The Great Train Robbery
I'm not a guy wants to shirk
I just want to get to work.
But every morning just my luck
To be packed in cattle a truck.
Crushed and shaken to the bone,
Not enough space to use my phone.
The trains are dirty poor and slow,
Some never even make a show.
Everyday it just gets worse.
What have we done to be so cursed.
The price we pay is really high,
They'll keep on squeezing till we're dry
The amount we pay you must agree
Is just a great train robbery.
Copyright 2012 P H Brookes.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Related quotes
Spare a Dime
You walk right on passed him everyday,
Stepping to one side 'cause he's in your way.
You look down on him making a clutter,
A poor lonely man down in the gutter.
A judgment is made upon this poor soul,
Fallen on hard times now in a hole.
You quickly rush by him and try not to see,
You think that you are better he.
You don't know his history or why he's there
And like many others you don't seem care
He's like the garbbage of no interest or use
Only fit for hate and abuse.
You walk right passed him, pretend he's not there
Yet he's still human in need of your care,
He once had a family and some one to love
Just give him your pity, heavens above.
So if he asks you to spare him a cent
Just think of it as a kindly hand lent
And give him a coin you've nothing to lose
And just be grateful you're not in his shoes.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions Unanswered
Ah those days of starched shirts
Of water boiling in the copper,
And soap-flakes snow-white
And the mangle in the corner
Like a medieval implement of torture
Waiting to grind and squeeze.
And granny's hair wrapped in cloth
The goodly housewife at work
Hands red, hot water immersed,
Sweated in the washing room.
Each Mondays Herculean task
The stringing on lines for all to see
Of pure white sheets rinsed in Dolly Blue.
To wash the families dirty linen clean.
But never speak of the true dirty secrets
That scrubbing could not undo,
That gallons of bleach could not erase
Nor boiling water wipe out.
The lies told to protect
Which ended up hurting.
The scars though healed still itch.
The front of respectability kept up
But its upkeep too heavier price too heavy
Leaving me with unanswered questions.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Good Morning Mr. Railroad Man
(traditional)
Good morning, mr. railroad man
What time do your trains roll by ?
"at 9:16 and 2:44 and 25 minutes 'till 5"
"at 9:16 and 2:44 and 25 minutes 'till 5"
Thank you, mr. railroad man
I want to watch your trains go by
Standing on a platform, smoking a cheap cigar
And waiting for an old freight train that carries an empty car
Well, i pulled my hat down over my eyes
And i walked across the tracks
And i caught me the end of an old freight train
And i never did come back
Well, i sat down in a gamblin' game
But i could not play my hand
I was thinkin' about the woman i loved
Run away with another man, poor boy
Run away with another man
I was thinking about the woman that i loved
Run away with another man
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What’s Luck?
Luck is something that comes, not so often;
Luck is an occurrence in life, quite rare;
Luck’s unpredictable phenomenon;
Luck is a devil that is rarely kind!
Luck’s the last thing one should ev’r depend on;
Luck cannot simply come to all always;
Luck can’t work magic without labor hard;
Luck is futile if basic things aren’t done.
Luck is a make-up that needs a good face;
Luck’s a pretty dame with contours and shape;
Luck is an element of great surprise;
Luck is not the usual way, world goes by!
Luck is the decoration on a cake;
Luck’s a factor that clicks for some at times;
Luck isn’t the first thing, we trust any time;
Perseverance is key to success prime.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-23-2009
poem by John Celes
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Endgame Stream XI
This state of mind
Envelops my wits.
Find myself
At my wits end.
A life on hold.
Looking through
An opaque veneer.
The world indifferent
Spins on,
Puts me in a spin.
Hovering on the horizon
Stuck between night and day.
In everlasting twilight
Where nothing has definition,
Not defined.
But low upon the skyline
A slow lick of sun
Burns away the gloom,
Illuminates the path
Disipates the fog.
