"amtrak" poems
~~¤~~
I heard your cry Oh, Paris
From the hundred of bodies that fell on your ground
I heard the sobbing of your neighbors
I saw the tears of all the eyes watching you
You were trying to move on from the tragic Charlie Hebdo Attack
But here you are again-
Broken and bruised
And my heart is breaking
My tears are rolling down my face
As I utter a thousand why's
But...
I still hear the weeping from afar-
Palestine and Syria are still mourning for the death of their children,
India Heat Wave that killed more than two thousand,
The hundreds of migrants killed in sinking ship in the Mediterranean Sea,
The TransAsia Airways Flight 235 Crash in Taiwan,
The Germanwings Flight 9525 Crash into the French Alps,
The Earthquake in Nepal,
The Amtrak Train Derail in Philadelphia,
The Warehouse Explosion that killed a hundred in China,
The Reporter and Cameraman Killed live on TV,
The Refugee crisis,
The Hajj Pilgrimage Tragedy near Mecca
The series of calamities and tragedies in different parts of my dear Philippines-
The families of thousands of dead people are still in agony
These tragedies around the world
Gave those places the deepest cuts upon the bellies of the mothers
Wounds that connect to the hearts
And create scars that might be fresh until now
The world is in pain
And here are my tears again
I am praying for the world
Can we listen to those cries and open our hearts?
Let us pray for you, dear Paris
And for other places wich are still in misery
Let us pray for the world.
~~¤~~
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
Big Four Railroad
In the past a little one had an interest in this story and one of the racers and the longest freight train
The race team was in the living room and their story was being read from the paper mother clueless
We laughed and snickered about our secret that old engineer was proud of us we were not vain
Down the hill we sped past Bino’s station across Jackson the B&O; he was high balling we had to pour it
On between the two tracks he was closing the gap he had nothing to lose but his pride for us it was
Curtains the long black limo a one way ride we streaked the line fifteen feet to spare we just stopped
And turned what a salutation from the engineer half hanging out the widow of that great engine his
Balled fist a shaking you sons with the deafening roar of that train so close we didn’t get to hear the rest
And the train carried him on down the track so Jerry and Larry and the other guy continued on to the
Swimming pool pleased with our speed we forgot about it until on the front of the paper in the bottom
corner it read three Pana youths out run train I guess the old engineer cooled off as he sailed on down
The track we didn’t know he talked to the tower as he passed so we didn’t get first prize or a blue
Ribbon but in a small way we entered into the great and wonderful tales of train lore along with Jessie
and Frank I told you when in trouble I had three actions fight talk or run that day the running won the
Day for these three amigos this memory was triggered by that same old paper this time it was talking
About the Amtrak detour I remember those passengers all those years ago setting there in their seats
flying through our town and the hook and the mail sack from the tower where that old bakery could be
smelled all night all the way out at the park as we watched tables for old F.S. Refinery I’m glad we didn’t
race a passenger train or this would be a hamburger story enjoy G.H.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
my mom called, i cried by the dhall, on facetime
been thinking about how lucky we are to be alive
even if to deal with mornings and swollen eyes
even if dad's always on the night shift, even with
this big rift caused by the distance and the lack of time
just because we made out once doesn't mean you're mine
i got glimpses of a pink top, my blanket of a jacket
i bet it would look classier if you were wearing it
but you're distant and cold and partying is getting old
i'm forever out of polaroid film and cheap distractions
so i took an amtrak home, straight from south station
the flight back to boston was short but still exhausting
and when i walk home alone, the silence is unsettling
seems we're both better than i thought at method acting
Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 1:21 AM UTC
You are as tall and beautiful as the Singer Building in New York City,
But your father calls you mustard seed.
The slits on your wrist spell out save me.
She protested black is no longer a color, but her insides,
And if her mom''s job is saving lives, why isn't she saving her daughter's?
When her mom hugged her it stung-
The needle and ink stippled in her back the expectations placed on her.
Her kitchen is a court where her parents find her guilty of being a teenager.
Her parents don't introduce her by name,
But by her future vocation.
The pretentious white picket fence and a dog that barks when you call it Max are distilled with dreams of catching the next Amtrak to California.
