My Train Journey

As human beings, we are blessed.
With such a life defining zest
To make our way around this world
And pick up pieces which we’ve hurled

And as these human beings we,
Are gifted individually
To cascade through life with slight grace
And leap through years at our own pace

Or else, just catch the train.
So catastrophically inane
Of me, as it turned out to be
On my train journey.

On my train journey, my eyes
Chop up the blissful countryside
Through those shitty train windows
Absorbed in seconds as the wind blows

It all away. On my train journey.
My fellow passengers and me
Completely unaware that we were
All part of the same adventure

We’re all travellers, set to make goals
To meet our friends, or beat our foes
We’ve got so much to learn and share
We’re restless warriors without care…

Aren’t we?
Because to me, we all appear to be
If you examine the facts
A bunch of uptight, silent twats.

I’m always the one wedged inbetween
A man behind his laptop screen
A slick taught teen trying not to be seen
And a senior citizen named Geraldine.

Who is the only one who’ll make
The quite foolish mistake
Of trying to make conversation
With the grumpiest fuck at the train station.

On my train journey.
Makes me learn the
Correct train etiquette is thus
We don’t like you. You don’t like us.

Even though Geraldine will give it a try
You can’t help but glance at her glass eye
And then get off one station earlier
Before my stance grows slightly surlier.

I’ve got that look in my eye - see.
That means you have to pass right by me.
Not quite the same as Geraldines
But you catch my drift, I mean…

I’m not usually like that! Injecting with conveyed ease
Verses in my poetry mistreating dear old ladies.
I’m four stops away from my destination
And completely immersed in indignation

I can’t believe what’s become of me.
On my train journey, I’ll get you to see
My quite requited plight of such refutable transportation
That might ignite a conjugate of mutual frustration.

Maybe, I overlooked the potentiality of the bus station.
Maybe I would loosen up, and flex with celebration.
But bussing is another thing that brings me to such treason
But fussing’s more enlightening if you have a decent reason.

So I hang my head low, and I sit.
On chewing gum embedded seat, and spit.
Next to the passenger who looks like Yoda
With the unusual pungent odour.

As Platform 2 slides into sight
Meadows, and nature blurs to white lights
And I might try and start to see
The perks of my train journey.

As human beings we are blessed
But with such life defining zest,
To live our lives right to the max we
Probably should just take a taxi.