Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The train it rolls along the track.
The kids all get restless the parents all natter,
But at least they aren’t crying, so that doesn’t matter.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A child hollers out “mum I feel sick!”
“What did I tell you about eating those sweets?”
“Don’t make a mess all over these seats!”

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The guard sitting bored, in his cab at the back.
We thunder through towns and all of its people,
Passing by churches, and that old pointed steeple.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A drinks cart on the train? Ah just the trick,
A nice cup of coffee and a cold can of beer,
“How much?  You’re kidding!”  I won’t get much change here!

Clickety click, Clickety clunk,
Oops, sounds like that rail's missing a chunk.
We cross over bridges, spanning their rivers,
I must close that window, it’s giving me shivers.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
I’m getting hungry; I could use a good snack.
Back comes the hostess with her goods laden trolley,
No chance I’m parting with even more lolly.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
So many destinations, which one should I pick?
Should I stay local, or should I go far?
It’s certainly more peaceful than driving a car.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
It feels like we’re speeding along a fair whack.
The seconds to minutes, the minutes to hours,
From towns and their houses, to fields and their flowers.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
Wherever I’m going, I’m getting there quick.
Bright eyed young faces, an adventure, exciting,
The doddery old folk, complain when alighting

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
We pass many crossings and a ***** old shack.
How many golf courses and quaint country pubs?
And weekend gardeners out pruning their shrubs.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
These seats so uncomfy, now my neck's got a crick!
Now finally I've reached my long journey’s end,
And I'm glad that I've shared it with you my dear friend.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012

Life is the prattle of an old lady.

She squawks either too loudly
or makes you crane to hear.

as she sits rocking,
her senile nonsense numbs your intelligence
until you sit bleary-
gaping at the air
like the fattest fish in the aquarium.

your every comment drowns
in the mush
of her tapioca voice.

you sit uncomfortably in her fishbowl world of
cottage cheese,
faded floral print- lace doilies
and contemplate your deft superiority
as her denture clicks gnaw on your sanity.

as soon as you think
a vague plotline surfaces in her mumbling
a new great aunt’s third cousin’s baby
weaves its way into the conversation,
and you are hopelessly thrown
like a reused dryer sheet
back into the colored load.

occasionally you attempt to establish a connection
between you and the venerable wrinkled smile
but she mishears and begins another
disconnected strain
featuring Bobby, the lad turned soldier.

but
just
as soon as you gain confidence
that you know how to handle this doddery senior-
she slams you with a small token
of sage advice
that shatters your naïve sphere
with its mind-wrenching validity.

How we laughed and laughed
hardly noticing the ****** of dimwits
in their ritual obscene displays
of blind archers leading the infantry

How we laughed and laughed
in contempt at the stupefied wet mobs
scrambled brains *******
showing base exposures of banality

How we laughed and laughed
to see droops of eunuchs aping Lotharios
twitching stubs as tools for tools
moaning power to us as green eyes blazes

How we laughed and laughed
its pathetic posturing's of chalked cowards
ochered in snow frost blindness
at the roots of its all is primeval ***** envy

We know causing us laughter and laughter
some will have what you can never have
to be royally gifted is their dreams
to not have and not be is their living nightmares

Bread soaked in milk?

I wonder if that memory was mine or has time overtaken me to leave me so doddery that I fell into someone else's reverie.

jeeesus it's Sunday give me a break.

A green soap and sugar hot poultice?
take no notice of me
I'm still in someone else's memory.

In the battle of realism and fantasy,
Precious smile of the lips,I lost,
Where I met many cocktail faces
So called as human beings but tend to be phantoms.

They seem to like indulging in hoaxity,
From which they only receive resentment,
Yet they hanker after it for doddery amusement.
Snubbing and brushing off the real endearment.