At Nahal Oz, Hamas hurled a substance weird
It burst into flames, released a gas to be feared
Jews suffocated in minutes, but we don’t know
Who made it, what it was, nothing to show.
At a theater in Moscow, rebels came in
Took the audience hostage, in the cause of Chechin
Russian police made an invisible gas flow
Terrorists were led away, what gas used we don’t know
Tourists describe a chemical they call “devil’s breath”
Makes you a zombie, in some cases causes death
Some Columbians use it, so visitors beware
It may seem underhanded, but crime isn’t fair.
Madman in the commuter train, makes fake phone calls
To warn the commuters of drug aerosols
He says criminals can attack this way, and you wouldn’t know
That you’re a victim, of a gas drug flow.
He says he’s a victim, they got his keys
Then entered his house, easy as a breeze
Affected his behavior, damaged his brain
White coats lead this guy away, but is reality insane?
What you don't know can hurt you, and it gets worse
You can blame natural causes, when your luck hits a reverse
When your health goes bad, when troubles accrue
Now it's possible someone's doing it to you.
She seemed oblivious to the smattering of lightly falling rain;
He holding her hand...and as much as his very life should
Depend upon this.
Overhead, a commuter train hastening down the clattering track;
And right there, underneath the bridge, suddenly pulling him back,
She halted and gave him a look that spoke so plain.
It was in that moment, head tilted, leaning over...she then planted
That fatal kiss.
Methinks he would forever more chance the perils of Dantes' Flame...
Even being that it might just be the most desperate of chances
For all things to remain the same.
The white rabbit had gone rogue as told.
His wife was at home with their child Bold.
Only one child? You are kidding right?
This was amazing for rodents who live in Bright.
White rabbit got more socialized too.
He wore a suit, and a tie fashioned of blue.
Took the commuter train every day to work.
He’s strange others said. His coffee doth perk!
He drinks coffee! This is not what a rabbit does.
This was stated by his cousins Once and Was.
The white rabbit paid no attention to them.
He wore a ring too with an emerald gem.
OFF TO SCHOOL
So you're off to boarding school,
It'll be the making of you, my lad,
Muses the bespectacled gentleman,
Sat behind his morning paper,
The commuter train steaming
Its trundling way
Past opened curtains
Of genteel suburbia.
Familiarly hypnotic rhythm
From the clickety-clacking track
Continues, scarcely heeded
By the carriage's motley clientele,
Disturbed from comatose reveries,
Enduring the drilled strains
Of unwelcome conversation.
Hostile eyes look up in
Bristling annoyance
At a shy, enclosed boy,
Who keeps locked-in silence
On his first uncertain foray
Into the strange world beyond
The comfortable boundaries
Of his homely playpen.
They are looking out tiny boxes
traveling toward the city from the suburbs
wearing tennis shoes on their tired feet
Many have left their dress shoes at work
Some stop at a gym on the way,
these are the high brows who do not punch in
It is Chicago, nineteen ninety-six
My husband is in one of these jam trains
looking out his tiny box, as trees and cows fly by
Upon arrival, the gritty of the city meets them
Gray concrete is their first welcome mat
They are careful to not fall into the trenches
Some race by, but most march as robots
staying in order until they reach Union Station
People stop being human here
The stores are expensive, so most cannot shop
Their lunch sandwiches are tucked into hot baggies
inside the briefcase they hold onto as they march
a line of unsmiling creatures
who have left their mommy and daddy cap forty miles out
being an employee or an employer, less than human now
On the commuter train he was a man of routine
Finish the crossword at exactly eight nineteen
Seven down was particularly tricky today
However this man knew he would find a way
Once seven down was done it was a breeze
Then out came his hanky for his daily sneeze
Routines are right for some and not for others
I'm more free spirited and so are my brothers
The man of routine gets off the crowded train
He's ready no doubt to start his day once again
Will get into work at ten minutes to nine
Post to be opened and letters to sign
Does this man have the same sandwiches for lunch
Cheese and pickle would be my certain hunch
How boring it must be doing the same thing once more
Doing something different would be better for sure
nineseventeen PM
a slow drip torments the kitchen
the TV argues with the walls
in another room
that damn mosquito waits
tuning its violin
a distant odor of skunk
sneaks under the door
two crickets argue
over the temperature
worms sniff the cool damp air
a commuter train hurries
to make last call
a lazy dog farts
in hope the skunk is listening
a kettle whistles
soft slippers shuffle
tea…..and toast
call to the past
come sit awhile
John G. Lawless
©5/21/2018
Once upon a time in a very dark and dreary, creepy, place where the wind was howling through the black trees,
And the branches looked like swords and machetes, I was sitting with my 5 year-old-daughter Susie, if you please.
We were seated in a mini-station-wagon, at a dark and dreary train station waiting for Daddy to arrive on the commuter train, scheduled for 5:03.
If you know me, you know I can be a little impulsive, so on this night, I decided to do something creepy, but what would it be?
Immediately knowing, I turned to my 5-year-old daughter and yelled "BOO!" right in her face, silly 32 year old me.
Susie did not scream. She did not jump. She merely punched me as hard as I have ever been punched in my nose, a bleed.
I was laugh-crying now. Crying because my nose felt like it had been hit by a semi, laughing at my own stupidity.
Susie felt very sorry for me and kept apologizing over and over. I told her not to worry, I deserved it, me being me.
I had a black and blue nose for awhile, but even after
that faded away, I knew that Susie was assertive to a T.
I was so proud of the fact that I had raised a daughter who did not take any idiocy from anyone, including me.
I wonder what a musician’s life is like
As I notice you nonchalantly carrying your instrument
Much like keeping your voice boxed and in a velvet bag
I look at you and wonder as we sit in the commuter train
Pondering about a musician’s lows and highs
Wondering about your split personality
Like this one here where you sit alone with your switch off
Obviously recharging your batteries
Regenerating as you think of your next gig
I imagine your friends and fans who love to party
I can almost see them around you in a hazy cloud
Yet here you sit alone quiet with your case
Once open I know you’d suddenly come to life
Goodbye then
This is your stop
Goodbye
And I just sit here and continue
Wondering what a musician’s life is like
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2020
Sam slept through his alarm once again
So dashed to catch the commuter train
But today he is fine
‘Autumn leaves’ block the line
He’s off the hook … his boss can’t complain!
2nd June 2016
Distant horns announced the eight am,
commuter train, from Darlington's approach
and as I crossed the bridge, at Traitor's Gate,
I saw some lines were blocked by heavy snow.
As it neared,
I waved my jacket,
but the driver,
never saw it.
He took the bend
and kept proceeding.
Those on board were
praying, screaming,
while the monster lost its way and flewwww.....
Into the frozen lake below!
Silence....
like its shattered icy surface,
pulled tight together.
I had to wait until the sergeant,
jotted down my witness statement.
So, that is why, Dear Miss McGoul,
today, I'm really late for school!
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