Poem number 274 - Will Of Testament - 8/3/1988

I, John Philip Anthony Svoboda also known as,
Jean-Francoise Phillipe Antoine Svoboda,
Hereby declare that of my will I leave Lionel Singh of
77 Hampton Road, Atarmon and Mr Paul Dunlop, executors of my will.

Upon my death, I want it known That I always kept,
My life as open as possible,
And not totally one hundred percent,
In telling the truth but near enough, I start with my family.

To my wife, half of my insurance policy,
With Prudential it is  worth thirty thousand dollars.
Plus to my mother and father ( if not deceased),
And then to my sister thousand dollars other half of my insurance  
        policy.

To my friends in order:
Ron Morris -  three hundred dollars cash,
Lionel Singh - records collection,
Paul Dunlop -  my sterio system,
Ron Shelley - my drinks collection.

To the St. Vincent De Paul Society,
Any clothes that are not used by anyone else,
And property owned by myself or jointly with my wife,
To be  sold to a fair  high price and a new less expensive residence 
               is purchased.

Poem Number 273 - Chopped Finger! - 8/3/1988

When the mood is more than cheerful,
When the atmosphere is filled with fun,
This is a time when things go reversed,
And when everything turns into panic battle stations.

Last Sunday waiting for my wife to get dressed,
To attend a 'French community' family party at Mum's,
I was to pick up a pair of  very sharp scissors,
But to be playing with them, shaping then into the air.

And it so just happened this play stopped to seriousness,
Leaving me bleeding constantly,
As I chopped off some skin off my finger,
Leaving me yell and scream like as in thunder!

It took a while before the blood stopped bleeding,
And embarrassingly we  bandaged it up,
So everyone at the party knew I had an injury,
Leaving me to answer questions all the time.

Poem Number 272 - The News That Carried On - 26/2/1988

By now the time is over two months,
Since our much celebrated  day of marriage, 
And yet there  friends of mine still learning it,
With plenty of total shock also to my embarrassment.

But as more  know of such good news,
My emotions are enlightened by such passing of news,
And yet my wife who has little  of her own friends over here,
Makes good friends from day to another.

 For nearly a month she has committed herself to work,
To do a job that is physically hard tough work,
But her own reward is to have cash in her hand,
And be out of the hornet's nest, of our little home.

How tired she is to come home after work, of some days,
To commence the household  duties feeling tired at nights.
Yes Nirmala will finish what has to be done for us,
And to no rest she will end up collapsing in bed, waiting for me.

For me, many days have passed since our day of marriage,
A day that I will always remember in my heart, forever lasting,
A night and day that will show up in my memory of lightness,
And of course....the important decision of a life time comes true. That's news!

Poem Number 271 - No One Is The Real Boss - 26/2/1988

For a longtime my heart has been fulfilled,
My love of true life loves me to the hilt.
It may be  hard for me to imagine me being  single again,
But there's no doubt about it I love her, I really love her.

We can talk to reach each other seriously,
We can both be mucking around jokingly,
We can also be a little hurt for the joke words to be said,
But we can also make love to the tune of 'Sound of Music'.

There's little that separates us in any differences,
There are a lot of ideas and decisions we share,
And there's little to be said when our bodies touch each other,
But most of all we can work things out together.

No one is the real boss!
No one is equal to the other!
No one is indifferent with day to day life style!
And no one will separate or destroy what we are building!

Both our families care of us so much,
Both of our friends treat us like friends,
And yet young at hearts we may still seem,
 our priority is to fulfil our dreams.

Poem Number 270 - The Sex Appeal Of Man - 19/2/1988

Girls wolf whistle as they see men in tight stubby shorts,
And whilst they try to attract the attention of these uninterested
        men,
They are in a peer group of women learning first grab of a man's
        heart,
And wearing tight jeans, showing off their torpedoes enjoying this
       tempting time.

But the men keep to themselves and laugh at their own jokes,
And making sure that the women don't hear what they say,
So one of the sexes will have to decide to make the real move,
To separate the men from the boys and the women from the girls.

Each watches, each  every momentous move,
Gambling bets are taken to see who's got the 'guts',
There is no  music around, there is no building in sight,
Heavy bushes and forests surround them all.

There is no time to kill as dark will soon arrive,
To quieten the noises of discussions that followed on each day.
Now the trumpeters of background music do their entrance tune,
And now the crowds no talk and watch with alarming care.

To no gutfull feel the woman casually with across to the men,
So, their bouncing torpedoes  can be seen from a thousand miles 
      away.
The men take off their stubbies and their  underclothes,
To reveal, they are a real star of their own sex appeal.

Nine months later all  women give birth to a child,
Whilst the men are now concerned  of little independence they will 
      have.
They worry of a new life to look after,
And their star sex appeal now fades away.

Poem Number 269 - Millions Of Dollars Galore - 18/2/1988

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a dream that is real?

 To lie back on a banana chair and soak up each days sun?

 To be called up to a phone, yet no energy is used?


And to feel free to do anything you want to do?

Yes, wouldn't it be nice that your car is chauffeured around town,

You have a few party drinks in your limo,

While big business decisions you make by yourself,

And there is no need to touch any money you earn?

Yes, I suppose it would be nice to have an upstairs maid and

 also for downstairs,

Yes, I suppose that your mansion will be electronically fitted,

So that just a push of a button or two,

And all your dreams and wishes will come true!

Of course it would be nice if you were single,

And organising parties was the main event of your day,

But for the men who are married, to be divorced is insane,

And temptations to enjoy your life are limited but you can

 change that!

So you can still be free to do what you want to do,

With millions of dollars galore at your fingertips,

The way you spend it (or save it), is entirely up to you,

But you must remember most importantly to include your 

special partner in your life!

Poem Number 268 - A Helping Hand - 18/2/1988

Last week I received a nice special phone call,
To be asked to give a hand, where no one's pulling his or her socks.

What is it, 'He is asking me to do?

Is to give help for the State elections coming up.’

For who lives down in south in Cronulla,

It is a pleasure to do this for the Liberal Party,

But jokes aside the winning tide has arrived,

I only help for the party not for the candidate.

I know her chances of winning are strong,

And I know that there's only a slight chance,

I could be wrong, so to just enjoy the drinks and food of the election night,

To be with crowds of supporters who work hard all day.

And then listening to minutes of news reports,

That presents such stormy forecast for 'Barry',

And to eventually hear the cheers and laughter,

Of a hard fought courageous landslide victory.

With Neville out,

With Barry out,

With Nick in,

And he's forever holding on!