Life retuns.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too High
Above the cloud lies a yellow sun sky,
Where all appears clear, nothing passing by,
Too high for the birds when upon the wing,
Too high for a phone to so harshly ring,
What peace reigns there, gone away all the strains,
Of a life commuting on planes and trains.
Above the cloud there is just endless space,
Nothing to plague you, liberty’s embrace.
Too high for one’s everyday problems there,
Too high, so one wouldn’t have a care
What a freedom we would suddenly find,
By leaving this earthbound land far behind.
Above the cloud is one glorious day,
So how about we go there right away.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Poor Fools
Poor fools we are-
We cannot seem to touch.
Although we are so near
A heart beat apart,
But we are walled off
Each in our cell of misery.
We built this wall high.
Cemented it with our tears.
Set each brick with pain.
Disected our love.
Sliced it into a thousand pieces;
Cut each other with cruel words.
Until it withered - died.
And we are left with dust.
P H Brookes Copyright 2011
poem by Paul Brookes
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Work!
Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !
poem by Umasree Raghunath
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What Price So High Should One Agree To Pay
What price so high should one agree to pay,
That comes to sacrifice one's life away.
What degree of devotion is determined fits,
The giving one does...
With no return to replace any of it.
But remaining one does,
Attached to prove it to exist.
What price so high should one agree to pay,
To satisfy those judgemental.
As if it is known,
What a loyalty takes by those ready to critique.
Those without a discipline,
Or an intgerity instilled within one to keep...
Faithful.
What price so high should one agree to pay,
If the price one continues paying,
Is not to others valued.
Or observed to them to have worth,
With a benefit that visually impresses...
To measure up to the ever changing presence,
Of a quality of life fading from precious standards.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Got To Show
Yes it's true
I've gotten very
Moody over you
Don't think i don't
Sense your caution
Way across the room
Or across the phone lines
Big black ocean
Conversation brief
We can't find
A clear connection
And i can't get relief
Why don't we both agree
We're both afraid
And too afraid to say
If i say
Count to three
(count to three)
Move toward me
(move toward me)
Would you meet me half the way
(would you meet me)
There are a thousand things about me
I want only you to know
But i can't go there alone
You've got to show
While you occupy me
I command my dreams
Each day
To bring you in me
Even thinly
As the morning chases you away
I half believe
If i just picture us
We will come true
Wishful thinking
Or my hopes sinking
Half depends on you
Why don't we both agree
(why don't we both agree)
We're both afraid
And too afraid to say
(too afraid to say)
If i say
Count to three
(count to three)
Move toward me
(move toward me)
Would you meet me half the way
(would you meet me)
There are a thousand things about me
I want only you to know
But i can't got there alone
You've got to show me
(show me)
You are fully alive
If you want to fly
Take this dive
If you want to kiss
Kiss for real
I'll give you back everything you feel
Drive in space
That peaceful place
You'd be my secret sharer
Front and back
And all around
The thin margin of error
Ah move too fast
Or move too slow
Or somewhere in between
Or navigate your
Perfect distance
Your getaway is clean
Why don't we both agree
That we're both afraid
And we're too afraid to say
If i say
Count to three
And move toward me
Would you meet me half way
Cause there are a thousand things about me
I want only you to know
I want only you to know
I want only you to know
But i can't got there alone
You've got to show
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trains
Here I am at the end of the day
With a cup of cold coffee
From the station buffet.
On trains, on trains I seem
To spend my life on trains.
See the blue suit banker in the ticket line.
Got an evening standard with playboy
Hidden behind.
On trains, on trains he seems
To spend his life on trains.
Time after time.
Was I just dreaming?
Did I help you aboard?
Full passenger service ---
Let me help with the door.
Sit down take the weight off your feet.
Theres a train full of people Id like
You to meet.
On trains, on trains we love
To spend our lives on trains.
Join the secret world of trains.
Feel the pleasure. touch the pain.
Drift into yesterday.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet sometime
On the 17.30 where
I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
May we pay your fare, lady?