She spends twenty minutes a day cutting the rope her mother has involuntarily wrapped around her neck-
Choking out the little identity left
She screams, "Stop tearing down my infrastructure!"
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
There are 140,490 miles of railroad in the United States,
21,000 miles of Amtrak rails,
Amtrak owns 2,142 railway cars
plus 425 locomotives,
only one station near Atlanta,
(the ones by Toccoa, Jesup, and Savannah don’t ******* count)
and just the two of us.
My point is:
There’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday
Maybe plans will never work out,
and I won’t have you in my life the way I’d like.
Maybe we’ll grow into two completely different lives,
but we promise to meet up every five years.
Maybe we both just disappear for a while,
and just happen upon the same town/train station one day.
Maybe we’ll never be close friends,
or lovers,
but maybe,
just maybe,
there’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday.
When I was young,
I used to follow the train tracks.
For miles and miles and miles,
just waiting for my train to take me away.
And when I got home I’d have so many stories to tell.
I saw two dogs *******
And a family of opossums,
And a dead deer,
And a really pretty bug,
(And I got you some flowers but I dropped them,
when I thought the dogs were chasing me)
But your parents would always get mad at me for disappearing
when they’re supposed to be watching me until
my mom gets home.
And they’d tell me,
“do you have any idea how upset she’d be if
she knew you ran off like that?”
And I’d apologize for going off by myself
And they’d say,
“We forgive you. We won’t tell her
Just this once.”
But they’d never
never hear me
when I tried to tell them:
I can’t help it. There’s a big, beautiful, country out there
…and I want to see it.
Then when I got older,
I kept following the train tracks.
For miles and miles and miles.
Except now, I was a little more grown up.
I didn’t just disappear anymore,
walking along the tracks.
No, I had responsibilities
and obligations
and most of all,
a little money.
So, this time, I actually got to ride the train.
So my trains took me away,
And when I got home I had so many stories to tell.
I saw two drunks *******
And a family of musicians,
And a ****** on the nod,
And a really pretty tree,
(And I got you some jewelry, but I dropped it,
When I thought the drunks were chasing me)
But more than all of that,
I saw a girl.
She was beautiful and funny and kind and smart.
But they didn’t have time to listen to my stories,
About the drunks and the tree and the girl,
Because we had responsibilities and obligations.
So I didn’t even bother
Trying to tell them,
I have to go back. There’s a big, beautiful, country out there
…and I have to see it.
So,
I don’t know if I’ll see you again, or
If I’ll get to follow all the train tracks I want,
But there are 140,490 miles of railroad in the United States,
And it’s a big, beautiful country out there,
So it might be planned,
Or by mistake,
Or luck,
Or divine providence,
But I think
I hope
I pray
There’s a good chance I’ll see you again someday.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
The journey through time
The railing that became mine
It was the Amtrak Broadway Limited experience
New York City to Chicago in endurance
Railing all the way
The Diesel engine and the passenger cars
A Diner aboard but had to go far
A journey into tomorrow
My story on morrow
Speeding through the Amish fields
One wave in the greetings deal
A nighttime approach
Sleeping good in my coach
Crossing flashing signal lights
The whole ride being a sight
In the distance Chicago stands tall
The Sears Tower being the observation for all
The train finally puts into Chicago Union Station
My 7 days vacation being the indication
I stepped off the train
Chicago is far from being plain
My return trip home to New York will be by train
My everlasting memories in what will remain.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
It was aboard the Amtrak Crescent train to Atlanta and New Orleans
Railing tracks being a vacation to not look back
There were stops the train made
But as night had fallen needing no shade
I was sitting in coach folks, suddenly the train made an immediate stop
A passenger on the train wanted this be a “Death Knot”
Immediately the conductor ran through the train
The train remained still for a while
There was no one walking idle
The passenger wanted to commit suicide and jump off
Another Conductor saw the passengers and avoided the attempt
The passenger wanted the situation to be “Passenger leaps to his Death”
But life was for him to live
Death wasn’t make a call
The passenger was subdued in stall
The train proceeded on
I don’t know how, but the train was on schedule and arrived where it belonged
Fate that could have come too late
It simply wasn’t the passenger’s time fitting the slate.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 9:38 AM UTC
Blank man......
Mind full of emptiness..
Aqua man..
Mind full of water...
Bat man...
Mind full of wealth...
Super man
Mind full of Lois Lane...
Speeding stoping amtrak trains...
And she still on his brain
Do you want that love
do you desire that love
Well my name is Clark Kent
And I can acquire that Love
Super human love
Kind that God sent
and save you from it all.
You just be yourself
Dont ever have to change
And I'll provide you wealth
For nothings out of range
All the creatures in the sea
Will envy you and me
Cuz they will never have
this love that makes us glad
This super human love
speeding train feeling
Polar bear hugs
No baby your not dreaming
As I stated once before
My name is Quentin Briscoe
And Im your superman
Your one and only hero....
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 9:07 AM UTC
The static havoc
In my attic
Is automatic
And so emphatic
Excruciating pain
Roosting in rain
Boosting the grain
But flooding my lane
While playing cosmic roulette
I'm charged a clockwise debt
Paid by traveling to my death
Like anthrax on Amtrak
The FBI can't track
So the decay stacks
Turning everything black
Something's amiss
In this blinding abyss
That grabs my wrist
And drains my bliss
So I seek shelter
But get peltered
Helter skelter
By the belters
Tired of lies
Afraid I'll die
I see your eyes
As a sweet surprise
Then watch paint dry
Unlike the tears I cry
From the fear inside
You'll hurt my pride
Honestly
You harvest me
Until you're part of me
Making it hard to see
Where I'll be
If you flee
From my plea
And just leave
So I continue wheeling
To my glass ceiling
In need of timely healing
I forget my frightened feeling
And turn to hope
Until you say nope
A slippery slope
With which I can't cope
I thought I was saved
Instead I feel shame
From this disgraceful game
Called you don't feel the same
Which has gotten me lost
Frozen in frost
The coldest cost
As garbage tossed
You kindly offer your friendship
Unable to kiss my friend's lips
Unable to grab my friend's hips
Unable to let myself slip
I find something profound
Traveling on ground
With you around
Safe and sound
You offer insight
Increasing my might
By seeing the light
When you are right
You help me fight
My perilous plight
By making pain slight
Removing my fright
My perception of you is traveling
On this road that is gravelly
I once desired you madly
Now others have had me
But that doesn't change when I'm lonely
I wish you would hold me
Unable to forsake the old me
I just continue traveling coldly
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
echoing in my head
i am compelled
my knee begins
to pulse up and down
my head
weaves back and forth
my shoulders
they slide
side to side
the synth is the hot sand
warming my feet
compelling me
to rest my face upon it
like warm paper
hot from the printer
i lay my whole body
in the sand
the bass
is an amtrak train
from washington
to new york
flashing the swampy green
and beautiful lakes
across your eyes
faster than a movie
it is real
the drums are a tiny room
and i am a small red ball
elated, uncontrollable
i ricochet off every wall
faster and faster
the walls appear hard
but are soft
to the touch
i close my eyes
my hands are stretched
out close to my sides,
i see the world in
four quadrants
one is the beach...
the sun now sets
and an orange glow
blinds me for a moment,
through squinting eyes
the majesty of the
waves, rolling in orange,
shocks me
in a single orange beam
straight through my heart
and out into the other quadrants
i turn my hips
to reveal the second quadrant
and i am suddenly on a train
shooting through the air in front
from metal tracks on the ground
around me are trees
climbing and sliding upwards
their trunks rotating in slow circles
the green grows
and grows
in moments it fills the world
consuming my sight
all is green for a moment
and then the green shrinks
forming corners as it disappears
becoming a cube
then the cube grows
and in front of me
grows a red door
and it opens
and again
i am a bouncing
red ball
and for a moment
i am fully present
in bouncing
then i fall, gravity ceasing
and i am back standing
with my hands to my sides
and i see the fourth quadrant
i see myself
grinning and shaking
swinging my whole body
in random patterns
in my chair, at my desk
typing a poem on my computer
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
A group of girls pass me by
Dressed in their fancy dresses
Talking about some guy
Long island girls I think
Do they know a different world exists
I'd rather listen to the hobo
Strumming his guitar
Singing about his sorrows
I give him a beer to forget life
As I try to forget mine
Amtrak to philadelphia departs at 730
Platform 4 says the screen
Where are all these people traveling to?
Am I drunk?
I've only had few
What happened to the days I could drink
Am I old?
Now I'm just thinking too much
Time for another beer
"That'll be 5 bucks!"
(New York City, 6/30/2012)
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
If you are standing you need to sit
But if you are sitting, you are at where you need to be
To start off, I am the adventurous type, but economical
I was planning a vacation to Los Angeles by rail
But continue to follow me throughout the trail
I called Amtrak to see how much a compartment would cost, but remember this was in 1983
Boy did I get a price surprise!
The Amtrak Travel Agent asked me if I was standing
I told the Travel Agent I am standing across going across country
The Travel Agent later stated, it’s not for your trip, but at the present state
Now that I can relate
I told the lady I was standing, but was informed, I need to sit for this
The round trip compartment fare in 1983 was $1,100
I responded, that can’t be the price as I am getting the entire car
But that wasn’t the case as it was the distance
One Room with a private toilet
Later I responded, the only thing cheaper was coach
I guess I would have to hop aboard a Freight train and travel low class in a caboose
Perhaps jump on a back of a moose
At that time, at least I was still in my youth
The train sounded too much
I figured, I may have to gallop on a horse
Of course Of course
I do know how to ride a horse
But that would take even longer
Well the Hound bus won out
The round trip fare was $99.00 in 1983
I did travel to Los Angeles being my route
There you have it, a railing thought being the highway end
However I was asked why didn’t I fly?
My question was simply why?
It was Cross Country with scenery to see
It was captivation scenery that had me
There you have my past vacation flow
I put you in the know
But for now, it’s time for me too go.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
Train 85 leaves the station and bursts into the blinding sunlight with a surreal suddenness. Below, to the left of the tracks, a field of wheat sways as though still under a summer sun. Golden-brown and lively in spite of the snow resting at its roots. The blinding sun hangs high, glimmering on the water. It gives me a headache. I try to ignore it.
Ahead of me, the laughter of two young people fills the car. I wonder if they are strangers, engaged in conversation just minutes after meeting. I wonder if they have the same destination, if they are each equally happy to be heading towards it.
To my right, across the aisle, a woman no older than fifty talks loudly on the phone about her father’s tumor and the biopsy that will soon determine if it is cancer. She sounds optimistic, and I am happy for her. I tread lightly on the thought that maybe her loud optimism is a front. I want to be happy for her. But in an hour I will get off this train, and if her father dies, I will never know.
The woman sitting next to me returns from the café car with a Dunkin' Donuts coffee and takes out her laptop. I turn down my brightness so that she can’t see that I am writing about her. Even though I write nothing bad, it feels like some sick invasion of privacy.
My fingers feel heavy. This train feels heavy.
I want to be outside, before the sun sets, while the golden-brown wheat is still bathed in light. The sun is going to set without me. I try to be okay with that.
The last time I ever wrote on an Amtrak — the last time I can remember —, it was a song about loneliness and self-destruction. It was more than two years ago. I want to be able to say that I have changed more than I actually have. But even as the world rushes past me, snow and wheat and house and sun, I still feel impossibly lonely. The heaviness from my fingers is in all of me now. I can’t shake it.
The young people ahead of me, the woman across the aisle, and the woman next to me all begin talking at once now, and I feel hot. Their words bounce back and forth off the walls, and I need to get off of this train. Receiving these airborne snippets of other lives feels wrong, feels overwhelming.
Anyone who reads this piece will think I’m insane.
The woman next to me stops speaking. The young people ahead of me quiet down. The woman across the aisle is engaged in some other conversation that I can’t exactly make out. It’s quieter. I might still break the windows of this train if I could, but it is quieter. My fingers feel a little less heavy. It is quieter. At least the insanity is in words now.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Yesterday
Last night
And today
I recognized your face
fully for the first time.
I saw who you were
and you are beautiful.
You are a true soul
gravitating to all that is Good
all that is Pure.
Pulling me towards you
I become Good
I become Pure.
I am where I should be.
Happiness enters
me as I gravitate up to
You.
I am in awe of your face
I am falling for your hands
I am breathing you in forever.
and although this train selfishly slices through this humid July night and the long, tired miles that now separate us,
I smile--for I know the rocking of this train is nothing but you with your arms around me.
You will always be around me.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
I slid down a hill
on nothing but a tarp and hose water
in the middle hick town new york
with a family i didn’t even know
because my best friend thought we would have fun.
We did.
But the next day we got so high
we thought we could make dub step from our mouths.
When we tried it sober
it sounded nothing like dub step.
Just kind of like a beat up basement home
and not enough people for a party.
Kind of like the soft music you play after a panic attack,
everything sounds so
forced.
This one time,
I kissed a girl so hard on the mouth
that she took a step back and just said
”…thank you.”
I have no idea what she was thanking me for,
but i learned to thank her body
in more ways than just prayer.
She sounded like an orchestra,
Bach or back but god ******
if she didn’t leave scratches on everything instrument.
One time,
I got thrown into a mosh pit
and some big dude carried me out
and punched the person who pushed me in
so hard in the face that i swear
i saw his mothers veins give out.
It was like an amtrak railway collision,
fist and apology, metal and music,
the kind of rock you get stuck in-between
next to that hard place.
One time,
I slid into my best friend
because we thought we would have fun.
We did.
She had to take a step back
and said nothing but Thank You.
A broken body prayer healed
with blankets like tarp, claiming her my new york.
It was like being thrown into a mosh pit
but there wasn’t anyone there to carry me out
because it wasn’t an accident.
Just a mistake.
Now we don’t talk and last night
I got so high that I tried to make music from my mouth,
replay her symphony, echo it
in my beat up basement of a chest.
The hollow wind chime of organs or intestines,
ragged breathing from the smoke
she snake charmed down my throat.
She was so smooth. Soft.
Kind of like the music you play
after a panic attack,
everything feels so
forced.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Time spent traveling is time wisely spent,
hours are filled with enriching experiences
and soul-searching moments
my morning trip to San Diego was such...
my eyes feasted on a blue-green ocean,
with daring surfers atop cresting waves;
and then there were my fellow farers...
the atmosphere inside the Amtrak
was a mix of moods...of voices of folks...
silent ones slept the whole trip...several,
had coffee and bread, while reflecting...
some were already working ahead of time,
giving instructions via their mobile phones...
a few were smiling, taking life positively,
maybe, dwelling on pleasant memories;
others wore serious faces...in deep thought,
maybe thinking of love's and life's unfairness,
sad realities they leave behind each morning,
the same ones they go home to each night.
boarding a train is one chapter,
getting off is another.....the platform is
where situations end, or, a fresh start awaits:
new job, a family...finding one's self somewhere,
ending a relationship...moving on when a loved
one dies...drifters are ever, "just passing through,"
they go....wherever the train takes them...
trips are inward journeys...the hours open
and clear our minds, leaving realizations
and wiser perspectives over nagging issues
we shun...or, defy; we try to change what
can be changed in our lives...and accept
with peace...what...cannot be changed...
we are on a journey...we are farers all,
...........in this train...called life...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 5, 2019
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
Sitting in the dining car of a 1996 Amtrak rail car clamoring for the next available outlet.
Across from me is a bohemian mistress who looks like she just wandered into the car from the 70's.
Out of place in this time and type of train. She sits silently reading a a favorite work from one the the greater unknown Inspirational-ist's.
An occasional giggle fills the air from a joke only she knows and understands. Disregard for the rules and regulations around her. Oblivious to the others in the car snacking on sandwiches and slurping up their pops.
I notice though. I sit and can't help but look at her. There's a wonder and awe about her persona. A pull towards her careless aura. It's intoxicating.
We hit Kalamazoo and like a hiccup she's gone.
Out to dance towards her next spot. Wherever that may be.
Still I sit. Waiting for my charging to be done
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
I was travelling aboard the Amtrak Crescent
It had a 2:00 pm Departure from New York City Penn Station to New Orleans, La, but my destination was Atlanta, Ga.
