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Monkey & The Engineer

Once upon a time there was an engineer.
Drove a locomotive both far and near.
Accompanied by a monkey that would sit on a stool
Watching everything the engineer would do
One day the engineer wanted a bite to eat,
He left the monkey sitting on the drivers seat,
The monkey pulled the throttle, the locomotive jumped the gun
And did 80 miles an hour down the mainline run.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive no. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.
The engineer called up the dispatcher on the phone,
To tell him all about his locomotive was gone.
Dispatcher got on the wire, switch operator to the right,
Cause the monkeys got the main line sewed up tight.
The switch operator got the message on time,
Said theres a northbound livin on the same main line,
Open up the switch Im gonna let him through the hole,
Cause the monkeys got the locomotive under control.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive no. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monkey And The Engineer

Once upon a time there was an engineer.
Drove a locomotive both far and near.
Accompanied by a monkey that would sit on a stool
Watching everything the engineer would do
One day the engineer wanted a bite to eat,
He left the monkey sitting on the driver's seat,
The monkey pulled the throttle, the locomotive jumped the gun
And did 80 miles an hour down the mainline run.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.
The engineer called up the dispatcher on the phone,
To tell him all about his locomotive was gone.
Dispatcher got on the wire, switch operator to the right,
Cause the monkey's got the main line sewed up tight.
The switch operator got the message on time,
Said there's a Northbound livin' on the same main line,
Open up the switch I'm gonna let him through the hole,
Cause the monkey's got the locomotive under control.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Raising Steam

Over high plains, through the snow...
Roll those tracks out, dont you know
Im raising steam.
Thin vein creeping; hot blood flow...
Spill a little where the new towns grow.
I got my whole life hanging in a sack,
Heading out into that wide world wide.
You got your locomotive sitting on your track
And I dont care which way I ride.
I may not be coming back.
Left a lady with a heart
All in pieces come apart
Raising steam.
That engine up front must
Have a heart big enough for the both of us.
Riding shotgun on the sunset, stare it in the eye,
Rocking on my heels out to the west.
Funny how the whole world, historically,
Feels the urge to chase the sun to rest.
We may not be coming back.
Let me be your engineer...
Have you smiling ear to ear
Raising steam.
And will you tell me how it feels
When youre up and rolling on your driving wheels?
I got my whole life hanging in a sack,
Heading out into that wide world wide.
Ill be your locomotive blowing off its stack
And I dont care which way I ride.
I may not be coming back.
Raising steam.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hes Gone

Rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb, you know better but I know him.
Like I told you, what I said, steal your face right off your head.
Now hes gone, now hes gone, lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Nine mile skid on a ten mile ride, hot as a pistol but cool inside.
Cat on a tin roof, dogs in a pile,
Nothin left to do but smile, smile, smile!!!!
Now hes gone, now hes gone lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Goin where the wind dont blow so strange,
Maybe off on some high cold mountain chain.
Lost one round but the price wasnt anything,
A knife in the back and more of the same.
Same old, rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb,
You know better but I know him.
Like I told you, what I said,
Steal your face right off your head.
Now hes gone, now hes gone lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Ooh, nothins gonna bring him back.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See The Sky About To Rain

See the sky about to rain, broken clouds and rain.
Locomotive, pull the train, whistle blowing through my brain.
Signals curling on an open plain, rolling down the track again.
See the sky about to rain.
Some are bound for happiness, some are bound to glory
Some are bound to live with less, who can tell your story?
See the sky about to rain, broken clouds and rain.
Locomotive, pull the train, whistle blowin through my brain.
Signals curlin on an open plain, rollin down the track again.
See the sky about to rain.
I was down in dixie land, played a silver fiddle
Played it loud and then the man broke it down the middle.
See the sky about to rain.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freight Train

Well I just came down from Chippewa
I had a station wagon and a hundred dollars
I was thinkin' about the girl I'd lost a year before
I hadn't seen her for some time
I thought that I might go on by
When your memory came floodin' in
And you closed that door

[CHORUS:]

Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a diesel locomotive
I'd come whistlin' down your track
Crashin' in your door
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I didn't have a heart
And you'd need a shovel for the coal
Just to get me started
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a freight train

Well every time I talk to you
And I hear your jealous lies
I feel like I've been left abandoned
On some old railway side
And every time I hear your voice
My water just gets cold
My stoker will not stoke
And my boiler will not boil

[CHORUS]

Well every time I fell behind
And I could not get ahead
I wish someone would pull the lever
And give me a little sand
And every time I slip behind
Even further back
I wish some switchman would come out of the fog
And change my track

Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a diesel locomotive
I'd come whistlin' down your track
Crashin' in your door
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I didn't have a heart
And you'd need a shovel for the coal
Just to get me started
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a freight train . . .

song performed by by Kasey Chambers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.