We should like you to stay
In our train. on trains ---
Youll have to spend your life
On trains.
I hear theres an office party on the 18.05.
Youll be home for christmas if they
Take you alive from the train.
Those trains, we have to spend our lives
On trains.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet any time
On number two platform
Where I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
On trains, trains, trains.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Train To Clarkesville
Take the last train to Clarksville,
And I'll meet you at the station.
You can be be there by four thirty,
'Cause I made your reservation.
Don't be slow, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
'Cause I'm leavin' in the morning
And I must see you again
We'll have one more night together
'Til the morning brings my train.
And I must go, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
And I don't know if I'm ever coming home.
Take the last train to Clarksville.
I'll be waiting at the station.
We'll have time for coffee flavored kisses
And a bit of conversation.
Oh... Oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
Take the last train to Clarksville,
Now I must hang up the phone.
I can't hear you in this noisy
Railroad station all alone.
I'm feelin' low. Oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
And I don't know if I'm ever coming home.
Take the last train to Clarksville,
Take the last train to Clarksville,
[repeat and fade
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fallen Marker
A construct de-constructed
Scattered.
Demolished.
Marble carved words
Muddled now,
Muddied.
Problematic,
No translation,
An undecipherable code.
Soon the wind will blow
And the words will be dust.
Erased from memory.
Mixed in earth.
Lost.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Are Now Dead
Drivers are all idiots apart from me,
They shouldn't be allowed on the road,
When people see me I'm sure they'll agree,
With great skills I have been bestowed.
Yes I've had accidents but they're never my fault,
It's the idiot in the other car,
My knowledge of driving they should exalt,
I'm the superior driver by far.
Women as drivers are all second rate,
As are all those red blooded males,
Learner drivers I really hate,
They remind of slow crawling snails.
I drive through puddles at great speed,
Whenever I see someone walk by,
When you see me coming you better take heed,
With common decency I refuse to comply.
The Highway Code is a waste of space,
I can and do whatever I choose,
Want to keep up I will give you a race,
Though I can guarantee you will lose.
I use my mobile while driving fast,
To say it's not safe is a myth,
I can do anything with the skills I've amassed,
So you'd better all listen forthwith.
I can drink and drive without any ado,
So why do the police make a fuss,
These stupid laws only apply to you,
If you're that worried then jump on a bus.
By going through red lights there's trouble brewing,
So far I've never caused anyone harm,
I don't really care it's the law I'm screwing,
Despite the fact I know it causes alarm.
I went through a level crossing one night,
As the train passed I just didn't care,
I would never admit that it gave me a fright,
But of a presence I became aware.
He said you have been a bit of a fool,
You've now paid the ultimate price,
That train just crushed you, yes it was cruel,
At least your death was clear and concise.
I froze with fear and stood rooted to the spot,
I said you must be off of your head,
He said you're coming with me to a place that's hot,
Because of your arrogance,
‘' You Are Now Dead ‘'
Old Joe The Black Cattle Dog
Old Joe the black cattle dog has known a better day
Around his jaws he is looking rather gray
He still works cattle but at a much slower pace
A young dog is being trained to take his place,
Old Joe a great cattle dog from a great working line
Is getting old for working cattle at nine
Though still keen to work nowadays he easily tire
The old legs tiring though he still has the desire
To work at cattle but his owner Jimmy say
That Joe is nearing his final working day
He will retire him he has done enough
At his age working cattle for him is too tough
He was a renowned working dog in his prime
But dog and master must bow to father time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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Slade It In
You keep on pushing, babe,
Like i've never known before
You know you drive me crazy, child,
An' i just wanna see you on the floor
I wanna superstitious woman
An' she got a superstitious mind
I can't see you, baby,
I can't see you anymore, no more
You keep on loving me
Like i've never known before
I wanna superstitious woman
With a superstitious, a superstitious mind, an' i don't mind, baby
My heart is beating faster, babe,
It's beating like a big bass drum
You know you got me speeding, child,
Faster than a bullet from a gun
You're a superstitious woman
An' i got a superstitious mind, an' i don't care
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone
I don't care about, oh,
I don't care about love, no more
The way you keep abusing me
Oh, i can't take no more
I wanna woman
She got a superstitious mind
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
Take me down slow an' easy,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone
Take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow An Easy
(coverdale/moody)
You keep on pushing, babe,
Like Ive never known before
You know you drive me crazy, child,
An I just wanna see you on the floor
I wanna superstitious woman
An she got a superstitious mind
I cant see you, baby,
I cant see you anymore, no more
You keep on loving me
Like Ive never known before
I wanna superstitious woman
With a superstitious, a superstitious mind, an I dont mind, baby
My heart is beating faster, babe,
Its beating like a big bass drum
You know you got me speeding, child,
Faster than a bullet from a gun
Youre a superstitious woman
An I got a superstitious mind, an I dont care
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone
I dont care about, oh,
I dont care about love, no more
The way you keep abusing me
Oh, I cant take no more
I wanna woman
She got a superstitious mind
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
Take me down slow an easy,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone
Take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man And The Echo
Man. In a cleft that's christened Alt
Under broken stone I halt
At the bottom of a pit
That broad noon has never lit,
And shout a secret to the stone.
All that I have said and done,
Now that I am old and ill,
Turns into a question till
I lie awake night after night
And never get the answers right.
Did that play of mine send out
Certain men the English shot?
Did words of mine put too great strain
On that woman's reeling brain?
Could my spoken words have checked
That whereby a house lay wrecked?
And all seems evil until I
Sleepless would lie down and die.
Echo. Lie down and die.
Man. That were to shirk
The spiritual intellect's great work,
And shirk it in vain. There is no release
In a bodkin or disease,
Nor can there be work so great
As that which cleans man's dirty slate.
While man can still his body keep
Wine or love drug him to sleep,
Waking he thanks the Lord that he
Has body and its stupidity,
But body gone he sleeps no more,
And till his intellect grows sure
That all's arranged in one clear view,
pursues the thoughts that I pursue,
Then stands in judgment on his soul,
And, all work done, dismisses all
Out of intellect and sight
And sinks at last into the night.
Echo. Into the night.
Man. O Rocky Voice,
Shall we in that great night rejoice?
What do we know but that we face
One another in this place?
But hush, for I have lost the theme,
Its joy or night-seem but a dream;
Up there some hawk or owl has struck,
Dropping out of sky or rock,
A stricken rabbit is crying out,
And its cry distracts my thought.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Man And The Echo
Man
IN a cleft that's christened Alt
Under broken stone I halt
At the bottom of a pit
That broad noon has never lit,
And shout a secret to the stone.
All that I have said and done,
Now that I am old and ill,
Turns into a question till
I lie awake night after night
And never get the answers right.
Did that play of mine send out
Certain men the English shot?
Did words of mine put too great strain
On that woman's reeling brain?
Could my spoken words have checked
That whereby a house lay wrecked?
And all seems evil until I
Sleepless would lie down and die.
Echo
Lie down and die.
Man
That were to shirk
The spiritual intellect's great work,
And shirk it in vain. There is no release
In a bodkin or disease,
Nor can there be work so great
As that which cleans man's dirty slate.
While man can still his body keep
Wine or love drug him to sleep,
Waking he thanks the Lord that he
Has body and its stupidity,
But body gone he sleeps no more,
And till his intellect grows sure
That all's arranged in one clear view,
pursues the thoughts that I pursue,
Then stands in judgment on his soul,
And, all work done, dismisses all
Out of intellect and sight
And sinks at last into the night.
Echo
Into the night.
Man
O Rocky Voice,
Shall we in that great night rejoice?
What do we know but that we face
One another in this place?
But hush, for I have lost the theme,
Its joy or night-seem but a dream;
Up there some hawk or owl has struck,
Dropping out of sky or rock,
A stricken rabbit is crying out,
And its cry distracts my thought.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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