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March 26, 2021

Industry On The Swan

Industry On The Swan

There’s backyards in the valley
Right on the southern end
And the shire dump all their product
For road making and such.
There’s a steady stream of traffic
Carting to and fro and the rigs are getting bigger
Thanks to Charlton, Court and correct.

Now they’ve planned a new schoolhouse
‘Tween the mill and brickyard lights
And you should see the line up
At 9am to 3 each night.
There’s Volvos and Mercedes and every make between
With carry cots and safety seats.
And baby sleeping signs
As they vie for position with no passing lane,
Depositing their older kids, dodging north and south road train,
Dodging tippers carting clay in,
Dodging brick trucks heading out
And the shire joins the antics carting tar and stone about
And up and down the valley there’s black marks on the road
Where the housewife or the farmers tangled with a heavy load.

And you’ll hear the hiss of air brakes and the klaxon horns command
As he drops down half a dozen gears and directs the rig around.

This process is repeated throughout the valley drive
And it’s a credit to the drivers there’s not some loss of life.

It’s great to see light industry flourishing on the Swan;
Great to be part of it involved here on the Swan.


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December 26, 2019

Freight

Freight

Before air was conditioned
Not that long ago
Truckin’ traffic dodged along
quietley with the flow.

Dollying on, cross plain and range,
gibber flats distant
in shimmering haze.

Contending with problems,
roads constant attack.
Wheel bearings, brake shoes,
rocker boxes, spring packs,
juddering along
copping flack
from the track

There’s a rail head waiting
in weekend repose.
Platforms deserted,
goods shed door slid closed.

Rakes of wagons on spur
lines waiting to go.
Trucks homin’ in on Mondays rail yard,
rail staff shunt out wagons
to unload and reload.

And labourers sweat freely,
man handling loose freight,
swingin’ crank handles,
craned weights dangle in space.

Late afternoon breeze
kicks quietly in.
Railway Pub bar
beckons within.

As the town eases back on another long day,
dust n scrap paper swirl cross the rail yard.
Platforms deserted,
goods shed doors slid closed.

Happy Christmas
👍 jt


JT’s novel “The Ute” is now physical
the ute novel physical copy
> Available from Lulu.com in Paperback (pictured) for AU$24.99
> Now available at Lulu.com (Digital ePUB version) for AU$3.50
> Also available on iTunes and Barnes & Noble book stores.
> 1st edition of “The Ute” (34pp shorter) still available on Kindle (Kindle)
JT on Facebook

Paperback Electronic
Weight 0.41kg 0kg
Pages 238pp big writing 2000pp
Dimensions (cm) 14.81 x 20.98 4 dimensional


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April 16, 2017

Alternate Life

Alternate Life

They power walk
‘Round in wind n rain,
Hittin’ the ball oft
For little gain.

Rehash @ the bar
Highlights of last game.
Racin’ their mates
On hot rod tracks,

Crashin’ n wrecking

Next week they’ll be back
As the barbie smoke lingers,
Hot rods drift
Well in the night.

Burning the candle each end t
To achieve a start in gymkhanas,
Payin’ feed bills n fees.

All that was needed
Early in life
Was a chance on the road
Carting cattle @ night

And just before daybreak
Rain drizzlin’
Changing a tyre
Before checking your load
Make sure they’re all standin’
‘Fore it’s back on the road.

Home to the missus,
Kids, bills n fees.
Home to the shed
Fixin’ last trips loose bits,
Home to the pub
An’ a few of your mates,
Them on the road,
Kickin’ back from last trip.

Keepin’ up with the yoga
Out on the track,
Holdin’ position,
Strainin’ your back.
An awkward loose bolt
Holding the stack.

There’s time to reflect
By flooded creeks.
After abusing,
Each time wasting prick
Who held up the loading
With smokos n lunch
An’ parts coming late,
Fixin’ loose bits.

Time to reflect
An’ soak up the quiet,
River runs silent,
Gums softly sigh.

Watchin’ a roo
Sip @ the creek,
Coals glowing softly,
Outback TV.

Don’t need a tour guide
Up front of the mob,
Stars twinkle in thousands,
Milky Way’s leading on.

Sometimes meditating
May go on for days.
Ants in their thousands,
Regimental parades.

Kangaroos n cattle
Come in for a drink,
Emus stalk by
Working wide of the camp,
Comin’ in closer,
Dashing off n away.

Power-walkin’ around,
Back drinking black tea,
Tin dog for tucker
An’ a few Kimberley cold beers.

Attended the yoga
Tightening bolts.
Greased truck-n-trailer
Pumped up the tyres.

Gazed @ the river
An’ outback TV,
Turned into the swag
In an alternate life.

JT.

Buy my novel “The Ute”

The Ute is now available at Lulu.com. Click the image . . .
the ute book by john taylor now available at Lulu.com


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April 4, 2017

Demurrage

Demurrage

In business,
Demurrage is a delay
In delivery of a product
Via delivery truck.

When a delay occurs
With product delivery,
The delivery party
Can elect to claim

A no fault delay
By submitting a demurrage charge.

Criteria for allowable demurrage,
Payment conditions,
And payment terms
Are typically pre-negotiated
And accepted
By the vendor
Via contract

Prior
To conduct of business.

Some vendors allow
Free no-cost time
For limited hour(s)
When demurrage occurs.

Others do not allow
Free time for delays.

The demurrage charge
Is normally
An hourly rate.

Unforeseeable until delivery
Costs of delays
Are sometimes
Separately invoiced
From the cost of deliverable.

Road users who

  • tarry/
  • dawdle/
  • obstruct

Should
And may be charged
Demurrage.

Extra mass loads,
Cyclists,
Demonstrators,
Prayer groups etc.

May be charged

Demurrage

J.T.

Buy my novel “The Ute”

The Ute is now available at Lulu.com. Click the image . . .
the ute book by john taylor now available at Lulu.com


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May 15, 2015

Cyclists

Tempers are frayed
After long days
In a slow moving gridlock for home

When a Lycra clad lads
Make a dash ‘cross the pad
You’ve been plying for years
Back ‘n’ forth

Standing high, Pumping pedals
In frantic reggae a Congo line twist on its way.

To the next set of lights,
plucking sweaty wet tights,
slipping sprigs as they’re off on their way.

Pedals pump in reggae
in their dash on their way
A Congo line colourful course.


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March 9, 2015

One-armed Bandits

There’s a copper in the gutter
taking photographs of speed.
And there’s others take advantage
of camouflage from trees.

Stripping points and dollars
from passers passing by.
One armed bandit industry.
Preying on the need to drive.

Numbers are increasing
cross the length and breadth,
of Australia’s roadways,
coppers put ’em to the test.

Checking registration,
speed and alcoholic breaths
one armed bandit industry
Financed by the fines.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


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February 2, 2015

They Will Go Forever

They will go forever
Following the line
On and on wherever
Load ‘er up and try
Rivers running bankers,
cross mountains as they fly.
Down a range on bull dust flats.
Hours and days crawl by.
Lost out in the loneliness
Of guide post silent nights
Welcome morning star appears,
heralding first light.

They will go forever
Following the line.


1 Comment

January 26, 2015 ,

Hanging Around

Hanging round a truck yard,
waiting on a load.
Moonlight beaming gently.
Seasons ebb and flow.

Gleaming chrome and Alloy
bull bars in the night.
Polished rims and shiny studs
holding them on tight.

Ice packs diesel chatter.
Welcomes in the night,
Comfort in the knowing,
mozzies held back tonight.

A coupla cans you’d reckon,
Bit of time to think.
A couple more till nothing matters,
just get off and sleep.

Start up on the morrow,
Shaking musky heads
Just get up and into it.
Thinking up ahead.

Hanging round a truck yard,
coming on daylight,
People moving, doing,
getting on with life.

Following the roadway, following the life.
Upfront oñ the business,
Busy business life.

Hooking in, trailers swing,
Had a taste last night, ice paks Working wonderfully.
Pull up, what’s left the night.


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January 5, 2015 ,

Wood-Panelled Office

In my wood-panelled office,
cushion leather seats.
Ride, there’s no tomorrow
On electronic diesel steeds

‘Gainst headwinds, hills and grades,
Distance off ahead,
The sand gauge trickles slowly,
sunsets last rays,
blur lights ahead.

Far from restaurants,
coffee strips,
different mob out in the night.
Dancing on a moonbeam,
chasing stars and dreams,
pausing engine idling,
drifting with the tide.

Rolling on a milky way,
chasing stars twinkling display.
Trickling sand marking time,
as daylight grabs the grand parade
of picaninny orange dawn,
scrub trees poised on stark parade,
silhouette against a brand new day.

Tips the gauge on hills and winds.
Trickling sands on diesel steeds,
steady progress through the day.


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December 22, 2014

Sleep

Sleep will overtake me
If I pause awhile.
Resting for a moment
As moments fly on by,
Soaking up the sunshine.
Gleaming through dense leaves.
Muscles relax slowly
Poised on edge to leave.

Drifting through each layer
of gently shifting sand.

Embedded in a mould of clay,
suspended where you lay.
Swathed in quiet solitude,
hours tick slowly by,
lulled by intermittent breeze,
washed over by tides.

Completely overtaken,
Picaninny dawn’s arrived.
Morning stars a slivered gleaming steel,
above an orange oval sky.
Unseen by sleeping forms below,
twitching,
chasing
gentle dreams
as sleep thoughts ebb and flow.

Resting for the moment
as moment’s flow on by.


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December 15, 2014 ,

Night

Comfort comes in closing
Last bits of the day
Panoramic sunset
gives to milky way

and an ocean rolls forever
in star lights bright display.

Dozing off and dreaming
twitching in half sleep
poised half start tomorrow
before darkness retreats

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


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December 1, 2014

Roses

Never stopped to smell the roses.
Sweet scent followed on the drive.
Reminders ‘mongst the people,
roses round the countryside.

Occasionally they prick and tear,
a minute’s quiet respite.
Back on the drive with roses’
sweet scent wafts down the line.


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October 27, 2014

Couldn’t Make It

Til he couldn’t make it,
in the saddle or buggy seat,
when creakin’ limbs no longer climbed,
wind mills too much a feat

And cattle strayed too far afield,
on strings of wet clay pans
and bore their calves out on crown land
or poddy dodgers lease rebrand.

As time ran out on drifting sand,
riffled round stock troughs ‘n’ mills
and markets came and slid sideways,
to come ‘n’ go again

someday and life rolled on as wind mills clanked,
missed fan blades make toothless grins,
flogged round lopside,
fan tail face into the wind.

Cyclonic rains wash on their course
and flood the hinterland,
overflowing watersheds, creeks flow bankers from inland,
spreading out a muddy stain on swell and sea green grass,
lush growth on livestock drowned in flood,
sailing past in clouds of flies swarm there long dead stinking repast.

Around creek bend ‘n’ sand bank swirl,
beach the carcass, on the bank

Flies hoe in harder on their task
as wild dogs slink in
from the bush tearing lumps of rotten beef,
carrion crow n eagle land,
pecking, tearing where they can.

Animal parts drift off the bank accompanied by a swarm of flies,
downriver past a toothless grin
from windmills slowly turning blades,
fan tails jerking straight upwind.

‘Til sunset slowly way out west
‘n’ flies retire off in the night
and slowly now the carcass floats,
off the bank down in midstream,
minus bits gone off before
to fertilise the sea green floor
and market gardens down the coast

As years ‘n’ seasons head their course,
slow muddy stains spread out at sea.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


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October 13, 2014

100k

Doin’ the Dollar
Hookin’ in hard
rainbow heat streaks on exhaust pipe chrome stacks.

Doin’ the dollar
on along through the day,
wheels dust rill spirals,
rigs slowing at last.

Checkin’ gear before sunset’s last feeble light rays,
dwindle to nothing,
expire for the day.

Lost in the gloom of twilight n dark,
shadows loom,
movin’ slowly,
only tricks in the dark.

Rollin’ along,
lights cutting the night.
Axles gentle hammer
marking time from last light.


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September 15, 2014

Red Dirt Drive

Dropping off the bitumen, onto the red dirt drive.
Dodging, straddling, backing off, corrugations, pot holes strewn,
along the red dirt drive.

Bull dust surfs off the steerers, pushed out by the drives,
obliterates trailers and load
on the red dirt drive.

We’re dodging ‘long quite steady, making out a country mile.
Landscape changes constantly,
upon our red dirt drive.

Sand hills plot our course, along the red dirt drive,
dust billows rear and sides.

Broadcast across the country, prevailing wind decides.
Day in, day out, well in each night.
Late night quiet respite, engine idles, fix a tyre.
Sluice dregs of blackened billy tea, get back and make a mile.

Out on the red dirt drive.


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September 1, 2014

Life’s Highway

Mind keeps wandrin’ further back.
Hectic learning, time well packed,
with observations on the road
as life unrolls and comments publicly unfold
as days ‘n’ weeks turn on the dial,
of life ‘n’ times movin’ on.

Movin’ on, when nought mattered,
cards dealt out for all to see,
for what see’s worth,
a royal flush’s not
a tinker’s curse on life
as time speeds merrily.

Learning from first light of day, till after dark,
heads in a spin and poker-faced one can but grin
and battle on with the charade of knowing
public looks parade.

As appointment scrolls unfold,
and appointers comment scolds
and retribution mounts
’til all is in turmoil within
and so with stoic steadfast grin
it’s sally forth on life’s highway,
beckoning its lamp-lit way,
reflecting stars upon their course,
‘n’ friendships won,
some lost in space.

Surging forth tunes lessons learnt
or lost, unseen,
stacked up in a memory box.
To be drawn on as we play.
Out our life on life’s highway.


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August 25, 2014

Ya Life

I do trucks and dirt
And beer at night
and start again
before daylight.

Summer, winter
all the same.
Fixin’ stuff
in this old game.

Day in day out
and half the night,
battle on,
there’s no respite

No rest from something
that we love.
Ordained by someone
up above.

‘Course there’s others
down below feed hell
and brimstone where we go
battlin’ ‘gainst the odds that flow.

Tsunami waves of grief and pain
achieving where few others gain
a foothold
in our day to day.

As we contend with rates and taxes,
attitudes and cultural laxes
and hell and brimstone flows before, surfin’
Up, upon a shore of life as most ‘aint seen before.

And “ya life” won’t ever be the same as
As life rolls on in this ‘ol game,
of rock ‘n roll and shiftin’ freight
and whomsoever knows the date
of the next disastrous quake.

Where all will level out before
No doubt to be continued.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


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August 11, 2014

In the Boardroom

Sitting up high in the board room
Wood grain walled inside
Panoramic vistas passing,
Miles fly quietly by.

Cool breeze wafting gently,
Air-con up high,
Shimmering flats and ranges.
Disappear far behind

Sitting up high in the boardroom
Rolling on through the night
Morning star slow appearing
Out east in soft daylight

Another day at the office
Tending direction and drive
Another long day in your stride
Backed off on kerb sided Roadways.

Stop and go flashing lights
Hemmed in by lemming-like traffic
Loaded, just let her fly
Out through stop and go traffic
Out where your loaded and fly.
On and on through the night.

Another star in the morning,
Hanging on first light.
Diamond stud in the dawning,
Lost right out on first light.

Another day at the office.
Tending direction and drive

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


No Comments

August 4, 2014

Roadways

There’s a blaze in the ranges,
way off in the haze.
Indicating direction
the graded track takes.

Along up a gully,
droppin’ her back,
out through the ranges,
through to the next flat.

Rock-littered stretches
lead on through the day,
red soft ground beckons
near on a highway

as day slowly lingers
Nights moving in
silhouettes etched
‘long this outback highway.


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June 2, 2014

Seasons

Once I knew no seasons.
Just rain ‘n hail or shine.
Travelling cross far borders,
chasin’ others’ time.

Daylight saving pushing,
each state end’s long drive.
Weather fronts loom way up front,
piled black clouds spill

Left ‘n’ right out to horizons lost to view.
wipers slapping steady rain,
headlights beaming through,
again ‘n back across the seasons,
sunlight shines again.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
You can buy my yarn “The Ute”
for less than 5 bucks

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


No Comments

May 5, 2014

Red Dirt Drive

Dropping off the bitumen,
onto the red dirt drive.
Dodging,
straddling,
backing off,
corrugations,
pot holes strewn,
along the red dirt drive.

Bull-dust surfs off the steerers,
pushed out by the drives,
obliterates trailers
and load on the red dirt drive.

We’re dodging ‘long quite steady,
making out a country mile.
Landscape changes constantly,
upon our red dirt drive.

Sand hills plot our course,
along the red dirt drive,
dust billows rear and sides.
Broadcast across the country, prevailing wind decides.

Day in,
day out,
well in each night.
Late night quiet respite,
engine idles,
fix a tyre.

Sluice dregs of blackened billy tea,
get back and make a mile.
Out on the red dirt drive.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


No Comments

April 14, 2014

Butter Box Acco’s

When butter box acco prime movers, Perkins powering the drive.
And 900 nylon cross-ply Tyres, considered, best down the line.
And the road and load, close average, was well stacked the other side.
And it stretched forever before you, well known
from before on your mind.

Winding around on the ridges, slogging cross bull-dust flats,
dipping in creeks and gutters, always coming back.
On line with far horizons, meandering distant tracks.
Now butter box acco prime movers have moved way past their prime.

Legendary loads and drivers.
Immortalized down the line.
Painted in glowing detail, accomplishments out on the track.
Bolstering last loads achievements, disasters coped there and back.
Butter box acco prime movers, paid a fair price as they plied.
Every road and load in Australia, making
It back in good time.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


No Comments

March 31, 2014

While the Tail-shaft Turns

While the tail-shaft’s turning
And the tyres are holding tight
While the tail-shaft’s turning
Keep steaming through the night.

Stop to check the binders
Loose ropes and shifting gear
Stop to boil the billy
Often wishing we weren’t here.

Tightening up the wheel-nuts
Tightening up chains
Steak twitching on glowing coals
Hot tins of Irish stew.

While the tyres are cooling
Swag roll for a bed
Tail-shaft slow turning
Only in my head


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March 24, 2014

Roadside Grave

A few spare saplings
A rocky cairn
Water dripping from a 44

Truckies stopping day or night
Replenish that vital supply

May crack a can
A few quiet words to their old mate

None stay, bit shy to camp
Perhaps a few too many brews
Wake up fresh, seems all right.

Next trip replace that trickle line
A long hot summer would knock ’em back.

Shadin a lone grave
On a lonely track.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


1 Comment

Industry On The Swan
Freight
The Ute (2nd edition) out!
Alternate Life
Demurrage
Happy Christmas 2016
Cyclists
One-armed Bandits
They Will Go Forever
Hanging Around
Wood-Panelled Office
Sleep
Night
Roses
Couldn’t Make It
100k
Red Dirt Drive
Life’s Highway
Ya Life
In the Boardroom
Roadways
Seasons
Red Dirt Drive
Butter Box Acco’s
While the Tail-shaft Turns
Roadside Grave