ROBERTLOUIS
DEMAYO
ROBERTThis collection of poetry, prose, and journal excerpts was composed during a fifteen-year period during which I was mostly nomadic. I traveled at least six months a year each year and preferred overland journeys (at the end of this collection is my travel bio). I’ve left the writings in their original state in the hopes that they will convey the feelings of the time better not cleaned up. Thanks for taking the time and sharing the road with me.
Sun in my eyes, wind in my hair,
Reach in my pocket, but I’ve no money there.
Don’t have any food or a bed for the night,
But I can’t help thinking this is working just right.
You think I’ve gone mad and laugh at my ways,
But this life is free – I like it that way.
Jill’s covered with sweat, the sun’s trying to beat her,
But she laughs it off; her beauty runs deeper.
In the heat for an hour and not a ride yet,
My shoulders are stinging, my body is wet.
The bus comes along, but we don’t have the fare,
We get on regardless and fight down the stares.
The buses are cool, and if worse comes to worse,
We’ll relax for an hour before regaining our thirst.
The driver lets us stay, my bad luck streak may falter.
But he searches my bags and finds my last dollar.
I sit on the floor, my shorts torn at the seams,
I may have no money, but I’m living my dreams.
(Nergav desert, Israel – September 86)
Note: About hitchhiking broke with a fellow traveler, Jill,
from the Masada ruins to Elate (on the Red Sea) to find work.
Claws in my stomach…
a little hunger makes you think clear.
I drift through Kings Cross like a ghost,
Watching faces and strange people.
Some dry toast for breakfast.
Bag of chips for dinner.
I’ve found lots of friends,
But there’s no work in sight.
Often, I’ve gone two days without food,
But always on the third, something comes through.
Long, tunnel-like alleys, Coco Cola in neon.
A couple of bums share a bottle,
One’s passed out in the street.
Young girls in black leather,
Long legs, fishnet stockings.
And sure, I get tempted,
But some food would do more.
Confused tourist with their cameras.
A train arrives with a parade of yuppies.
Crowded bars filled with laughter,
But Coco-Cola in neon is all that I drink.
(Sydney, Australia – August 90)
Hwange Nat. Park, Zimbabwe - 1992
Orkney, South Africa, about to descend 8,000 feet into the deepest verticle shaft on the planet.
If you enjoyed following along on my journies and want to see what travel books I would recommend, please check out my list on Shepherd.
