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ATL Sep 7
I am offset;

an old railcar piled with pages,
shunted forward a few
inches every Saturday or so.

my mouth fell off on crooked tracks,
now I speak through rust-

corrosion carries all the stories never told,

a burnt patina
imploring passengers to pore through
its contents
till their hands are herringboned with paper-cuts.

it always ends in locked jaws-
with tetanus in their blood.
The Second Daniel, thought to overcome
Four more Visions conjured out of his Wand
Without reply does he renounce his Sum,
Later added Better Digits on hand
Mindly notice how this Social Train plays
Slowly taking Commuters off the Tracks
Which this Conductor sadly he displays
And the Tickets he hoped he would get back
You were not the First. This I can assure
But Sincerity a Note only you choose
This Soul, called Will, independent from cure
Balanced on Scales gives your Career a Boost.
If Reason be Creed, then Failure is Heart
Sir, not all Jewels you can just Compart.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
I'm on a train.

One of those red ones with black trimmed windows you can imagine rolling through the suburbs on the way to NYC. Not a subway car but a classier vintage with proper rows of cushioned seats and a lever to pull if there is an emergency. There are sparse shrubberies on one side of the tracks and the ocean on the other. Young trees and bushes stroll by.  A little wind is pushing off the ocean, massaging the car ever so gently back and forth as we move along. A gentle click-clack is on the tips of our ears.

We got on together. I hadn't known you for very long but the connection was stronger than anything I had ever felt or have since. You practically sat on top of me for the first few miles. Couldn't keep your hands off me,  staring in my eyes like you were searching for something lost but you couldn't remember what. The edges of your lips turned upwards permanently as if you were always at the verge of a laugh. You interlaced my fingers with yours and held on like you would be ripped away if your grip loosened for even a second. Slender fingers holding so tightly that they were becoming red.

You were excited to to be riding with me, about where we were going and all the things we would do when we got there. I would see you peer out of the corner of your eye, then lean over to brush your soft cheek against my budding stubble. Kissing and gently biting my lips insatiably. The suns rays coming in at an angle and lighting up your perfect smile and dimple.

I had to remind you we were in public.

I was lost in your blonde curls and the incense of your neck. I had fallen incredibly hard and so fast that my face hurt from smiling and my heart beat with vibrations I had never known. Not even a whiff of anxiety or neurosis. Some of the best memories of my life, as fleeting as they turned out to be.

I yawned and you put your finger in my mouth. I bent over to tie my shoe and you would poke my **** and laugh with your own reflection in the window, like this was the first and best joke of all time. Maybe it was and maybe it is.

The waiter came and informed us that a thing called "the bar car" existed. We both jumped at the idea. I didn't exactly notice at the time, during our excitement, but that's when the train started going faster and everything out the windows began to blur.

The bar car was a wild ride and we took advantage of our lo'cal. All kinds of fine wine, liquors and illicit substances were available. We tried them all. You were beautiful, your laugh infecting everyone around you, I was charming and held a captive audience.   It was a dark, loud and glorious blur. We were the life of the party and it chugged on till dawn.

We woke up in our seats, disheveled and discombobulated. It was dark out already. Did we sleep through the entire day? The train was slowing down, maybe approaching a station. The party was amazing but we were certainly paying the price for the black out. You moved over to the seat across from me to have some more space and lay down. I saw myself in the reflection. My hat, charm and smile from the night before had vanished. I must have left them in the bar car the night before.
      You had changed, beauty uninterrupted but different somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it. Irritated maybe? I invited you to cuddle and battle the hangover together but you ignored me. Like you couldn't hear me or didn't want to. I decided to let you be.

I got up to use the bathroom and thought I would go look for my scattered belongings. Maybe I could find a scrap of leftover dignity while you rested. I inquired to the conductor who directed me to the bartender in the bar car. He hadn't changed a bit, somehow untouched and unaffected by last nights antics that had effected me so dramatically.  Same black suspenders and white pressed shirt with impeccably slicked hair. I asked him what happened and if I had an open tab. While slowly polishing a rocks glass he looked up and made eye contact for a split second before looking away.
He said:  "Oh the bar car takes its toll. In the end we all end up paying one way or another". I still don't know what he meant by that or if he knew.
      I asked him if he found my hat and he said he would check the camera. We walked in to a small back room, while he was reviewing the tape, over his shoulder I noticed a tragedy.

