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Cate, you make me smile. I once drove a Mazda. It was my first car, an RX-4 Rotary. It was old but went like the wind. My current car is a ’91 Ford. It hasn’t moved for about 3 months. It’s quite sick.

To put it kindly, I find it curious how so many of us partake in ritual yet do not believe in it. I think this world is in desperate need of relevant ritual. Unfortunately, today many of us are left out; many of us are alienated and dislocated from the Source. And essentially, that Source is alive in each of us.

You say “we are still of one”. Indeed we are. The air you breathe in Canada is the same air I breathe in Australia. Everything is connected, everything. In 13,750,000,003 (1989) I was reading a book by David Suzuki. In it he postulated that the entire Human race had a common ‘mother’ somewhere in Africa a few million years ago. He intimated that one female gave birth to the line we know as Homo Sapiens. I’m no expert but if you go back down the mammalian highway I reckon there was one common progenitor. Go back further some 3.5 billion years you find the beginning of life on this planet probably in an ocean. 4.5 billion years ago the formation of our Earth and this marvellous solar system. And, yes, some 13.75 billion years ago: From somewhere, Fire to fill the void. To me at least, that is G-d at His rawest. There is no name for Him here; everything is Reverence. We are of One.

Be good, Cate,
Adam

Shabbat has passed - another Saturday night without you. I still have
an hour or so left of my birthday - another one gone without you. For
more than 18 years I’m on the sidelines. I am angry, and I am tired.
I cannot wait forever. I send you this Dylan:

Don’t think twice, it’s alright

Well it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If’in you don’t know by now
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It’ll never do somehow

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm travellin' on
Don't think twice, it's alright

And, it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
The light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road

But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
But we never did too much talkin' anyway
Don't think twice, it's alright

So it ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never done before
And it ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you anymore

I'm a-thinkin' and a-wonderin, walkin down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's alright

So long honey babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
Goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say fare thee well

I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's alright

--------------------------------------

A minute later, my heart shifts so I send you the lyrics of a song
I wrote about 15 years ago:

Memories

There was a time
Long before
I wrote this song
Through a different door
I used to live
Up on that hill
Oh I belonged
It was such a thrill
I had a girl
A home, a dog
Some crazy dream
Calling through the fog
It wouldn’t fade
It wouldn’t clear
I had to leave
Sorry my dear

And now my memories turn over
And now my future not so sure
This borrowed love deep inside of me
I can’t use it anymore

I travelled far
Through stranger’s lands
Seen Israel’s Zion
The holy temple’s sands*
Seen London’s gardens
Seen the Eiffel Tower
In the home of Kafka
He still fights the power
I came home soon
My dreams confirmed
I asked my woman
She said, “Ain’t no terms”

And now my memories turn over
Now my future not so sure
This borrowed love deep inside of me
I don’t need you anymore

I landed in nowhere
Lived here ever since
Each move so painful
But to you I won’t wince
Hey mother and father
I’m not your little boy
Hey Ronald McDonald
You’re such a fucked up toy

I float on the outside
Dream is coming soon
When my head gets straightened
Will come my wedding tune
I’ll sing my song
I’ll sing it brave
Sing from my heart deep down
It’ll be some parade

Because now my memories turn over
Oh, now my future is so sure
This borrowed love buried deep inside of me
Oh, I don’t need you anymore

And now memories turn over
And now my future looking good
This borrowed love buried deep inside of me
I won’t have to use it anymore

*Not in Yeroushalaim

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYSNp0N0KB0 – for you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITf57kOoVjg – for you again

When we meet,
just look into my eyes

Hi Boss,

I like your writings and always have.

I ran across this Leonard clip and it reminds me of your predicament.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWt7HFSf5zg

God bless,
Paul

Have a read of this old Indian poet, Bill Hanna;
or was it Bilhana?

The first line of each of these romantic (yes you are a romantic) poems is always "Even now".
This immediacy, this ongoing phrase reminds me of your predicament, Boss.
Bilhana was writing around the 11th century, and in a very different time and place, yet "love" is still the central theme.

http://www.humanistictexts.org/bilhana.htm

All the best,
Mat.

I thank you Gully
I thank you Mat,
Peace

Sorry (3/4/25)

I hurt you
Behind your back
Other women
I am sorry

I hurt you
Ignored you
Put you down
I am sorry

I hurt you
Undervalued you
Underestimated you
I am sorry

I hurt you
At home
Socially
I am sorry

I hurt you
In conversation
In quietness
I am sorry

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGs8vtjDxxY

-----

And She Doesn’t Care (6/5/19)

All the girls have gone
A breakdown or two
The internet has malfunctioned
And I don’t miss my father
that often
Six years since we scattered his ashes
in the Yarra
at Warrandyte –
very un-Jewish

I am without her
I took the photo down today
She didn’t reply to this
or my letters
13 years on the outer
And she doesn’t care
I cannot finish this poem
Words antagonistic
to this barren day
anchorless and inward
They attempt to free
the frozen
the dead

They cannot
my scars are in deep

(Then I remember
her singing to me
a cold day
early August ‘88
a tiny amphitheatre
near our rented home
up in the sticks

I believe she nearly
rescued me)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5WLPRkeXG8

-----

To Jackie In April (28/4/23)

There’s something about
This double-edged sword
The more that you run
The more the discord

A tale of our love
Set down long ago
Then seventeen years
Of wastage and woe

Alone in the morning
And then there at dusk
You baulk and you tremble
To remember our past

Early on in the piece
We’d stay up till dawn
Our breathing all heavy
Our lips wet and worn

We lived on a hill
The town it was quaint
Had a dog and a cat
Your easel to paint

But life it was fragile
A five year long feud
My head in the sky
And you I’d exclude

Our break-up was bitter
Still tastin’ the pain
Loose sex and loose talk
No one took the blame

We were really just kids
Our mid-twenties joust
But time has passed baby
And it’s nearly run out

Let’s slip away gently
In a car or a boat
I’ll sing to you softly
I’ll dig you a moat

I’ll tell you that love
Is as pure as the day
That honour and kindness
Will finish decay

Now forty or something
More moderate and keen
We know of the Sacred
The wretched world scene

I swear to you baby
If you read this tonight
I am with you at sunset
I am there at first light

I’ve loved you forever
And then maybe more
Our love it is written
In the will of the L-rd

I hope you still dance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnejLmQGYhg

Adam

In Good Time (9/7/20)

Part (i)

And they won't offer Him
milk
or honey
won't utter a welcome
as He passes by
there'll be no breaking
of bread
drinking of wine
when He raises
His voice
at the peace sanctum
the arena for atonement
all gone astray

No,
there will be inhumanity
secret laughter
criticism galore
He'll walk through
genital warfare
intricate lies
profanity
with its hands held out
its eyes not focussed
deceptive thought
godlessness

And He will see
all this
and remember back to now
His training ground
and He will wonder still
how Man became
so broken


Part (ii)

He will fight indifference
invective
and the stunned
Though scorned
He'll conquer pride
and the wars that only kill
He'll be exposed to the masses
those secret operatives
brimming with malice
the backstabbers
and freeloaders
He'll crack starvation's reign
that of contagion
and confusion

A timeless day shall arise
where freedom sings
a new anthem
and liberty knows
a new host
coming from different
corners of concern
He will hoist a
multi-dimensional flag
on the flagpost of
the capital
of the world
A world changed
by His desperation
natural inclination

And He'll come back
to now
remember
the anonymity
when He walked every street
broken
a pauper
the laughing stock
When money
meant so much
to every living soul
when women still
wore make-up
and children lived
in prisons
their parents
hiding keys


Part (iii)

He knows of a
warless place
the generals
the politicians
incarcerated
and children
the world over
eating hot soup
playing football
laughing
Parents live together
iron out problems
dance
feel the sun on their backs
make love
There is only one army
it marches to one drum
there are no weapons
no intercontinental ballistic missiles
no guns
Sea water is treated
it nourishes the lands
food is plentiful
And money is illusion
it died a miserly death
people couldn't conceive
that wealth was
all perspective
relative to poverty
They melted down
those silver coins
used the notes
to start up fires
banks became
the barren liars
we knew they always were

And people sleep
without a pill
you cannot be afraid
for He is here
for some time more
things safely
in His hands
for He is Here
for some time longer
He'll construct
create
with love

In sleep
He sometimes remembers
back to now
the days of vicissitude
of violence
fear
inequality
He wakes
naked
next to Her
and hears
His baby murmur
He mouths 'thank you'
to the ceiling
and turns the kettle on

Clever (9/5/21)

My dad said
it was clever
to be clever.
My dad was
often right.
He told me I
could be a
physicist when
I grow up.
I was six.

I got to university.
Tried to be clever.
Ended up in the
asylum. Clever
didn’t matter there.
No rational theory,
no correct grammar.
I was in the jungle.
IQ died. Pretence
denied.

