A long train ride
two people share the same bench
silence between them
Second class carriage, in the second class train,
Second class passengers all shuffling their feet,
Trains late again as they walk through the rain,
Train company says there is no need to explain.
Work, work we just need to get to work,
Mustn't be late, we can't be seen to shirk,
Money, money just got to make money,
The more that I make means more for the tax man to take.
The train stopped again, it's the wrong type of rain,
Stare out the window, there's that man walking his dog again,
The station is literally just around the bend, if I could get off I would be there in seconds,
But at least it's dry in here so I will sit tight I reckon.
Man meets Woman
Saw each other as just another commuter
Average straphangers
They weren’t expecting romance
Subway ride through the love tunnel
Suddenly a change of pace
Rush hour minute
Usual crowd
As the Man and Woman were pinned together on a crowded subway train
This is where the subway romance began to build up
Eye to Eye facing each other
The man kiss to the woman
Love came front and center target
The romance of two
They dated for months and three years
They were now Husband and Wife
The daily subway ride had made the romance rise
No surprise
Transit hub match
the bridge is biggest
when large rain comes down to kill
wet wheels wishing life
I wonder what it would be like
to have a removable headstone,
to have my own portable waymark
for this ever passing world.
Stuck in heavy triadic
the road slithers slowly forward
on my wet surface.
I am the traffic I move through.
I am driven to a small park.
where children
are running around in a circle
while a stationary adult watches.
If I could, I would replant my tombstone there,
there in the center of the children,
as something for them to turn around.
It's not right
that they should all be revolving like that,
spinning around nothing at all.
He had to queue to wake up,
there were a lot of people
ahead of him.
Some carried their beds
on their shoulders
dreams wrapped tightly
between rocking scapular.
Some are clearly sleeping now
they must have slipped through
at the end of a drowsy fantasy.
Eventually his body
shuffled into the world
but by then h had forgotten
where in the world
he belonged.
H had to pick up pieces of memory
from a life strewn around,
while somnambulating
upon alien ground.
I
Wet sky, I
Must greet morning
Rewards my eye
Flying beings swarming
II
Birds, bats, locusts?
Suddenly swarms sundered -
Sundered by Comorants
Usual places wet
None for drying
Winged variety morning
Commuting to feed
As employees do
Routines go on
Beautiful -- wet, too
each ant scurries
the melodrama plays on
directed misdirection
the constant hurry
nor rhyme nor reason
rules the roost
when whirl and bump
are what's produced
As I traversed beneath the early morning glow-
With cotton candy skies illuminating the beginning hours--
I found my heart calling to your in the midst of the beauty,
Begging to bask in its glory with you by my side.
The winter darkness falls before the day
Has run its course, long ere the eyes of those
Who labor seek surcease from weariness.
The home-bound traffic winds its halting way
Beneath the moon-bound Evening Star and slows—
A mess.
And so I sit with promises to keep,
Ensnarled within a concrete wilderness
As news and music streams from radios.
At last the exit home—to eat, to sleep,
And rest.
I had to queue to wake up,
there were a lot of people
ahead of me.
Some carried their beds
on their shoulders
dreams wrapped tightly
between rocking shoulder blades.
Some are clearly sleeping now
they must have slipped through
at the end of a drowsy fantasy.
Eventually my body
shuffles into the world
but by then I had forgotten
what ‘the world’ means.
I had to pick up pieces of memory
from a life strewn around,
while somnambulating
upon an alien ground.
Eavesdrop into my ear the sweet nectar that I hear
Who did what to whom? I need to know how this ends
It fulfils me
I'll just sit and listen, don't you worry for I wont intrude
I hear subtle tones of welcoming for which you elude to
I'll steal your stories as I steal glances
Hoarding them
I work alone though others are in on it too
An audible tabloid for all to hear
Hear ye hear ye
I hear you and so can this whole subway
The hot and packed train is our daily routine,
The suited grey workers completing the scene,
Ruefully contemplating their daily grind,
With blank and grey faces and blank and grey minds.
Around in the carriage you hear the feint sounds,
Of headphones and stereos dotted around,
A lone woman's voice can be heard down the aisle,
As she loudly makes statements into her mobile.
Though seemingly aimed at her friend on the phone,
Her statements are delivered in a loud forceful tone,
Whilst apparently seeking a work task progressed,
She is keen that the carriage are suitably impressed.
And sat in the corner alone sits a man,
Who's starting his day with his second beer can,
A woman is reading a dubious book,
whilst people around her give her dubious looks.
The sights and the sounds and the faces of grey,
Repeated relentlessly day after day,
As much of a trap as your mobile or suit,
Is the daily routine of the daily commute.
This morning as I was driving to work
A car passed by that was driven by a jerk.
He flew by me and then cut in front,
But I didn’t care much for his little stunt.
I dare not honk in this day and age;
He might just shoot me to show his rage;
Nor show my displeasure by flashing my brights;
lest I end up as the subject of a fight.
I pull beside him and look at him long;
He flips me off like I did something wrong.
This is my life; it’s such a pity;
my daily commute through the big city.
This daily commute is starting to suck;
going to work each day to make a buck.
I say to myself why not retire,
And quit this commute before I expire.
Daily drive fraught with stress
One wrong move what a mess
Looking left, looking right
Praying neither will bring fright
All seems clear, so off we go
Straight and fast, avoiding foe
All strapped in and knuckles white
Let him pass! Avoid the fight
Can't make trouble, no friend is near
Don't you know we're not wanted here?
Was that a shot? Stoke the Fire!
Not today it was just a tire
Five miles more, we're almost there
Pulse is up, but no worse for wear
We made it here, we passed the test
I sure am glad I wore my vest
What we'll do to make a buck
Same tomorrow, wish us luck
3 June 03
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