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The Train is Waiting

The nib bends gently on the paper
well, I suppose there’s time;
A river of thoughts flow out
a third of a life is spent
in raven ink; the shapeless smoke
the molten mess of me, emerges

We slip, we push, we drag ourselves
into some sort of position
You can call it adulthood, you may be wrong
me, I call it wising-up, but I may be wrong
Lives change, worlds shrink, egos are appeased
we learn to slowly see, who it is we are

She held me, she released me, but I held her again
the roots spun, vines wrapped around themselves
caught in a web of love and self-loathing
One home, our home, a family - exploded
I made my peace and crawled into the future...

And drinking in and drinking down, six months of neat bile
destroy yourself, save yourself, love yourself and someone other
so the story goes, so it grows again, and then it’s over
another love, an honest love, an equal - exploded
I made my peace and strolled into the future...

The time slowly ticks round, the cogs of a mind align
it feels right to step clean away from all these memories
forge some new experience, swim out beyond my depth
to look back at all of this from some dizzying distance

Decision taken; ‘just come already, just come’ I say
I’m primed, then caught in the nothingness of waiting
so just one more, just time enough to scratch a few goodbyes
say a firm farewell, a good riddance to the certainty of now

Here are the last stutters of something scrawled within this county
And so I go... so I grow and test the limits of my potential
nib bending on fresh paper, black spilling everywhere
there is something coming; I can’t predict it, can’t see it yet
the train is waiting, I’ve just time enough to say my goodbyes...

(August 2011)

◄ Can You Hear The People Sing?

Only Moments ►


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