We were drunk. I was going on to a group of new friends on one side of the bar, they were hanging on my words and I was eagerly explaining whatever nonsense they were drooling over. You were in the corner wearing that red dress I love, with your hair up in a tight bun. A few curls had escaped and brushed your high cheekbones, a thin line of pearls dancing delicately across your perfectly symmetrical collar. You were stunning and inebriated, swaying with each bump and motion of the train. A man wearing my hat put his hand on your side to keep you from swaying over and then he left it there.
I took a sharp breath.

It looked like you put your hand on his hand to move it but then it stayed and you both swayed together. As the air left my lungs and the blood drained out of my face I watched your lips touch the strangers. A small piece of my soul slipped away forever. I couldn't watch any further. When I asked the bartender how long it went on he fidgeted for a moment and uncomfortably muttered "quite some time". I never found my hat or the other part of me that left that day.  

The train slowed. I walked to the back, as far away from you as I could get, in utter disbelief. How could you? I thought to myself.
I mourned the loss of the you as I knew you yesterday, quietly and to myself. A tear  escaped my eye and rolled down my now fully formed stubble as I fell in to a random seat in mild shock. There were a few passengers back there so I had to pull together relatively quickly. After gaining some composure I knew it was time to get off. I knew we could never get back to yesterday morning though I would have said or done anything to do so.

The train had stopped. I went back to my seat and you were sleeping. I took my coat and gathered my things. The conductor looked at me confused as to why I would leave something so magnificent, I assume he had no idea what had transpired.   

I walked to the rear of the car and slid the door open slower than required. I stepped to the stairs and put one foot down on the step and the other on the ground. I stopped, rooted with my hand on the railing, lingering between two very different paths.
     I knew that it was time to get off, I knew this was the sensible thing to do, that I couldn't get past this offense regardless of how I had felt earlier the day before. The whistle screamed from the locomotive. The conductor looked at me and shook his head, I'm not sure if he was trying to tell me to stay or go but a decision had to be made.

The train lurched forward and I watched as the station slip away slowly. I sat in between the cars for a while and watched the ocean and birds. With a heavy heart and shoes I walked back to my seat. You were waiting. Crying. You knew. The bartender had told you. You didn't mean do do it, didn't realize what you were doing and thought it was me. He was wearing my hat and the whole world was blurry and dark.

I believed you. Self anguish mixed with alcohol was dripping from your pores. I knew you didn't mean it and were drunk, but could I ever forgive you or trust you again?

I loved you still.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection, a weaker version of myself looked back. As if an invisible chip in my teeth had developed and my shoulders lowered. The charming, confident man from the bar car the day before had been replaced. Something was off but not enough for anyone else to notice, just enough to know a change has happened.
       The train started to pick up speed again as we distanced ourselves from the station.  I second guessed my decision to stay but I didn't look back.

I found the man with my hat and punished him with a few blows in the dark. He knew he ****** up, apologized and took the beating like a man. I never got the hat back.

The engineer announced that we would be going through a tunnel soon and to turn on our lights and keep our hands in the windows.

It would be dark.  

We stayed away from the bar car for a while but the draw was irresistible. After a few hours we were there again but you never left my side.  Then you did. I was looking for you but you would disappear and not answer me when I called you name. The tunnel went deeper and darker and I didn't know where you were and I suspected you liked it that way. The train began to slow down again as we exited the tunnel.

I finally found you back at our seat, you had moved one row away from me. I asked you to come back, tried to hold your hands but you pulled away with vehemence. When I came back from the bathroom you had moved another row farther.
I knew I was losing you.
I begged you to return but you told me calmly that it was time for you to get off. At some point in the tunnel you had decided that you didn't want to go anymore . Your mind was made. You were going to catch another train at the next station.

When the train stopped I thought for sure you would reconsider but you didn't. Didn't even give it a thought. You just grabbed your coat and hat with one big bag under your arm. You kissed me on the cheek like a french stranger and were off. Going somewhere else on a different train. Just like that.

I rode the rails for quite some time by myself , many people getting on and getting off, passing me by. Every once in a while I would think I saw you at a station or in a **** though the window of another train. I often thought I could smell you but when I breathed deeper it was always gone. A ghost dancing on the edge of my senses.

A young girl in a headband got on the train. She was listening to headphones and dancing to herself as she bobbed along. She sat down in the seat next to me flashing a smile. She had a wedding ring on and I dismissed her immediately.  She didn't move from the seat or stop glancing my way. Eventually she confessed that she wanted to talk. I told her I wasn't interested but she persisted.  I hadn't talked to anyone on the train for quite some time and after some more mild persistence, I gave in.

We had a lot in common. We were both riding alone, desperately wanted attention and were thrilled to receive some.  After a few laughs she slid her hand in to mine and interlaced her fingers. I left it there. It was warm, comforting and wrong. She was married but I had been riding alone so long it felt good to have some company. She stayed and we talked. She was broken and I had a knack for fixing things. After a few hours of dramatic conversation I fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.

When I woke up  the train was flying up the track on the side of a mountain. Trees and rocks were a blur of green and grey. The engineer must be trying to make up for lost time I thought to myself.

The girl was asleep with her head on my lap. I looked down at her hand and the rings were gone. I woke her briefly to ask where they went. She said she didn't need them anymore and had thrown  them out the window.  She could of sold them, I said, but she said she just wanted them gone so she could be mine and fell back to sleep.  All of a sudden I couldn't breath. This train was roaring down the tracks, the once gentle click clack had become a loud hum. Suddenly too loud. This girl in my lap who had just gotten on the train wanted to stay. I considered her for a while as she looked up at me with big blue eyes, shining and wet, like a puppy in the shelter, terrified of rejection and desperate to be adopted.

At the peak of the mountain, just when the train began to even out, you waltzed back in to the car with a champagne flute in one hand and your bag in the other.

I don't know when or where you got back on, must have been a few stations ago when I stopped looking for you. Maybe you were wearing a disguise, who knows what you had been up to while you were gone. I'm not sure how long you were away but it was quite some time. That you had been through something was obvious, a new wrinkle had formed on your brow and you're once confident stride had changed to a cautious stroll. What actually happened out there I don't know.  I never asked and I don't want answers.

You looked at me and smiled. It was good to see that smile, like sun on my face on a brisk day.  You took a step toward me and then I looked down in my lap at the girl at the same time you did. I looked up. You and your smile were gone.

Everything I had begun to feel for this broken, head banded girl in my lap dried up like a puddle in  the dessert.  I quietly and gently nudged her awake and told her I had to use the bathroom. She put her head down on my coat and fell back into what ever trance she had been in, eyelids gently fluttering, eyes searching beneath them for what I would never give her.

I dashed up the isle and threw open the door, almost shattering the glass. The conductor glared at me and rolled his eyes as I barged past to the space between the cars.

There you were. Standing on the stairs with your head out the opening. The wind was blowing your perfectly formed curls around your head like a blonde explosion of familiarity. I yelled your name and you dove in to me. My senses erupted, my mind went numb as the train was nearing another station and I inhaled your essence greedily.

We moved to another car. I abandoned my coat with the married girl and never looked back. I hope she found what she was looking for. I  never could have been the answer she was so desperately seeking but I know I  helped steer her towards it.

You told me you had encountered some other people out there on the rails and they had reminded you of what we had when we first left the station. I never forgot.  

The train started to rock and get going again. We were back in the bar car and starting to brown out. We had to get off of this train right ******* now. In a desperate moment we looked at each other and put our hands, together, on the emergency brake cord. I looked in your eyes with your hand on top of mine. You kissed me while yanking down on the cord. Time slowed, the breaks squealed and everything exploded throwing luggage, people and the entire contents of the bar car in to a nondiscriminatory chaos . We got up off the ground, ran to the end of the car, dove off the side in to a soft patch of grass and rolled down a small incline. We watched as the conductor sifted through  the mess and interrogated the passengers, trying to ferret out the party responsible for pulling the brake. He spotted us off the side of the tracks and shook his fist while shouting every conceivable obscenity combination.

We laughed, held each other in the grass and kissed deeply.

We watched the train pick up speed and disappear in to the hills as relief spread over me.

You interlaced your fingers in to mine and we both looked out to where the tracks disappeared into the horizon, wondering how far of a walk it was to the next station.
Andrew Jun 2017
I'm so grateful I could die
And then I'd be the Grateful Dead
For every Touch of Grey
You erase
And paint intricate beauty I cannot equivocate
The enigma of your mind
Matches the confusion in my heart
What's the point of talking to someone
if you know what they're thinking?
I enjoy the intense haze
Of your rearranging maze
It's complexity fascinates me

Some of my favorite moments are when
I laugh hysterically as the tears fall down
And you're there
To hit my waterfall with your lightning
My emotions get so charged
As you pump electricity into my current
Making you the conductor
On this lifelong train ride
That's definitely been through some valleys and tunnels
But as we continue to scale this mountain
Negative thoughts can creep in
I wonder if you're disgusted by me
Or what you'd call me if you hated me
And as the tears fall down
I look to the heavens
And laugh hysterically
Thanking God I don't have to live in a world like that
I'm so ******* grateful
Life is a sad mellow guitar beat
Tune in your emotions
Or you’ll lose yourself in the song
I am the conductor
Who is trying
To live and not suffer
Show love <3
Umi Apr 2018
The gentle tone of her teaching,
In wonderous melodies, orchestral knowledge from a sweet teacher,
Education set by the awareness of harmonizing, delicate instruments,
Wisdom and foresight, cast by no other judgement but of a conductor,
Whomst hand leads to the ups and downs of the intensity, recognised
Ensembling in the beauty of a sinfonietta, sounds flows uninterrupted
Let the singing pendulum to your mistress's pleasure fall to the bottom, attached to the chipped illusionists mask of anticipation!
To this dance the mascarade does not crack in the shadow of sound,
A wise scholar would not sacrifice one topic relevant to learn to the passing time, to her students unfortune that is, cast in pure grief,
A wise conductor does the same with musical notes, the story flows,
With the moon high in the sky, time stands in her way, questioning her to dance with the devil amongst a distorted, whicked dark,
But resillient to the end, tough and with no distraction taking her focus the director of this event finishes the creation of art, an orchestra
A craftwoman of tempo and elegance always stands out after all, bringing the musical score to life.

~ Umi
Smoke Scribe Mar 2018
all poems write themselves, following plans that are drawn only
as the poem goes along, neither leading or following, but
carrying the writer along as first violin, a VIP passenger,
the first viewer, a consultant but not a conductor

a poem is written based on what has happened
a poem is written based on what was hoped to happen
a poem was written based on what could never happen
but is so well imagined that it is more real than if it happened


I willingly tell you I will not tell you which is what, for there is no difference between them for the writer, the first passenger,
though undeniably fully aware of the quality of the ware
that is proffered, plottered or just perchanced

perhaps you are thinking, but of course,
this is the way,
the way of all of us,
the way it has and will be and no
disclaimer needed for no believable claims are made

perhaps
for the weave is oft tight, tight as near-truth, and so well imagined, it wraps the first passenger in a cloak of skin
that actually feels, though cloaks cannot feel,
but belief is easily eased

there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and
perception is only your truth


Therefore,
my poems are splats and drips.
you make them into paintings that hang
in your own private museum
but authenticated by me as
first viewer,

3/13/18
1:09am
jane taylor May 2016
i fight to peel each moment
of pure stagnation
off of me

a tinnitus cacophony whines in my ears
as my dilapidated fan
keeps slow rhythm to the faucet drip

minutes drag like molasses
handcuffed to the daily lag
groundhog day

i escape into the forest
running, the breeze caresses my face
wildlife pries open my desperate eyes

a spider’s web bends and sways in the wind
fine strands of silver silk flow
soaring they meld in crescent waves

a butterfly glides gently by
befriending gusts of air
softly breathing in another tomorrow

the conductor of the symphony
with sculptor’s hands i cannot see
whispers ever graciously

life is not your enemy
drink it in and let it seep
drop your sword i’m molding thee

©2016janetaylor
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
Sebastian Macias May 2017
You wake up and it's different
You've felt like this before
But something is different
You have the best feeling
In the world, you smile even
There's something different
Now, the feeling you had,
As the water hits your back,
So warm, so welcoming,
Is followed by the worst feeling
It's time to get off the Ferris Wheel
It's coming back around
You're a few seats back
The conductor eyes you
It got cold quickly
Time to go play
In a themed park
Jun 2014
Title

Mr. Ketchup was ready and waiting for the first tram to run to the Burgh Street airport. It had been years of utter chaos with all the road works and the endless track being laid on every road in Butterworth town.
  ‘About time too - my feet are killing me’ said Ketchup.
  ‘Yes,' answered a bleary eyed Haggis.
  ‘Oh I do wish that these people would stop shoveling’ snapped Ketchup.
  ‘Be patient otherwise we’ll all land up on the floor’ said Haggis.
  ‘It’s hardly surprising, look at everyone all packed in like sardines.’ groaned Ketchup.
  ‘Oh Mr Ketchup why do you have to complain about the least wee thing? Torn-face Tomato frowned.

The tram took ages before reaching the first station, and poor old Ketchup was desperate for a cold drink. He certainly looked annoyed in fact he seemed like he'd pass out at any second. No one could get moving and soon it would be time for the journey to end. But oh dear Mr. Ketchup felt dizzy and stars were floating in front of his eyes. Slowly he lost his balance and landed on the next lot of passengers, knocking them to the floor. Haggis looked like he’d seen a ghost. Well as you can imagine it wasn't a good experience for Mr Ketchup and his friends. The conductor stopped the tram while the other passengers got off in disgust making complaints to the conductor.
Mr Ketchup slowly came around while Haggis returned with a glass of cold water.
   ‘Eek ...what happened, my head feels a bit funny moaned Ketchup.
Neaps and Haggis hardly had time to explain when the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. Mr. Ketchup made a big fuss about lying on the stretcher but Haggis insisted on it. He lay wincing all the way to the hospital because of all the bumpy roads. They shouldn't have spent all of that money on the trams - it was shocking. It would have been far better to fix all these holes in the road he thought to himself.

After a long day Mr Ketchup climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. The very next morning the incident appeared in the local newspaper. The transport department were blamed for overcrowding the tram. The council were looking into the health and safety rules. Due to the very serious injuries that poor old Ketchup had suffered, he would be in line for a huge pay out or so he thought.
It wasn't until the first hearing in the court that he realised it would only be a pittance.
   Well I might have known it was too good to be true. He thought If they think that they can fob me off with sweets then they have got another coming. He smirked.      
  ‘What do you have in mind Haggis?’ he said looking worried."
  ‘Just you wait and see’ said Ketchup grinning.

The very next day Ketchup got up early and he had written half a dozen letters to very important people. One too the prime-minster to start with.
Within a matter of a week he received the letter that he longed for, inviting Ketchup to the prime-minister’s office. Mr Ketchup couldn't find his best suit, ‘Oh bother he thought the only one I do have has shrunk at the legs. It looks like my cat has died in them.’ he wailed.
  ‘Oh just look at you’ laughed Neaps and Haggis.
  ‘Why are you laughing at me?’ frowned Ketchup."
  ‘You're going dressed like a *****’ he roared with laughter.
  ‘You do look rather strange Neaps’ he said and looking away trying not to laugh again.
  ‘Well I suppose so if you say so’ he nodded.
  ‘Look why don't you all come down to mine, and I’ll sort you out smiled Torn-Faced Tomato.

Mr Ketchup couldn't believe what he was hearing, had Torn-face turned over a new leaf or maybe she had a soft spot after all. Half an hour later Ketchup looked fit to see the queen, neatly dressed in a tweed jacket with matching trousers and a white shirt with a green tie. He looked ever so smart. Ketchup whistled but oh dear he never noticed the cat tail and went flying, landing right in the cats dinner.  
Oh dear it looks like Mr Ketchup won't be going anywhere for the time being.....
What do you think?
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."

"Time heals, steals and reveals."

"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."

"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."

"Help when you can, pray when you can't."

"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."

"Honesty is in the alcohol."

"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."

"Sometimes the most valuable company is yourself."

"Instincts over impulse, always."

"The greatest comeback is the one least expected."

"Fear is a light sleeper."

"You can't change the past, but it can change you."

"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."

"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."

"The humble voice resonates the loudest."

"Write your failures in pencil, your triumphs in ink."

"Scars speak every language."

"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."

"Every tear leaves something behind."

"Courage brings you to the fight, wisdom wins it."

"Relationships start and end, but the lucky ones get to begin again."

"The devil doubts. The angel accepts."

"Biggie makes you dance. Tupac makes you think."

"Justice is money green."

"The only thing better than good friends are lifelong ones."

"I'm in a fight with life and I'm losing on points."

"We are remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."

"Every underdog wants to be top cat."

"Love never travels alone."

"Dreams reveal what thoughts conceal."

"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."

"You can't spell tragedy without rage."

"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."

"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."

"The past and future are distant cousins."

"Hope is always listening."

"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."

"Nothing will get you in better shape than a breakup."

"Time is a tattletale."

"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."

"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."

"We are connected by smiles and tears."

"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."

"If infidelity was a crime they would have to build more prisons."

"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."

"The ego is a phony friend."

"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."

"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."

"My train of thought has no conductor."
Patricia LeDuc Mar 2018
Commuters on a train
Going to work every day

Too fast the tracks say
They cause the train to sway
As they wobble and stray

Too fast the tracks say
As the brakes start to fail
As they scream out and pray

Too fast the tracks say
As the train goes off the rail
As the trains bursts into flame

Too fast the tracks say
As the train fills with smoke
As they all start to choke

Too fast the tracks say
As the conductor wakes up
A little too late

Too fast the tracks say
Commuters all dead
I warned you I said

Too Fast...
2/3/18
Espresso manic Nov 2017
Art is an extrovert.

