing.
Love is always stronger than pride
is it not?
let me tell you about an angel
the fact is I do not know her
but I know she is beautiful with a delicate touch
as only a woman can have;
I who have loved and lost,
as love always does;
we expect too much from it;
but what there.
what else is there,
hey Joe?
that bastard criminal weed, and other things
have banned me from your home;
but that does not matter,
does it?
all that matters is this link that joins us,
Hey Joe.
The mind is the last boundary
and where it will take us,
I do not know.
I do not know anything;
not even if it is the mind or the heart.
all I know is that we must love;
is that not so,
hey Joe.
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Behind every strong man, there has to be a stranger, stronger women; good on her!
Hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Hello Johnny. bloody Debbie she is a real bitch. She is the Queen of the bitches and she is nagging me. Now, mate, you know how it is, you just have to give them their due. It comes from a Jackson Brown song, I once said to Debbie, “look I got to call you a name when I get angry - now bitch is not too mad, bad. Dogs are loyal, and bitches are very good mothers, so if I call you a bitch, it is just because I got to call you something. and bitch is not too bad. another name I called Debbie was Rosie.
Debs told me, it is not too bad if you go out with loved in your heart; your sins are forgiven. Behind every strong man is a stronger women. Debbie stayed true, and went through the fire and stayed pure.
hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Debbie was a real bitch; she did real things.
hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
You see it is alright to call a female a bitch. There is a song by Puff Daddy: called "Real Niggers"; I use to tell Debbie a real bitch and I was a white nigger, she was hanging with the niggers. Calling a man a bitch is the worse thing one can say to him, cause then he is a monstrosity. A Hoover bitch, slut, just place nigger, not a real nigger have to be black for that, but just a Hover nigger bitch.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Love is a battle field
But victory is more precious than
Rubies, diamonds or emeralds.
-
------------------------------------------------------------------hey hey debs-
-
-
I just wanted to have a chat; I know you are a family man, and are busy. Its just that it is good to have a mate to chat to, someone you admire and respect. . I do not push yourself, save your resources for things that count. Mate, let no-one ever underestimate the love between men. Here in Australia, and where I come from, a very brutal place, we, like to call it respect. Though in the world, I come from respect is underlined by violence and fear. I was a boxer; I have fought in the ring; it was only amateur, but I know how time is stretched out, how one second becomes an hour, one minute an eternity.
In my life, I have seen death and smelt it too, but the smell was sweet. It was the dried blood of the woman I loved more than myself. Her soul was with me; she said “it looks terrible”; I could do nothing else but lift the pillow, on which her head had laid for sixteen days, and raised it to my lips. It had only dried blood and some dried brains on it, so I raised to my mouth and kissed it, then said: "I have smelt the smell of death and found it to be sweet, for Kali takes the body but not the soul". It was not too bad the body was not there, but the bed was soaked in dried blood, all the way through the mattress. Her blood, her life, yet there she was with me, though I could not see her, i knew she was there. It was horrible yet, now I look back on it, 5 years later, it was beautiful. I will tell you the whole story, but not now; I trust you, I love you - do not tell me why? I do not really know. I do not love as I would a women. No, that is something between a man and a women. Something very different. To some men it is not, but not men like us. It is a relationship base on mutual trust, and respect. This respect, however, is not based on fear, but something different. In Australia, we have many ideals, none of them we live up to. One of those ideals is to be a mate. It l was forged on the battlefield. I have never seen such horror as the battlefield, thankfully. I just managed to be young enough. Vietnam. I thank my lucky stars that I was not born a few years earlier. Of course, as every man must, I too, wonder if I would I have been up to it - to stare death in the eye, and yet remain defiant.
I will never know. I have faced death in the back-streets; i have faced men, that when they say, "your dead", they mean it, but not the real thing - the battlefield.
I will leave it here for now, mate; I will continue this conversation later. I know you will read it, that is enough;in time, I know you will answer me; Do not worry about that; I do not have a family, that is why I need a mate to listen to me. That is enough.
-------------------------------------------------------------- until later my friend,
john.
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
mate, if I am getting too much, tell me; "say, hey fuck wit, piss off; i have no time for this bullshit, and this talk of masculinity", and i will understand. Masculinity, what is it? I do not know, do you Johnny? You have faced the fire and did not yield. Johnny, what is it to be a man? Myself i have felt that it is to never yield. I come from a brutal place, not like war, but if you were not able to give out brutal punishment to another, then you were not considered to be a man. I have struggled with this question for a long time, and still i can not understand - what is it to be man? To face death unflinchingly, like the Samurai with a sword that will cut a man in two with one stroke; to see the head of your enemy fly through the air, then to see the eyes move and glance at you, so accusingly. I do not know. Life is always sacred, but we as men are trained from birth to never yield. I do not know, to you Johnny?
I will continue our conversation even if it is one way; and if I get to be too much tell me, johnny. I am just a lost soul, I think like you. johnny, I just need a mate to talk to; Johnny I know I have no right. look after the things that matter. but johnny, I know you are a man like me; johnny, maybe you have had enough of masculinity. I will not blame you for that; family comes first; I understand that, but johnny, I need a mate. So if I am getting out of line tell me mate; you do not have to answer, just knowing you are there means everything to me, mate. I do not want to fuck you, Johnny; that I have had in plenty; with women, of course. I know what a man is - no mystery there; and I love mystery, a woman' s soft touch, it is mysterious, takes one to places; the love between men is different yet the same, but different. If, Johnny, if I am raving on like a fool, it is only because I trust you. I know you will straighten me out and say, "Hey mate, that is not it, that it is not it, that is not it at all; This is how it is", and I will listen, because I trust you; Why? because I have read your work and found something there. Perhaps, it is in my mind. Life is like that, is it not, johnny.
Well mate, I guess it is time to leave it for now; I am so drunk I can hardly see the screen, but think about it maybe you know, and I do not -- tell me Johnny what is this thing or something else, that is forced upon us, and we must yield to it but nothing else, not even death; what is this concept, what is this phantom, what is this ghost that haunts us - what is masculinity? What is it to be man?
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
I have been down back one ways
I have faced the odds
Within, those without too.
Joe, john, johnny, or hello Joe.
I have know hunger
the odds within me
Would always get me, Joe
hello, Joe.
"It hurts when a mate dies
Does it not ?".
all our dreams are fading
Sometimes, I do not
Want to be here,
Joe;
I have always been a lonely poet,
an exile, a stranger to myself,
Or what I was expected to be.
This nation was baptized in blood
in Turkey.
Some we look up for failures;
Ned Kelly, Les Darcy,
Lenny McPherson,
Turkey;
Joe.
I raise my glass again to the God Dionysus
The God of the vine
who taught us to turn the fruit of the vine
into wine.
What you you think,
the land of the brave and free is it fading?
“The Leaves of Grass”,
Billy Holiday,
“The Death of a Salesman”,
Lenny Bruce,
Martin Luther King.
are our dreams dying?
are they, Joe?
Well Joe,
what is it to be a man;
I have felt you here around me.
I caught a glimpses of sparkling light.
I am used to having the dead around,
I live with them.
They can do me no harm;
and besides I need the company,
Could only have been you or Ricky,
Joe.
Ricky died last November.
For Ricky
enough was never enough.
He died from a toxic tonic.
It is not Ricky,
it could only be you
Joe.
Ricky told me with relish,
the last time he had plenty,
how he fucked his brain out.
Ricky was a lost soul
he need his tonics.
The only way
To escape the voices
in his head.
Hey Joe,
I know you are listening.
My heroes
were those that died at Gallipoli.
.
I have never knew a real father,
or had a mother's love;
My first father my uncle
he use to go to Tommo's,
A two-up game;
Used to drive the coppers crazy;
it did,
the location changed daily,
they could never find it,
to bust it.
it was invitation only,
in a day before mobile phones;
that meant you had to be in the know.
Lenny McPherson,
Joe Misner,
Tom Domican,
Tilly Devine ,
Kate Leigh;
Hey Joe,
The world is stranger than fiction.
is it not?
I know
how fate can turn in upon us;
you do, too,
don't you
Joe?
Birth is woman's business,
death is the only thing for us.
It just is how it is.
Women must yield to the pain of child-birth;
we are taught to yield to nothing.
Love is always stronger than pride
is it not?
let me tell you about an angel
the fact is I do not know her
but I know she is beautiful with a delicate touch
as only a woman can have;
I who have loved and lost,
as love always does;
we expect too much from it;
but what there.
what else is there,
hey Joe?
that bastard criminal weed, and other things
have banned me from your home;
but that does not matter,
does it?
all that matters is this link that joins us,
Hey Joe.
The mind is the last boundary
and where it will take us,
I do not know.
I do not know anything;
not even if it is the mind or the heart.
all I know is that we must love;
is that not so,
hey Joe.
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Behind every strong man, there has to be a stranger, stronger women; good on her!
Hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Hello Johnny. bloody Debbie she is a real bitch. She is the Queen of the bitches and she is nagging me. Now, mate, you know how it is, you just have to give them their due. It comes from a Jackson Brown song, I once said to Debbie, “look I got to call you a name when I get angry - now bitch is not too mad, bad. Dogs are loyal, and bitches are very good mothers, so if I call you a bitch, it is just because I got to call you something. and bitch is not too bad. another name I called Debbie was Rosie.
Debs told me, it is not too bad if you go out with loved in your heart; your sins are forgiven. Behind every strong man is a stronger women. Debbie stayed true, and went through the fire and stayed pure.
hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Debbie was a real bitch; she did real things.
hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
You see it is alright to call a female a bitch. There is a song by Puff Daddy: called "Real Niggers"; I use to tell Debbie a real bitch and I was a white nigger, she was hanging with the niggers. Calling a man a bitch is the worse thing one can say to him, cause then he is a monstrosity. A Hoover bitch, slut, just place nigger, not a real nigger have to be black for that, but just a Hover nigger bitch.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- hey Joe
To:
"Mad Swirl" <crazy@madswirl.com>
Love is a battle field
But victory is more precious than
Rubies, diamonds or emeralds.
-
------------------------------------------------------------------hey hey debs-
See ya Johnny,
and may the Muses visit you often,
your mate,
William shakesbar
and may the Muses visit you often,
your mate,
William shakesbar
-
