On my journey to the center of the world
Of phantoms dreams, I find all my thoughts with
Mysteries. The moon is shining bright and there
Must be a werewolf out tonight. In the dark I see
Ten people in white-a group of preachers, cursing the
Zombies, and I can also tell the vampires around
Every corner must be down below. Every night it's the
Same, the sanity of reason never seems to be
In anyone's brain...the full moon comes I hear
The wolfman call, this seems like a normal night
In fall, but then I can tell you it's just filled
With witches calls. They cook their roasts and cast
Bolts and hail, and I can hear them chant while I'm
On the speeding city Light Rail.

Standing in the tunnel
at Eighth and Pine station,
I survey westbound commuters
waiting across the tracks  -
standing arms akimbo
or leaning on marble walls.
A well-suited young man paces the platform -
cell phone pressed to his cheek.

    [Passengers stand clear of the
    edge of the platform at all times]

Rushing in from the east,
a gleaming white chariot
arrives - pauses - resumes
leaving the far platform vacated
as if by alien abduction

From the left a blazing light
pierces the  tunnel
and the Shiloh – Scott eastbound
halts and snaps open its doors.
crossing the threshold.,
I claim a seat by the aisle.

    [Please stand clear! Doors are closing]

With eyes half shut I scan the crowd:
uniformed workers wearing ID's,  
a toddler’s arms and legs
dangling off his mother's lap,
An elderly couple talking softly.

The soft clatter of wheels
and the gentle side-to-side sway
rocks us like a cradle -
memories of the long day
melting into thoughts of home.

    [Fairview Heights Station.
    Doors open to my right]

The lady with the toddler steps off.
A trio of teenage girls
fresh from the mall
seek and find empty seats -
filling the rear of the car
with the music of their chatter.

Streetlamps scatter shadows
over parking lots.
The unseen country side
slips by under cover of darkness.
Headlights gleam like jewels
waiting for crossing gates to lift

    [Next stop Belleville Station
    Doors open to my left]

I clutch my lap top,
work my way to the door
and wait for the train’s full stop

Stepping out into the frost filled air
I pause to watch the sleak white chariot
vanish on the eastern horizon.

September,  2006

I reminisce by this railway siding pond,
Musing on rail relics rattling on,
Recalling lives and times bygone,
But memories of their shades linger on,
The lonesome call of distant steam trains,
Eras that may never come again,
I see they're gone nowhere in particular,
Replaced by planes and transport vehicular,
I imagine queues on foggy platforms,
Awaiting the misted trains' shadow forms,
Standing by, expecting the status quo,
I blink my eyes, where did they all go?
Looking backwards along yesterday's track,
I'm no kid any more, get off my back,
I reflect and reminisce,
Nostalgia is for the times we miss,
I'll reminisce by the railway siding pond,
I recall the times and lives bygone,
As ghosts of rail relics keep rattling on......

I’m
Paper-baggin’
It,
Paper,
Paper-baggin’
It,
“Oh lord!”
I’m paper-baggin’ it!

Alongside the rail come Neenah steel,
And foreboding, “Fox,” oh so tipsy,
Whispers, this meandering little missy.

I’m paper-baggin’ it!

And when Santa Fe’s now, near and
Her boyfriend’s whistle, prophecy’s clear,
So wills the way and away and away.

I’m
Paper-baggin’
It,
Paper,
Paper-baggin’
It,
“Oh lord!”
I’m paper-baggin’ it!

I love being free.
To be no longer bound
By the Rail is freedom.
To be slowed down no longer
By protection.

But to be free.
No longer bound by the rail.
Openly prone to harm and danger.
Is to be no longer bound
By the Rail.

When things get settled
I start moving
It's the time to hit the trail
I take the chance to move along
by truck or car or rail

No ties to where I'm leaving
Where I'm headed
I don't know
But, when things start feeling settled
I know it's time for me to go

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello

Images of long ago
A father was not there
He'd leave when we were not around
Off to who knows where

I've seen so many broken hearts
I stopped counting at fourteen
I don't even try to know
The broken hearts I've seen

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello

I'm lonely, but I'm not alone
I'm by myself inside my head
I've memories of loves I've lost
got too close, so then I fled

I don't want to be a number
Just added to the list
I don't care to even try to count
The lips I've never kissed

Friends, not many
Family...nope
Relationships...they don't exist
I only live on hope
I'm not around one place too long
i know the time to go
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello
I've said goodbye so many times
I forgot how to say hello

Something that you should know as you walk along that track.
Your destinations clear and you are not coming back.

Something to contemplate that might cause a dis-rail. Or perhaps just slow you down as you are destined to fail.

You never read the small print, you never studied well. That's why your on this journey to Hell!

You signed your name in blood to get the things you could.
You never once took thought of if you really should.

You had your fifteen famous, you thought you were on your way.
But you didn't really think how soon it was till you would pay.

And now your on the path to Hell and looking really pale. Because the Devil is 'as they say' in the detail.

What if the LIRR didn’t run?
For thousands of travellers, it wouldn’t be fun
It will be find another alternative
There will be no time to be selective
It will be your efforts in trying to get to work
Being on time won’t be an option
It will be more of an experience far from being an adventure
It will be overflowing crowds
Speed would be the essence in what time will allow
This will become a process for a while
Straphangers will not be travelling in style
In fact, the rails won’t be easy as a sail
There will be times when your efforts will seem like fail
Yet you will be moving in a commuting mode
This is how your day will be sold
It’s up to the unions to avoid a strike
Frustrations could end in a very strong fight
It’s a matter of coming to the negotiations table
Then coming with a plan that is sound with talks in able
We will have to wait and see
We don’t know what the results will be
It will be definitely the subway and the bus
But this will affect all of us.