We pulled from Penn On-time
My vacation had finally begun
I was going on an adventure that was sure to be fun
I am moving forward here
It was 1:30 am and suddenly the train made an immediate stop on the dime with precision
I almost felt out of my reclining seat, as I was fast asleep
In my passenger train car, we noticed the Conductor was pacing back and forth and moving swiftly through the car
That memory I will never erase
We asked the conductor what was wrong, and he stated, another passenger was trying to jump off the train
It all happened when another conductor was passing through one of the passenger cars, and she noticed the passenger had pulled down one of the top window doors within that specific car, but later noticed the passenger was getting ready to do a running start while the train was moving at 120 wpm.
That was when the Engineer was alerted to stop immediately
But the courageous female conductor succeeded in stopping him, but she almost when out with him in the situation
That wasn’t part of my vacation, but an accord of what actually happened aboard
However, no life loss and thank the Good Lord.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Do you remember,
two years ago
I wrote you a story,
bound with the string I could find
beneath the burned acre carpet
of my first apartment.
I gave it to you
two weeks late, on
printed cheap paper.
Chemically melted with the telling
of what I saw,
two hundred miles away
on January fifth.
I wrote about the cargo train
that passes across the street
of my university every day
at nine pm.
I told you that it drove at least two times faster
than the Amtrak, because people are more precious than cargo.
I told you about how when I was stuck
at the street crossing,
from nine to nine fifteen.
How I saw salvation
in the screaming, shaking tracks.
Tonight I heard the same train,
from outside my third apartment,
set on the opposite side of the train tracks,
a couple meters across
from where I stood two years ago,
when the smell of acid pavement
inked my memories of you,
and your eighteenth birthday.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
To the unlikely Amtrak ride
the one with people
acting like cartoons.
With an announcer
over the intercom
smushing words together--
saying we'll arrive in Lodi
and then in blah blah location.
To the conductor
whom
speaks to us as children,
because to him
we look like long time
traveling companions.
He plays with our
destinations
and notices that we're going
to two different locations.
We've only known
each other existed from
the 30 minutes we rode
side by side on the bus before the train.
No matter the time.
We've become limited-less
as it was too easy to speak
and impossible to stop.
All the truths
we've shared will never be gone
the moment just as we felt in it
can never truly come to an end.
As long as the train keeps moving
our moment will forever trek on.
Even after I have left the ride
and you've finally fallen aleep
without my company to stir you awake.
It may never happen again
just like the dreams you're having
right this moment.
But least we came to speak
for the shortest
of train rides.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
Love like an Amtrak train –
The heat made me queasy.
It clung to me and hung on to me
When I stepped off,
A vague blurry feeling
Tethered to me, or I to it.
No refuge in the streets of this new city
Or even in the comfort of my own home.
No escape from this magnet that lives in me,
On-again, off-again, but I carry it with me, tucked inside.
Eventually the dull fire was too much to imagine,
And I wondered what was next,
Frightened and longing for an impulsive new love.
-bes-
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
The train roars from the station
I don't have a clue where I'm going
The Amtrak whistle is blazing
The hardest part is not knowing
The cars sway back and forth
As the blooming trees blur by
I know she was always worth
Every moment I was by her side
I am just a Passenger
On the train called life
I am just a lonely rider
Leaving the dark behind
For each long mile I travel ahead
Just a frontiersman of the modern day
For every ounce of tears I shed
I seemed to get lost on the way
I can tolerate the engine smoke
But I can't erase the smell her perfume
The train has no feelings to evoke
It just snakes its way from gloom
I am just a Passenger
On the train called life
I am just a lonely rider
Heading toward the light
© 2019 Michael Messinger(All rights reserved)
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
An Amtrak train traveling south
The train departed from New York Penn Station
Well I was on my way on vacation
We departed from New York at One PM
Through the tunnel and rails we went
I am definitely on my journey being heaven sent
It will be an overnight ride
Arriving in my destination of Atlanta being my stride
Before we get there
There is some time to spare
As the night lights were out on the train
Something happened and let me explain
The Amtrak Conductor rushed through the train
Suddenly the Engineer applied the brakes
My response was “Oh for goodness sakes”
Apparently someone was trying to jump off the moving train in suicide
This was hard to put aside
The passenger was taken off because he didn’t abide
Death that could have been in a passenger’s try
Well the train proceeded on and the night seemed very long
We arrived in Atlanta On Time, and the exploration was mine.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC