Diary of A Country Atheist © Pantelis Roussakis 2012

Like a pack of turtle hunting foxes, Eco-writers and thinkers gather. On the brown, beleaguered and bevelled banks of the Bellinger river,
it's majestic course / casually dissected / by black bitumen scars

& decaying bridges…
ATop the flooding stream of olive brown bovine bullshit, a mat of toxic camphor litter, Merrily meanders to Mylestom… And when the blessed rain falls, it fucking falls

& falls & falls & falls..
In Spring,

Foul, diesel spewing stock trucks,
Churn the purple carpets of jacaranda blossoms like any other Ponder Autumn,

& experience Farmville tycoons,

road kill.

attack the rolling hills of feeble grass and weeds
with slashers of mechanised greed. Swelter in Summer amongst, the smell of fragrant wildflowers

& the Omnipresent

stench of ten thousand bats hangs on each afternoon breeze. Only permeated by the fresh rush of humid air as loggers

haul adolescent trees to their annihilation.
In Winter Esoteric scribes huddled around nostalgic fireside scenes ruminate about numbness while the thick,

sweet,

choking smoke

envelops the whole town

Enjoy your stay.

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