She goes out clubbing on Saturday nights,
scotch in hand,
indecisiveness plaguing her mind,
dancing ‘til her feet are numb.

She rings the tune of a
possessed conductor.
White dress, black collar,
I know her face,
but not her name.

From the bar I watch
her obsidian silhouette expand
as her skin becomes rose petals,
and her hips conduct the music.

She looks like a drunken mess,
arms flailing, heels bending,
but to the peculiar mind
she paints
an alluring picture.
Inspired by Phosphorescence by J. *******
i was out of motivation to come up w a better title
trf Nov 2017
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.

"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.

Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng Hào bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.

The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.

Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.

Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.

The  Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks

Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.  
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
Frankie Gestone Mar 2013
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time.  He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.

Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.

When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.

The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.

It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.

While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.

On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.

He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.

“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.

The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.

As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.

That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.

They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.

Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.

He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.

He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.

The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.

He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.

Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
Mr Ketchups first trip on a tram
A Story by ROSALIND






Jun 2014

Title



Mr. Ketchup was ready and waiting for the first tram to run to the Burgh Street airport. It had been years of utter chaos with all the road works and the endless track being laid on every road in Butterworth town.
  ‘About time too - my feet are killing me’ said Ketchup.
  ‘Yes,' answered a bleary eyed Haggis.
  ‘Oh I do wish that these people would stop shoveling’ snapped Ketchup.
  ‘Be patient otherwise we’ll all land up on the floor’ said Haggis.
  ‘It’s hardly surprising, look at everyone all packed in like sardines.’ groaned Ketchup.
  ‘Oh Mr Ketchup why do you have to complain about the least wee thing? Torn-face Tomato frowned.



The tram took ages before reaching the first station, and poor old Ketchup was desperate for a cold drink. He certainly looked annoyed in fact he seemed like he'd pass out at any second. No one could get moving and soon it would be time for the journey to end. But oh dear Mr. Ketchup felt dizzy and stars were floating in front of his eyes. Slowly he lost his balance and landed on the next lot of passengers, knocking them to the floor. Haggis looked like he’d seen a ghost. Well as you can imagine it wasn't a good experience for Mr Ketchup and his friends. The conductor stopped the tram while the other passengers got off in disgust making complaints to the conductor.
Mr Ketchup slowly came around while Haggis returned with a glass of cold water.
   ‘Eek ...what happened, my head feels a bit funny moaned Ketchup.
Neaps and Haggis hardly had time to explain when the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. Mr. Ketchup made a big fuss about lying on the stretcher but Haggis insisted on it. He lay wincing all the way to the hospital because of all the bumpy roads. They shouldn't have spent all of that money on the trams - it was shocking. It would have been far better to fix all these holes in the road he thought to himself.

After a long day Mr Ketchup climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. The very next morning the incident appeared in the local newspaper. The transport department were blamed for overcrowding the tram. The council were looking into the health and safety rules. Due to the very serious injuries that poor old Ketchup had suffered, he would be in line for a huge pay out or so he thought.
It wasn't until the first hearing in the court that he realised it would only be a pittance.

   Well I might have known it was too good to be true. He thought If they think that they can fob me off with sweets then they have got another coming. He smirked.      

  ‘What do you have in mind Haggis?’ he said looking worried."
  ‘Just you wait and see’ said Ketchup grinning.



The very next day Ketchup got up early and he had written half a dozen letters to very important people. One too the prime-minster to start with.
Within a matter of a week he received the letter that he longed for, inviting Ketchup to the prime-minister’s office. Mr Ketchup couldn't find his best suit, ‘Oh bother he thought the only one I do have has shrunk at the legs. It looks like my cat has died in them.’ he wailed.
  ‘Oh just look at you’ laughed Neaps and Haggis.
  ‘Why are you laughing at me?’ frowned Ketchup."
  ‘You're going dressed like a *****’ he roared with laughter.
  ‘You do look rather strange Neaps’ he said and looking away trying not to laugh again.
  ‘Well I suppose so if you say so’ he nodded.
  ‘Look why don't you all come down to mine, and I’ll sort you out smiled Torn-Faced Tomato.



Mr Ketchup couldn't believe what he was hearing, had Torn-face turned over a new leaf or maybe she had a soft spot after all. Half an hour later Ketchup looked fit to see the queen, neatly dressed in a tweed jacket with matching trousers and a white shirt with a green tie. He looked ever so smart. Ketchup whistled but oh dear he never noticed the cat tail and went flying, landing right in the cats dinner.  

Oh dear it looks like Mr Ketchup won't be going anywhere for the time being.....
What do you think?




Jun 2014

Title



Mr. Ketchup was ready and waiting for the first tram to run to the Burgh Street airport. It had been years of utter chaos with all the road works and the endless track being laid on every road in Butterworth town.
  ‘About time too - my feet are killing me’ said Ketchup.
  ‘Yes,' answered a bleary eyed Haggis.
  ‘Oh I do wish that these people would stop shoveling’ snapped Ketchup.
  ‘Be patient otherwise we’ll all land up on the floor’ said Haggis.
  ‘It’s hardly surprising, look at everyone all packed in like sardines.’ groaned Ketchup.
  ‘Oh Mr Ketchup why do you have to complain about the least wee thing? Torn-face Tomato frowned.



The tram took ages before reaching the first station, and poor old Ketchup was desperate for a cold drink. He certainly looked annoyed in fact he seemed like he'd pass out at any second. No one could get moving and soon it would be time for the journey to end. But oh dear Mr. Ketchup felt dizzy and stars were floating in front of his eyes. Slowly he lost his balance and landed on the next lot of passengers, knocking them to the floor. Haggis looked like he’d seen a ghost. Well as you can imagine it wasn't a good experience for Mr Ketchup and his friends. The conductor stopped the tram while the other passengers got off in disgust making complaints to the conductor.
Mr Ketchup slowly came around while Haggis returned with a glass of cold water.
   ‘Eek ...what happened, my head feels a bit funny moaned Ketchup.
Neaps and Haggis hardly had time to explain when the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. Mr. Ketchup made a big fuss about lying on the stretcher but Haggis insisted on it. He lay wincing all the way to the hospital because of all the bumpy roads. They shouldn't have spent all of that money on the trams - it was shocking. It would have been far better to fix all these holes in the road he thought to himself.

After a long day Mr Ketchup climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. The very next morning the incident appeared in the local newspaper. The transport department were blamed for overcrowding the tram. The council were looking into the health and safety rules. Due to the very serious injuries that poor old Ketchup had suffered, he would be in line for a huge pay out or so he thought.
It wasn't until the first hearing in the court that he realised it would only be a pittance.

   Well I might have known it was too good to be true. He thought If they think that they can fob me off with sweets then they have got another coming. He smirked.      

  ‘What do you have in mind Haggis?’ he said looking worried."
  ‘Just you wait and see’ said Ketchup grinning.



The very next day Ketchup got up early and he had written half a dozen letters to very important people. One too the prime-minster to start with.
Within a matter of a week he received the letter that he longed for, inviting Ketchup to the prime-minister’s office. Mr Ketchup couldn't find his best suit, ‘Oh bother he thought the only one I do have has shrunk at the legs. It looks like my cat has died in them.’ he wailed.
  ‘Oh just look at you’ laughed Neaps and Haggis.
  ‘Why are you laughing at me?’ frowned Ketchup."
  ‘You're going dressed like a *****’ he roared with laughter.
  ‘You do look rather strange Neaps’ he said and looking away trying not to laugh again.
  ‘Well I suppose so if you say so’ he nodded.
  ‘Look why don't you all come down to mine, and I’ll sort you out smiled Torn-Faced Tomato.



Mr Ketchup couldn't believe what he was hearing, had Torn-face turned over a new leaf or maybe she had a soft spot after all. Half an hour later Ketchup looked fit to see the queen, neatly dressed in a tweed jacket with matching trousers and a white shirt with a green tie. He looked ever so smart. Ketchup whistled but oh dear he never noticed the cat tail and went flying, landing right in the cats dinner.  

Oh dear it looks like Mr Ketchup won't be going anywhere for the time being.....
What do you think?





Jun 2014

Title



Mr. Ketchup was ready and waiting for the first tram to run to the Burgh Street airport. It had been years of utter chaos with all the road works and the endless track being laid on every road in Butterworth town.
  ‘About time too - my feet are killing me’ said Ketchup.
  ‘Yes,' answered a bleary eyed Haggis.
  ‘Oh I do wish that these people would stop shoveling’ snapped Ketchup.
  ‘Be patient otherwise we’ll all land up on the floor’ said Haggis.
  ‘It’s hardly surprising, look at everyone all packed in like sardines.’ groaned Ketchup.
  ‘Oh Mr Ketchup why do you have to complain about the least wee thing? Torn-face Tomato frowned.



