Commute Poems

riding the 644-614

What a two-year period we communicate, it
could have been you, yeah, you, Your
presence so full of vibrant hue, Day-to-day,
you give me a prompt, To hop on the 644 and or 
614, To the world of life, revived and anew.

For two good years, you invigorated me,
With witty and easy-going conversations,
Talking to you brought charm and cheer,

The Daily Commute

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

MATCHMAKING COMMUTE

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

Bay Bridge Commute

the bridge is biggest
when large rain comes down to kill
wet wheels wishing life

Self Commute

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,

Morning Commute

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

Wet Morning: Nature Does It Yet

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

Eternal Commute

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

Presence

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.

A Winter Evening Commute

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

Morning Commute

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

Eavesdrop

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

The Daily Commute

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

My 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

Expat Desert Commute

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!

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