Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Nothing left in this old town I felt I didn't have much choice I jumped on board a west bound freight It was there I heard the voice..... "Boy, this here is my car" "You keep the rules, and you'll be fine" "I don't know you, you don't know me" "Boy, this car is mine" I squinted in the darkness I tried to focus on the sound That voice there in the boxcar As rough as any I had found I asked him where he came from He spoke but wasn't clear Everywhere and Nowhere And right now from right here Now boy, Keep your distance Keep quiet, leave me be I don't like conversation You keep to you, and I to me Just then, the train car shifted That there's the final shunt You're safe now boy inside this car The rail men stopped their hunt He said that there shunting noise Is the starting of a song The train soon will start moving Everyone is moving on While the cars are stagnant You know, not moving, sitting still The rail men all go hunting For us hobo's , if you will That shunting sound is heaven It means we are onto who knows where And frankly boy, you know deep down It really isn't fair I asked him what he meant by that He said, I've said enough As time goes by, you sound some smart You'll pick up on this stuff The silence then took over He was sleeping, so did I He was snoring quite contently I couldn't find sleep, I wonder why? About an hour later He sparked a match and smoke And again from in the darkness The hobo, well, he spoke Boy, you are a new one You could have killed me where I lay But, boy, I trust your scared some So, I guess I'm safe today T'was a time a decade back Got knifed, real hard and deep Taken by another jumper While I tried to have a sleep Hadn't make that choice before Most times I'm here alone But, it was cold and wintry like And I threw this boy a bone See, it's dangerous riding rail cars We are all on here to hide And sometimes, well then, most times This is not a pleasant ride You know you asked my name back there I ain't heard it for so long They call me "The Conductor" I'd give my name but, I'd be wrong Life out here ain't easy Your head is on a swivel Listen boy, this is the truth Not just some hobo drivel Even though we're many You are still alone out here Some you think are friends one day Would **** you for a pint of beer So, keep your distance, bide your time The choice is up to you Stay out here and roll the dice And do what you must do I listened as he rambled Sorted words that I could keep Then as sudden as he started He stopped, and went to sleep Do I ride the rails a no one? Lose my name inside my mind? Or do I travel 'cross the country? To see just what it is I'd find I'm lost with no direction Staying stagnant, that I know But, the life of The Conductor Is that where I want to go I heard the old man snoring I huddled up and grabbed my stuff Between the lines from The Conductor I guess I wasn't all that tough Back home there is a fellow The blues man is his name He reminds me of this fellow They could be one and the same Next time I hear the blues man Or hear the whistle of a train I'll think of The Conductor The man who has no name
0
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:10 PM UTC
The Conductor (A Street Poem)
Nothing left in this old town I felt I didn't have much choice I jumped on board a west bound freight It was there I heard the voice..... "Boy, this here is my car" "You keep the rules, and you'll be fine" "I don't know you, you don't know me" "Boy, this car is mine" I squinted in the darkness I tried to focus on the sound That voice there in the boxcar As rough as any I had found I asked him where he came from He spoke but wasn't clear Everywhere and Nowhere And right now from right here Now boy, Keep your distance Keep quiet, leave me be I don't like conversation You keep to you, and I to me Just then, the train car shifted That there's the final shunt You're safe now boy inside this car The rail men stopped their hunt He said that there shunting noise Is the starting of a song The train soon will start moving Everyone is moving on While the cars are stagnant You know, not moving, sitting still The rail men all go hunting For us hobo's , if you will That shunting sound is heaven It means we are onto who knows where And frankly boy, you know deep down It really isn't fair I asked him what he meant by that He said, I've said enough As time goes by, you sound some smart You'll pick up on this stuff The silence then took over He was sleeping, so did I He was snoring quite contently I couldn't find sleep, I wonder why? About an hour later He sparked a match and smoke And again from in the darkness The hobo, well, he spoke Boy, you are a new one You could have killed me where I lay But, boy, I trust your scared some So, I guess I'm safe today T'was a time a decade back Got knifed, real hard and deep Taken by another jumper While I tried to have a sleep Hadn't make that choice before Most times I'm here alone But, it was cold and wintry like And I threw this boy a bone See, it's dangerous riding rail cars We are all on here to hide And sometimes, well then, most times This is not a pleasant ride You know you asked my name back there I ain't heard it for so long They call me "The Conductor" I'd give my name but, I'd be wrong Life out here ain't easy Your head is on a swivel Listen boy, this is the truth Not just some hobo drivel Even though we're many You are still alone out here Some you think are friends one day Would **** you for a pint of beer So, keep your distance, bide your time The choice is up to you Stay out here and roll the dice And do what you must do I listened as he rambled Sorted words that I could keep Then as sudden as he started He stopped, and went to sleep Do I ride the rails a no one? Lose my name inside my mind? Or do I travel 'cross the country? To see just what it is I'd find I'm lost with no direction Staying stagnant, that I know But, the life of The Conductor Is that where I want to go I heard the old man snoring I huddled up and grabbed my stuff Between the lines from The Conductor I guess I wasn't all that tough Back home there is a fellow The blues man is his name He reminds me of this fellow They could be one and the same Next time I hear the blues man Or hear the whistle of a train I'll think of The Conductor The man who has no name
roger-turner
Written by
Canadian
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:10 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem