the age of the train (part two)

i'm not angry with gner anymore, although i still haven't tackled my complaint form due to on overwhelming sense of apathy and the knowledge that merely looking at it will make my blood boil...

leeds station. 2 hours waiting for a train. pissed off.

Anyway, sticking very loosely to the train theme (which will probably only become apparent after the follow up to this poem has been uncovered) is the follow up to The Creep Who Stole Croydon; my own incredibly simplistic take on Coleridge's Dejection in which i accuse myself of throwing any old shit together in an attempt to produce something poem-like at the end. There's something about reading it out aloud that reminds me of the rythmic 'clank-clank' that seemed to be ever prevolent on the old slam-door death-traps i used to frequent.

All Write Now

Telegraph punch lines
Yards down the track
Over simplified
(It'll all work out somehow)
Use of Thesaurus
Vocabulary I lack
All write now.

Monumental instrumental
Tools of the trade
Writing through youth
With the greatest aplomb
Dig myself deep
In the grave that I made
Write on write on write on.

Set myself in stone
The end of an age
Invisible works
Materialise somehow
Standing accused
Of the promise that I made
All write now...


April 1997

Note: looking at my poetry database i've since realised that the above poem was originally titled 'It's All Write'. i'm not sure now which one i like best...