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Saturday, July 26, 2008

Bettongs and Potoroos
















William Buckley, transported convict, escaped and lived in the bush among the Wathaurung people of Western Victoria (Australia) for thirty-two years. On re-entering white society at the splendidly named Indented Head he overcame by now severe difficulties with the English language to dictate an account of his adventures to a missionary, George Langthorne. Read more here.

From the notes to The Life and Adventures of William Buckley:
1. Probably pigface (Mesembryanthemum).
2. Probably the call of the yellow-bellied glider, a kind of possum which possesses one of the loudest calls of any marsupial.
3. The name literally means ‘returned from the dead’.
4. In fact, witchetty grubs are delicious at any time.
5. Bettongs and potoroos.
6. This is a rather garbled account of the koala.
7. Termites.
8. The identity of this red-spotted double-headed serpent remains a mystery.
9. Langhorne’s writing is indecipherable here.
10. This account confuses the echidna and the wombat.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

WB was my dad in pretend, and sent George Russell to meet me, in Dream Song time, long long ago

when things were easy for me..23 yr old (david) -- Buckley,


I cut loose as soon as s/he got
me across and until a prison boat

pushed off

I and three - other fellas, sailed
chained in Sorrentom -- we went too

Melbourne -- and each party split
ancient, going utterly alien

in a warm and -- enough
land - young Buckley six five,

WB tatted on his arm, shall
later identify him to official

State apparatus in a portion
of the Empire's govermment

back then).

~

and 33 yrs in the tuatha half a world distant, totally unique and Survivor, effortless King Bickley, of the aboriginal ppl who live simply -- in that culture, daithi - for thousands of yrs, all even Us, Unique, united tribal unit of pretty stable drinkers and thinkers of the spoor light, until Wheatly came dave, saving the aussies from themselves with the potent intellectual suicide


yr nuts biggest Hero, (me dave) and Yeats here speaking across our planet save, not only our deluded colleagues in crappier climes where winter is amnvoon's words flitting

anu's paps outcrop great from wild man, one of our tribal names,

this is Us dave, unique mens' life
caused to be, proving we need

Me Caoimhghin as prism of Fitz stan ce of Che Time -- as we cast back - it's clear --- something is above us


under us

(un)forgotten yet Swift is there, deep, deep bone homie and yiz

innit good hey, being the felony
posh-rap, men of the cloth, silk

nicked uniform, our soul of jah-
stone cold killer, cuts the credit

company of our king Me jah Phantom
geo-politico existence, and sorts

art includes, makes tribal King
by a tribe who adopted him,

spending thirty three yrs as Caine
Connery pretended to be in -- The

Man Who Would Be King -- the movie Kipling's rivetting pretence

(because of a mind blowing premise david -- buckly proves - represented realty and thus Buckly is very very interesting, as he spent ten yrs more in the bush than at Home in the glass house,


...such that when he voluntarily appeared after all those yrs away, he had been forgotten presumed dead, and totally assimilated into the (thick) base, uncivilized *wog* Culture We the artists of appallingly faux pas, capable of imagining ourself being...



Buckley the Alien, who appeared and put to work as a linquistic intermediary who (insert sir) whatsertoff was better at directing the overall arc of pacification by carrot and bomb, attacking the *foreign* (native) A culture of deep abs tanned, toned rising at the final, as if to ask a question, hey WB, george russell met him by the river, and asked in dream, why the song lead back to Y, if me and dave aint innit?

Foreign-Making, assimilation
by eminently eloquent imitation

all soft wax, plastic, Concrete
again Daithi W 40 cans and heif-

er again, agian you are not her-
e shot recently mailed to Her: V

victoria's english Civilisation
and a bow and even now, memorized

be the Me Jah controller: R U P berts true pets and fawning Class

tic tock, Enoch the Knower Vic, i
nock until the gods stop a doc, N

of stacked cubes and clones ban A
vans timid explosive staitionary

on airy wears and the Bush out-back
ley tones of song from Cross anmvo-

on, mooing silvery luna magi light
and loving Swift david, T odd's

canadian and my closest pretend
bard of sunlight and sorrow, alone

all alone where An Mhuman swooning
stole the shadows refracting atoms

silence -- she-man MS amen pissed flapping unconsciously, the wing

of Hope and the desire for Yeats
of all my closest pretend fwends

s/he acquaints my closest rivals
wiv Dizzy rascal's words, nuff

Swift said, let there be a Derek
Hines, and do you know mister S

is yr closest closet supporter
not actually wanting you do write

rubbisher than Him, R todd, TS on
god, god dave, do you know i love

todd swift with a genuinely, south
chill-way of being able to bull sh-

it isn't I david, but a diamond
suited spade, intellect, ollamh

Club of the royal flush hearts
Earl of Desmond, I Todd daithi

Deasmhuman, club in for a diamond
doc, profess the Trad of Diamond

ditties and De le scramble 2 let
T (his) odds B as s/he of arts

sopudz R Us Briton quiz-list Que
ens le chippies on Falls road A-

n swer as D brilliant rudder a K
even spaced, usurping eyes lever

deftly the first new Y verb, ottomen disporting in the river of Love and life, finding our mate/s, being a good wife to our H usb and band of gals yah, equally, as innit ooh and bar fabulous, let it happen, sex it up, make that man a Genuis, not Simple as the toffs wold have our chap buckley, who was actually a King and in the end, the division drove him to being misrepresented as a bit dim, for being able to -- not only find himself banged up in Oz for (what may have been a genuine mistake, he claimed at least and not) Robbery.

