Here is a selection of some of my work

Towns across Australia have some threads that they all share

Threads that stir the heart like a passionate love affair

These threads became the binders that attached them to our hearts

A soft spot for the Aussie way and memories we impart

Most were formed by settlers ever adapting their lifestyle

To a land of contradiction, her beauty arid and fertile

A land of animals never seen and a people much the same

But a land of opportunity, of sunstance and of fame

And opportunity they did take, industry would arise

From nothing these towns would become the hub of many lives

Saddlers, blacksmiths, publicans, rail station, general store

The lifeblood of a district with supplies and so much more

These towns they built this nation, not the cities we see now

Even they were once upon a time a tiny town

These towns were hubs for farmers, loggers, miners, migrants too

A place to send your goods, catch a mate or have a brew

Then there are the stories, unique to every town

That nutty farmer, local drunk, "That kid that acts the clown!"

Then there are the families that for generations known

The first ones in the district that saw crop or livestock grown

Now some grew into cities, major, minor, small

While others didn't change their numbers didn't rise or fall

Some shrunk to a village once the industry was gone

Yet others dissappeared with but a memory to live on

If only I could see what those walls did all those years

The bussinesses that came and went, the family joys and tears

The stories I could tell, oh the poetry I could write

The heritage and the history, I'd be here all bloody night

One last observation, prerequsites of towns

The general store, an Aussie post and the local clown

The run down railway station and some kind of social club

And deary me, how could I forget the local pub

So the decades, even centuries, these towns have been around

Don't forget the history and the stories that abound

See every town is different but their story rings the same

Each one is the birth place of the nation they became

© Matt Langdon 2013

Once upon a time, in a dry and barren land

The cattle moved on foot, by a stockmans skillful hand

They called it the long paddock and the trip was long and slow

To move them 'tween the stations, rain, hail or shine they'd go

Then back in ‘34 we saw change upon the land

A machine to move the cattle by another kind of hand

"It'll never work!" The stockmen cried, "The cattle, they'll die of fright!"

Undettered they had a go, history they'd rewrite

And from these pioneering days a legend then was born

Of men who'd travel weeks and months down tracks that they had worn

These tracks became their highways, their trucks became their life

Long paddock stockmen faded out, this new breed came to life

Since these pioneering days the industry has grown

From campfires by the highway side to truck stops with a throne

From hammocks 'neath the trailers, to bunks that feel like home

2-60 air con, twin stick box to ice packs, autos, chrome

This younger generation of which I am a part

Have no idea the work they did when trucking got its start

We whinge about conditions, roads and time away

But our pioneers I know are proud of how good things are today

A freeway was unheard of, and bitumen was rare

No on call mechanics or tyre bloke to change a spare

These pioneers spents months away on a trip to a cattle station

They fought and fought for better days, on their backs we built this nation

These monsters that we see today with six decks on their back

Are worlds apart, from the days of stockmen on the track

So when you see a triple crate thundering on its way

Remember they're the new breed, the stockmen of today

Written by

Matt Langdon

(c) Matt Langdon 2013

 I need to give a thank you to someone I know not

Someone who's long passed away, someone that time forgot

Someone who's just a memory, and left their family bruised

Someone whose final resting place their family did not choose

The calling they did heed to go and fight on foreign shores

And stand up for a way of life defending rich and poor

To stand against oppression, tyranny, and genocide

And would have gone down swinging, on the day they died

The saddest part of war is we know not where they rest

My heart it grieves to give a send-off worthy of the best

Their sacrifice was ultimate, the price they paid supreme

They gave their life for you and me, a hero not since seen

Then there are the others who returned full of regret

Lamenting that it wasn't them whose final fate was met

They watched as mate and stranger, dropped on either side

Whose memories and friendship now in those old eyes reside

Relieved that they came home, from a hell that they can't shake

The wonder why their mate not them, still their heart it breaks

Their service and their sacrifice a nation did expect

Our ANZAC's gave us freedom, liberty and respect

Those that serve us still, they do with ANZAC pride

In our hearts and memories all of you reside

You fought to give me freedom, laid down your life for me

A debt I'll never be able, to pay back to thee

So every year on ANZAC I'll read this poem again

The only way I'm able, say thank you with my pen

Know you're not forgotten, and let us share your regret

Thank you to our diggers, God bless, lest we forget

Written by

Matthew Langdon

25/04/2013

© Matthew langdon 2013

Sacrifice has many forms and reasons are the same

Those that do these selfless acts rarely point and blame

They act when there is need of love, compassion and times of pain

And never broadcast what they do or act for personal gain

But the greatest sacrifice of all to give away one's life

Like those who fought for freedom when the world was full of strife

But only one Man's sacrifice no other can compare

Paid a debt unpayable, a debt that we all shared

This Man was born to be a king a leader to the Jews

The promises He made if we follow, we won't lose

In His short time on earth, He brought love and faith and hope

And soldiered on through trials that no other could have coped

He healed oh-so many, His words were pure truth

His compassion never wavered whether elderly or youth

His heart was for a people who spiritually were lost

And finished what He came to do despite what it would cost

The price He paid was steep, His treatment inhumane

We hold higher expectations of the criminally insane

His body it was broken, His spirit they tried to crush

Generations on, still their actions make us blush

I simply cannot fathom, the cruelty of His death

Those nails driven through His flesh longing for that last breath

But even in unspeakable pain His heart was still for me

And through the Blood of Jesus Christ I am truly free

But Yahweh wasn't finished when Jesus said it was

Three days on He raised Him To finish off His cause

See the miracle of one Man's death it opened up the way

So we could speak directly to Abba Father Yahweh

A sacrafice was needed to set all of us free

And Jesus Christ the perfect Lamb did just that for me

See now I have salvation, because He paid the price

Jesus Christ my saviour, the perfect sacrifice

Written by 

Matthew Langdon  05/05/2013 

© Matt Langdon 2013

The real reason for Easter!