The tram took ages before reaching the first station, and poor old Ketchup was desperate for a cold drink. He certainly looked annoyed in fact he seemed like he'd pass out at any second. No one could get moving and soon it would be time for the journey to end. But oh dear Mr. Ketchup felt dizzy and stars were floating in front of his eyes. Slowly he lost his balance and landed on the next lot of passengers, knocking them to the floor. Haggis looked like he’d seen a ghost. Well as you can imagine it wasn't a good experience for Mr Ketchup and his friends. The conductor stopped the tram while the other passengers got off in disgust making complaints to the conductor.
Mr Ketchup slowly came around while Haggis returned with a glass of cold water.
   ‘Eek ...what happened, my head feels a bit funny moaned Ketchup.
Neaps and Haggis hardly had time to explain when the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. Mr. Ketchup made a big fuss about lying on the stretcher but Haggis insisted on it. He lay wincing all the way to the hospital because of all the bumpy roads. They shouldn't have spent all of that money on the trams - it was shocking. It would have been far better to fix all these holes in the road he thought to himself.

After a long day Mr Ketchup climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. The very next morning the incident appeared in the local newspaper. The transport department were blamed for overcrowding the tram. The council were looking into the health and safety rules. Due to the very serious injuries that poor old Ketchup had suffered, he would be in line for a huge pay out or so he thought.
It wasn't until the first hearing in the court that he realised it would only be a pittance.

   Well I might have known it was too good to be true. He thought If they think that they can fob me off with sweets then they have got another coming. He smirked.      

  ‘What do you have in mind Haggis?’ he said looking worried."
  ‘Just you wait and see’ said Ketchup grinning.



The very next day Ketchup got up early and he had written half a dozen letters to very important people. One too the prime-minster to start with.
Within a matter of a week he received the letter that he longed for, inviting Ketchup to the prime-minister’s office. Mr Ketchup couldn't find his best suit, ‘Oh bother he thought the only one I do have has shrunk at the legs. It looks like my cat has died in them.’ he wailed.
  ‘Oh just look at you’ laughed Neaps and Haggis.
  ‘Why are you laughing at me?’ frowned Ketchup."
  ‘You're going dressed like a *****’ he roared with laughter.
  ‘You do look rather strange Neaps’ he said and looking away trying not to laugh again.
  ‘Well I suppose so if you say so’ he nodded.
  ‘Look why don't you all come down to mine, and I’ll sort you out smiled Torn-Faced Tomato.



Mr Ketchup couldn't believe what he was hearing, had Torn-face turned over a new leaf or maybe she had a soft spot after all. Half an hour later Ketchup looked fit to see the queen, neatly dressed in a tweed jacket with matching trousers and a white shirt with a green tie. He looked ever so smart. Ketchup whistled but oh dear he never noticed the cat tail and went flying, landing right in the cats dinner.  

Oh dear it looks like Mr Ketchup won't be going anywhere for the time being..
What do you think?
I wish those words ran like a river
I wish those words could spill from my hand
I wish they could dance when written on paper
I wish they could erupt lava unto the land

I wish my words flowed as good as water
I wish it had rythm meant to be read
I wish you could see the meaning stacked under
I wish the Earth rumbled hearing it said

I wish I were a crafter, creater, a conductor
A wordsmith when giving it form
I wish I were creative enough to write masterpieces
I wish my imagination was a storm
What4221 Jul 2018
action

actiON

ACTION!

Painted stage
Painted lips
Painted face

Eyes glow and watch from darkness and your smile shows sharp teeth

(Come and dance with me)

Wooden stage
Wooden mask
Wooden eyes

After centuries of acting, you’d think we'd know how to act alive

(Let’s burn this place down)

The conductor and the cameras and the jerking strings of fate

Puppet show
False hopes
Thought we had control but it’s too late

(The camera has glowing red eyes)

(You say it looks like a demon in disguise)


I’m real life and paper sketches
Stretched thin over a thousand lives
Barely living mine
While you write how I die again

(I’m not the hero- I don’t get the happy end)


Sudden hot breath and something like sin
A sound near my ear
I can’t let them win
But the cameras are rolling
I’m just an actor on stage
And when parents catch their kids watching
They say I’m the one to blame

We’re spiraling down-
Cutesy plays in elementary
And wild songs and dances
And then suddenly
We forget we need to advance

Put my name on an application-
Just more paper, lost to the wind

You dragged me to lights
And then you dragged me to sin

But the pays good
So I guess I’ll let you win.
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