Long Backpackers Poems

BELIZEAN BLEND

In the beginning it was the Yucatec, the Mopan and  Kekchi  as well
Who came from the steppes of Asia where nomads dwell
They fished and farmed milpas, in paradise; away from hell
Some building...

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Down and Out in Saigon

Southeast Asia, and Mexico
 has always attracted 
A certain type of westerner
The down and out 

On a down word spiral
Why?
Relatively cheap to live
Lots of part-time gigs

Teaching English
Or other things
Cheap Booze, drugs,...

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The Team.   

Here we are in Gayndah town, 
The parks are all filled up. 
With Caravans and Motor homes,
‘N’ Backpackers trying their luck.

The pickers are around the trees,
And filling Gaypak bins.
As cold and...

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creating a gathering
where spoken words sing
of a moment that will bring
about answers to everything
we've subconsciously been asking
when can we breathe instead if gasping
for an everlasting smile still dancing
in the soul of our innocent imagination lancing

the...

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Behind the curtain, and the veil, and the canopy
it's hard to find out what it's really meant to be.
The more you try to sort it out the higher is entropy,
and the most frequent solid answer...

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Whatever happened to all those cab drivers 
  in Madison, Wisconsin with PhD's back in the 1970's?

How are all the college kids doing who cut off a finger or toe
  in order to...

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we play spin the bottle like children pulling wings off flies
no care full abandon no threat of the truth the next the 
tomorrow the what just the now the moment the this a 
spin spin...

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Long lines
of childhood
are over.  The
mould is cold 
as stone, the 
damage is done.

Now it is time to
pack the back
and disappear.
Let the search
begin.  Fall freely
into the abyss,
learn to trust
the wind, test
yourself in the 
waves,...

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Love And Live Life

Life is love and love is life
So live life and love life
Everyone around is taxed and burnt
Simply douse with smile and love
Tensions erased with quickened ease
Angered homes inflame instantly
Easily solve it with...

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Gifts love-packed
Glass-balls gleam around
Plastic-bells compact
Move to and fro without sound
Amidst wreaths, and nutcrackers
Wool-stuffed Santa Claus 
Waves his hands like backpackers
Gives a smiling solemn silent pose
Stockings and reindeers 
Occupy their spaces as though it's their right
Snowmen...

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Ivan Milat is dead
There is nothing to be sad about or to dread
He killed seven backpackers in the Belanglo State Forest
Finally dying from the cancer that gave him no rest
 
A serial killer who showed...

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