the only fievin WB did was in the head, para normal balanced sidhe and faery hosts, all it takes to overdose and be laughed at because ppl think yer mad, like they think yr mad for being my bezzie (nearly) new chum who -- face it dave, we've got history, myth, many many friends in both flesh and fantasy, no nasties but simple lovers of the Truth about things, and Buckley, the fifth column of working Class ridden, pretending we are all Cash and no fur coat, dictators of frighteningly genuine and -- what on the face of it - appears disturbingly attractive young women at the open swing poetry nite on Wollamocka bluff, the course ermine tower, 4000 stories and the ley across line to eternal Love, what privet, fence, camera -- Action in the local pub yr Outsider Destiny there all those millions of yrs ago, lived as the Heraclitus Rod here, and hallowed be thy hollow nomen, one way street, s/he, you, we, all of us and, perhaps most importantly, Me Jah presents of the multi-billion kind, sponderz as, i fink yervil found, are not flippin mine over Dave, not his highness mister Swift daithi of the clean fair fucks is yiz joycean desperate, a parent of Song, you, you dave, and Me - need help, to be abnormally normal and top rag, fuck yah

gra agus siochainn

(don't) go way again
always be a fwendlie

lying git, a lover pr-
int it lancashire bono

though, mister Yewah
son, the mash up brew


cod gods, wax deities
softly sealing herbal

jealous healers kermit
killed ms piggy, great

s/he was always a sow
self obsessed fat ppl

should nuff respect
show, aint forf cummin

chop

vyn fm
When the twenty three year old (david) Buckley cut loose as soon as he got to the prison in which (until the boat pushed off with three other fellas, sailed from Sorrento to Melbourne and split up -- each party going their own way, into this ancient and utterly alien land warm enough and for Buckley, as a young person, six five, WB tattooed on his arm (which as we shall discover, later dave- identified him to the official government in that portion of the Empire back then).

~

33 yrs in a tuatha with aboriginal ppl who had lived simply in that culture, for thousands of yrs, Unique, united tribal, until Wheatly came dave, saving the aussies from themselves with the potent intellectual nuts of yr biggest Hero, (me dave) and Yeats here to speak across a planet and save, not only our deluded colleagues in crappier climes where winter is amnvoon's woords flitting and anu's paps from the outcrop of a great wild man, one of the tribal names, this unique man's life caused to be, and proving through the prism and istance of Time -- as we cast back - it's clear --- something unforgotten is there, deep, deep bone and yiz innit good hey, posh as the felony rap, being a man of the cloth, uniform, soul jah, stone cold killer, a credit to his company, the King, and he became King of the tribe who adopted him, spending thirty three yrs being in the position Caine and Connery pretended to be in -- The Man Who Would Be King -- the movie of Kipling's rivetting pretence (because of the mind blowing premise that - as david buckly proves - represented realty and thus Buckly is very very interesting, as he spent ten yrs more in the bush than at Home in the glass house,


...such that when he voluntarily appeared after all those yrs away, he had been forgotten presumed dead, and totally assimilated into the (thick) base, uncivilized *wog* Culture We the artists of appallingly faux pas, capable of imagining ourself being...



Buckley the Alien, who appeared and put to work as a linquistic intermediary who (insert sir) whatsertoff was better at directing the overall arc of pacification by carrot and bomb, attacking the *foreign* (native) A culture of deep abs tanned, toned rising at the final, as if to ask a question, hey WB, george russell met him by the river, and asked in dream, why the song lead back to Y, if me and dave aint innit?

Foreign-Making, assimilation
by eminently eloquent imitation

all soft wax, plastic, Concrete
again Daithi W 40 cans and heif-

er again, agian you are not her-
e shot recently mailed to Her: V

victoria's english Civilisation
and a bow and even now, memorized

be the Me Jah controller: R U P berts true pets and fawning Class

tic tock, Enoch the Knower Vic, i
nock until the gods stop a doc, N

of stacked cubes and clones ban A
vans timid explosive staitionary

on airy wears and the Bush out-back
ley tones of song from Cross anmvo-

on, mooing silvery luna magi light
and loving Swift david, T odd's

canadian and my closest pretend
bard of sunlight and sorrow, alone

all alone where An Mhuman swooning
stole the shadows refracting atoms

Anne said...

What an amazing story. And a beautiful précis. That's astonishingly tall for the time, even the least of his alleged heights. I loved this bit:
Buckley became an apprentice bricklayer. Not suited to this, he became a foot soldier in the King's Foot Regiment...

Ms Baroque said...

Oh dear, Des. David, you know in Wordpress you get an edit function on comments.

I love this, the notes, everything. I wish I'd written the notes. And Langthorne is a wonderful name.

Mark Granier said...

Precisely Des, I couldn't have said it better myself.