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M C Oct 9
Rickity-tickity-clak. Onomatopoeia for a bygone age.
Soon the distinct, sometimes irritating/sometimes soothing signals
of a box sailing along a track will be stuck in the past.
A vintage sound.
Trains pass by
Hiding bombs
Waiting to kiss the sky
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.

Another pill passing lips
From broken fingertips.
I wonder why my hands died
Before the rest of me could.

Empty monsters
Fill up attics
With my dead friends.

They walk past

Poems

Laughter and

Love

Just as empty by the end
As they were at the start.

So far
Nobody good
Has mentioned
My dead hands.

The drunken ghosts
Whispering to walls
Still blame me
For your death.

And my beauty is blurred
By my dead hands.
And my chest is bruised
By your young death.

And my glass philosophy
Has begun to shatter
Under the light
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.
A more abstract poem inspired by my words page.
I've stopped chasing trains
Everywhere I go.

I've stopped downing darkness
to deal with my own.

I've started drowning death
In everything good.


My car has forgotten
what it's like going over 75.
It doesn't wonder what every drop from every bridge will feel like.

I don't wonder how far I can go
before money runs out and gas gets low.
How far I can run before anyone will know.


I've stopped chasing trains
Everywhere I go.

I've stopped downing darkness
to deal with my own.

I've started drowning death
In everything good.

I've started drowning death
In you.
Aneesh H Aug 19
Memories of a railroad era, bygone,
Nearly seven score years ago
Stories carried on the wheels,
With the coal and grain to go

A saga of the rail,
Now and again told
The charm of this tale,
Never growing old

Of modernity and mystery,
A kaleidoscopic visage:
An ensemble of hope and history,
A treasured, eclectic heritage

The railfan’s fervor: in full galore
In silent splendor, the glories of yore
In this humble house, come awake
A radiant reminiscence evokes!
Recently, a Railway Heritage Museum was opened at Hubballi, Karnataka: the HeadQuarters of South Western Railway. Hubballi or Hubli is a twincity of Dharwad, the erstwhile HeadQuarters Office of Southern Mahratta Railway, which was a private Railway Company founded in 1880s during British Colonial Rule.
I wrote a poem for the Museum, which is framed as a permanent exhibit on the Museum Wall!
Take me to the train station
To the moonlit tracks
With waves upon the rails
And spitfire cracks
Let me rest among the passengers
In their blue, tired seats
Spun by frayed end threads
Wilted in the streets
Take me past foreign, foggy neon signs
To the western, wild call
When the whistle bends into the wind
I’ll know I’ve seen it all
we take the same train everyday
I don’t know your name nor where you come from
what a joy is to see your face once more before we part ways again
but the moment the train moves
the rumble of my heart lead the way
stead fast, the scenery of steeping in Front of emotion
track after track
winding and twisting with nothing to block the way
the express route to desire
your astonishing beauty
Is my favorite stop
love at first sight
I wish I could've told you how I felt
I wish I could've held your hands
before alighting the train
Psychostasis Apr 29
Sometimes I listen to the trains go by
And I pretend I jump on one
Not really sure where im going
But that doesn't really matter
Sometimes in this fantasy I worry
Which is ridiculous because it's just a fantasy
You shouldnt have to worry about things you only think about
Right?
Can't keep my chin up if it's gonna keep getting hit
Mimi Hachiko Jan 28
Roll outta bed, calls to answer
Make a cup of motivation
This is the standard
Meds, Shoes, Music, Trains
While each Morning passes the same
Gotta hold back the symptoms of strain
You can feel that
You've got lava in your veins
that tends to go and drive you insane
but the day goes on, it gets a lil easier
Suppressants in the brain
crashing like a meteor
Gotta take more just to get through the day
Dont have another choice
God knows I've tried every other way
Background music plays, a variety
of pieces of your soul,
creates anxiety
You've heard it all before, but it brings you back
You get to live a little bit in those flashbacks
of the good and the bad, but the past all the same
back to a time where things felt more tame
Halt
The train comes to a stop.
Its your turn to get up and get off
But before you finish your walk
you've got time to cough
before you step back into the world
where you're livestock
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