"rucksacks" poems
Another year
A new age
As 40 left
50 drew near
I guess
It came as a shock
I should have
Watched the clock
50! 50!
Wrinkles and rucksacks
Camp-outs and bald caps
We’ve all come out to see you
On your special day
Just to wish you
A Happy Birthday!
Jun 30, 2011
Jun 30, 2011 at 10:10 AM UTC
OK lads and lassies we're going to take a walk, just 10 short miles
in that forest over there
WHAT!!!! Yes I know its dark and gloomy but then some forests are
but there's nothing there to harm you, nothing there to fear
I see you have the rucksacks I told you all to bring. Right folks
open them up and we'll see whats contained within
Ah theres no surprise at what you've got in yours, a tiny flask a magazine and your lucky rabbits paw.( Obviously it wasnt lucky
for the rabbit)
In yours just a make up bag now that'll really do some good,
at least you'll still look beautiful when your dying in the woods
Right lets take a look at what I've got in mine, a 10 x 8 tarpaulin
and a ball of nylon twine
Ah yes a survival knife the handle holds a flint for striking fire,
and in this bag 3 snares each 18 inches of supple wire
Now this small tin contains my means to stay alive, 2 small containers of lint from in my tumble dryer, perfect tinder for
making fire
This little brass things with holes in the top is my small trangia
cooker
2 ounces of spirit poured in there gives 15 minutes of fire
A picnic blanket aint much use if your stranded in the woods, well this one is because the underside is completely waterproof
This old tin mug has served me many times as a makeshift
cooking ***
A litre bottle of water and it weighs 15 pounds the lot
So heed the lessons carefully, it might help you to survive
Carry the 15 pounds that I do and you might stay alive
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
I have a bit of a blunt proposition for you:
let us move to Wisconsin or somewhere just as hidden
among soy fields and monotony;
let us leave our names behind,
the concrete slabs too heavy for our broken frames and silk rucksacks;
I am tired of fulfilling a Sisyphus contract, to be entirely honest.
I think that we could hitchhike from I-95
and drum our anthems on fleshy kneecaps,
our sights pulled away from the windows of some random Honda Accord
as scenes of purple mountains majesty paint themselves
on the insides of our singed eyelids.
Wouldn’t you love to skip along dirt roads
and forget the concrete jungles
that left painful calluses on your palms
and broke my left arm in a juvenile monkey bars contest,
complete with purple cast and a tablespoon of kids’ ibuprofen.
Pleistocene mulch would no longer plant itself
in our pink feet,
and the scars from past romps would heal.
We could lay in the high grasses until high noon,
until the moon rises high in the sky,
until it sinks behind our worn heels
and lights them with its cool flame.
Our minds could wander in Wisconsin,
wily teenage worries abandoned in favor
of punk-rock philosophies.
Maybe we could even make up that alt band
you dreamed of at sixteen,
as blandess is the birthplace of creativity;
you could pick up a flea market guitar,
and I could sing with a newfound, folksy humor.
We could do anything, and we could do nothing.
That’s the glory of something over the turnpike.
Just shake my hand,
those callouses scraping my crepey skin
and forming a blood bond like no other.
No signature required.
Leave your post stamps on your pock-marked kitchen counter.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
That old tin car could take you outta this town
Down dusty tracks with rucksacks on the backseat.
The wallet with the hole in and your last bit of change, its always the same.
The sun in your eyes and no shades, just go the other way, its ok.
Tanned hands to shake can mean money to make, a week or two later and you have made another break.
Bunk beds and room shares, tired eyes dont care, its just another rest before the day breaks again.
The fire cracks and cooks the the catch, hungry mouths wait, eager hands hold the plate.
As the bottle gets passed strangers share laughs, of times reminiscent of the one they share now.
So dont sit around with a frown feelin down cos that old tin car could take you outta this town.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC