Bora born

The middle way _



On a muddies' morning you'll hear thempla sing
spruking their mates on thredbo's sure winter fun.

The nation's borders closed for summer pursuits

a winter plan for the alps what's there to lose

laid back, tanned up dressed down by cairn's autumn sun.



Oh! thempla people, half come from somewhere else

cultures to bottle in language to sustain.

Overseas they must fly as if on the run

monied wealth to blow on their setting suns, in

a round robin of comforts to ease the pain.



Their kids entitled, indifferent to all, wealth
never ending, drawn on account from raw stores.

The pay back in quiet moments of the night

never ending cycles of magic so bright

sheepled lives consumed by desires to have more.



Pull back, stretch out with your carnal minds, settle

in a place yupla feel there's more room inside
for your humanity exposed as it should

to the oppressed backlit by what if I could

the no choice of awareness pressed to imbibe.







- O -

©  22nd may 2021 _ Ian James Daniel

Author's notes are here.



Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The middle way _

106,354 Poems Read

Sponsors