Dad was uncomfortable
when he visited. We
sat outside in the car -
ABC classical music. He
saved me in ’93, honest.
Driving up the highway
every night after work.
Listenin’ to my pain –
his nervy old way. That
was love; relentless love.
Last night our clever
treasurer issued the
budget. As he spoke,
all sophisticated like,
I knew his end was near.
That lies, the ones all of
us may tell, cannot win.

God gave birth to two
brothers: Love and
Clever. Clever wanted
to kill Love. He didn’t
have the guts.


Pesach/Easter (24/4/25)

Days full of dying
The Exodus kept
I ponder the lying
No docile respect

The pious all bent
They fall to insane
They misled repent
Mixed up in profane

I am a hypocrite
To think that I’m better
My adrenalin hit
Is to see if I get her

We dance on all fours
To broken down ritual
Our idols and laws
The reality fictional

We photograph stars
Our technology games
Mercedes Benz cars
The rich man in vain

Ask Jesus or Moses
Their thoughts on today
They’d give us dead roses
Most bought on ebay

Drink beer from a bottle
Piss-ups ease the pain
It’s you I will throttle
My brother’s to blame

No potent excuse
Sex culture of none
Overkill and abuse
Just fun in the sun

Lurking in shadows
The CEO gents
They lie to the widows
Defy common sense

Me a bad poet
‘Fuck off!’ said my muse
I reckon I’ll go it
In my moccasin shoes

You see I digress
I nearly forgot
She leads me to stress
I lose the damned plot

Game over let’s face it
Your venomous tongue
Three strikes and no hit
The fat lady’s sung

You eat chocolate eggs
Put ‘em into your baskets
The crippled kid begs
The war games, the caskets

Break unleavened bread
Think hard on this day
The Truth never said
‘It’s the poor who shall pay’

They dance in Jakarta
Mumbai, Bangalore
Drink Coke in Atlanta
But whatever for?

Their ship it is sinking
The captain is drunk
Man is unthinking
Peace is debunked

There’s only one fence
Keeping us in
Get rid of pretence
All of us sin*

How else to know guilt
To be cut in the shame?
We learn and we’re built
We grow thru’ the pain

Let’s get back to real
Ain’t been there before
Must cry so we feel
The denied and the sore

A new breath of air
All valid and swirling
They sang it in ‘Hair’
The groove is unfurling

There’s coming a world
Where nobody’s scared
The boys and the girls
All sure and prepared

There’s coming a day
Of justice and honour
This isn’t just hearsay
It cascades upon her

There’s coming a time
When everyone eats
Sacred, defined
The spiritual feats

There’s coming a love
Spread over the earth
No push and no shove
A true sense of worth

*sin - the breaking of divine or moral law, esp. by a conscious act;
an offence against good taste or propriety etc. Oxford Concise Dictionary


Untitled (10/4/25)

I can’t
I am nothing
Friendless
Hated

I have little
to say
A coward
Frightened

So many
important men
So powerful
So ingrained

Let me stay
in bed
Let it all
wash over

I tell You
I cannot
My mantras
unanswered

You settle in
for the night
I am left
exasperated

You know
I’ll acquiesce
Like I did
at twenty

Dancing neath
gum trees
Just singing
Shema

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YaQzx_rjio&NR=1

Boss

30th April

Intelligence
is
nothing
without
knowing
Suffering's
essence

In
fact
it
can
be
a
bloody
big
danger

1st May

Golden leaves
on the road
The cars but
intruders on
the carpet
Gently they
fall
One it seems
then another
A motorbike
dissects them
A pidgeon coos
Indian summer
Hazy sky
A cyclist passes
He too in
this Autumn
pantomime -
this expectantcy

------

I cannot write this
anymore
My pain too real
Every thought
analyzed
discarded
plundered
There is no lull
It is constant
unrelenting
tearing in
Sophisticated
unsophisticated
I need someone -
anyone
This loneliness
will fucken
undo me
This loneliness
I so detest

-------

Jackie
I need you so
In my arms
Around my soul
The band plays
'Somebody Stole
My Baby'
The jazz live
Audience in it
You are not gone
Just away
Biding time
Out to lunch

You want it, too
Beneath surfaces
You want it

2nd May

The rain
has stopped
on the tin
roof last night.
Randomness.
Pitter-patter.
The safety
under the
doona.
A child
born by
The Ganges.
He knows
the rain.
But has
no tin roof
nor doona.

Luck and
evolution
have had
their way.

------

The sacrificial lamb
had parents -
you can be sure
of that.
He took breath,
felt earth between
his hooves -
ate and pissed and shat.
He cried for
his mamma.

When he was
to be slaughtered,
upon seeing the knife,
he probably got
angry at the boss.

Not probably -
he did

3rd May

Greta is brown
a kelpie
Sun streams
in the window
She sits on
the warm carpet
Ears pricked up
a bit of dingo
in her
Tom lies
in the shadows
He's older
more border collie
black and white
They are 'just'
dogs
But at times
they are closer
to God,
more in His
rhythm,
than intellectual
men
hellbent on names
theory and
one-upmanship

I take my cues
from the dogs

------

I sip my
Zero Coke
Sit outside
a small shop
And I don't know
the answers -
I don't know
3 students
pass by
chatter, excitement
My I-pod spews
it's rhetoric
This morning
no one knows
how sound is
transmitted by
mobile phones,
how petrol
pushes pistons,
if G-d is
exclusive
to Earth
or if He
is known
elsewhere

------

I sit in the
Royal Oak
I sip cola
The footy replay
behind me
Beer aroma
Pool tables
Lonely ones
The mat on
the bar boasts
Coopers
You could stay
here forever
The world is
not in here
The blood
and guts
is not mixed here
This is done
in Tripoli,
a mansion in
Pakistan,
in the coming war

I get an iced water

I Don't Forgive You (4/5/25)

When we share
the same sky
Make love in
our bed
Shower then
bathe at dusk

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

When we
visit Venice
Laugh at
the ironies
Eat Chinese
take-away

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

When we
reminisce
Listen to
Van Morrison
Say brave
wedding vows

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

When we walk
by the Yarra
Go see
a movie
Have coffee
in Belgrave

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

When we pick
wild berries
Ride on
a train
Go to
the footy

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

When we dance
80’s bop
Destroy the
money game
Land on
the moon

I don’t forgive you
I won’t forgive you
I’ll never forgive you

for this silence

I am on the couch. I am watching the ’72 Grand Final – Carlton versus Richmond. And it is the same game; but something is different. There is kicking and handball, goals and points, long runs and bumps; but something is different. There are high marks and it is tough. There are the commentators and 120,000 people; but something is different. There is the premiership cup, the lap of honour, there is jubilation, there is commiseration; but something is different.

There is no advertising: not on the players’ jumpers, not on the umpires’ backs, not on the ball, not staining the surface of the hallowed turf, not emblazoned on the grandstands and fences, not on the scoreboard and not bubbling out of the commentators’ mouths.

And it was so, so much more wonderful to watch. It was so much more decent.

When I hear this song Boss, I usually think of you.
Goodonya mate.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCqpPj87ekE

Mat.

Thank you, Mat.
It really means a great deal.

A little over 3 years ago I read this poem at a mate's wedding.

Speech (28/3/22)

Ken,
I listen to Rocky softly
through second-hand speakers.
And I think of your old LP
and I ask if you still have
that discipline and will
needed by fighters of your ilk.
I wonder what to say
on this your wedding night.
It has been a long time, my friend.
According to the status quo
you have made it.
Wife, career, all by forty.
You kind of
wished for this
that summer’s day
in ’81
up at the Primary
as we rested
from hitting tennis balls
against a nondescript
brick wall.
I could reminisce
about the pubs and clubs
school days, the rotaries
the deaths, the births
David Suzuki and Gandhi
the golf course and Rob’s
how boyhoods evolve
into manhood –
but I won’t.

I want to partake in this ritual.
Be witness to your and Mim’s
profound moment.
I am rapt to be here –
sharing something elemental
and essential to the dance.
May the Breath of Life
be known to you both.
Do not try to consume it –
it cannot bed down
with avarice or fools.
Behold its complexities,
its simplicities.

You can find it in museums
in cycling to Frankston
in a kiss.
It lives in the misery
of Delhi, Darfur, Donvale.
The Moonlight Sonata
can take you both
into purple horizons
onto greater heights.
Your dreams nestle
secretly
overtly
separately
as one.

Ken, look after your Mim
and Mim, look after my mate.
The Universe joins you
ever more persistently
ever more undeniably
into her fold.
You are the rhythm
you are the drum.
And if you fall along the road,
look ahead
always look ahead
hope is the genesis
of triumph.

And your love soars beyond
time’s fragile constructs.
It is indeed immortal
it cannot decay, ever.
So I end my poem.
Rocky has finished.
Van Halen is now on.
And I remember
“You Really Got Me”
playing loudly on a
lazy Saturday afternoon
in Dan’s back room.
And I know
that you and Mim
have really got each other -
and this is beautiful.