quote by William C. Bryant
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To us, the moment 8:17 A.M. means something - something very important, if it happens to be the starting time of our daily train. To our ancestors, such an odd eccentric instant was without significance - did not even exist. In inventing the locomotive, Watt and Stevenson were part inventors of time.

quote by Aldous Huxley
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No man can be ideally successful until he has found his place. Like a locomotive he is strong on the track, but weak anywhere else.

quote by Orison Swett Marden
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Horses and mules, and even sail cars, made more rapid progress than did the earliest locomotive.

quote by John Moody
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Phrenology taught us that the mind thinks by means of the brain, is liable to become fatigued by too long attention, as the locomotive muscles are by too much walking; and I therefore proposed to them to take a brief rest.

quote by George Combe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hey Porter

(johnny cash)
(c) - (g) - (f)
(c) hey, porter, hey porter! would you tell me the (f) time?
(c) how much longer will it be til we cross that (g) mason dixon line? (c)
At daylight would you tell the engineer to slow it (f) down;
Or better still, just stop the train cause I (g) wanna look a (c) round.
Hey, porter! hey porter! what time did you say ?
How much longer will it be till I can see the light of day ?
When we hit dixie would ya tell the engineer to ring his bell;
And tell everybody that aint asleep to stand right up and yell.
Hey, porter! hey, porter! please, go on and get my bags for me,
I dont need nobody to tell me now that Im in tennessee.
Were not so far from home, you know, and its a-getting light outside
This old train is a-puffin smoke and I have to strain in my eyes
Hey porter! hey porter! please open up the door.
When they stop this train Im gonna get off first cause I cant wait no more.
Tell the engineer I say, thanks a lot. and I didnt mind the fare.
Im gonna set my feet on southern soil, Im gonna breathe the southern air.

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rahm Emanuel is son of the devil's spawn. He is an individual who would sell his mother to get a vote. He would strap his children to the front end of a steam locomotive.

quote by Eric Massa
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In a world full of competing emergencies and disasters, it really helps if there is an international locomotive that can help us bring attention - help us bring resources.

quote by Jan Egeland
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My old drunkard companion

Once a war veteran, who goes
with an old haversack which carry the belongings
hanging on his shoulder.
On his way towards the pedestrian crossing
stands at a bus stop a long time
and waiting for the train called 'Desire'.
Which is scheduled via the Cancer Reservation.
He lit a cheap cigarette, pulled a big puff to bottom of his lungs
and talking to himself.
'It seems to be an exile.'
Sounds of the locomotive echoes as ' passengers get ready please,
those who want to disembark at the station of farewell to the existence'.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Telepathic Love

If ever stranded
On a perilous highway
In a frightening city
Where every human smile
Is disingenuous
Like an inescapable nightmare,
And your heartbeat races
Like a runaway, demon locomotive;
Remember my name
Like a childhood prayer:

There is such a thing
As telepathic love,
And I will find you.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Know that a monkey is on your back

There is a monkey on your back

At any point of time each one of us is carrying a monkey on the back.

Whether you like it or not your thoughts, words and deeds are determined by this very powerful monkey.

This monkey is nothing but a personification of the tasks either
assigned to you or taken up on your own.

The life line of the monkey is the strong desire that you nurse to
accomplish these tasks.

You may not know that you only feed this monkey and make it naughty.

They quality of your feed and its extent depend on your knowledge, attitude and earlier practices.

Often, wittingly or unwittingly we act only to get rid of the monkey.

Unfortunately, if one monkey goes the other is just taking its place.

And you think, talk and act accordingly.

Some wise people, are they really wise, pass on the monkey to some other’s back tactfully, so the monkey is rid off, but still alive. This is what
exactly happens in a work environment.

Know your monkeys and their feeds.

Fail not to feed them in time, as monkeys should be fed or shot to death. Otherwise, they will starve to death, forcing you to conduct postmortem.

Keep monkeys' population below the maximum number you can probably feed.

Feed monkeys only by appointment, otherwise you will be feeding them at odd hours.

Feed monkeys personally, if left to others, they may feed wrong and/or in unacceptable doses.

Each monkey is unique, hence its feed and frequency of feed differs.

No monkey stays long. They know when to leave you as once the monkey is satisfied with your hospitality it jumps off your back.

The new monkey on your back is the task to know whether monkeys are there or not on your back.

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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It came to pass

All day we stayed gushing tears
but little came, which we managed to bear
but we were still in fear
cause like th first, the second might disapear

Not so long my prediction arrived.
This time breathing was to be considerd before surviving,
then i knew the pranks of joy and life

Joy i should blame for never stagnant but locomotive like fashion
thus from manshion to manshion.
here and there are pened heart for its accumulation
for the escape of ineluctable tribulation.
From my, i knew must face joy's tradition

poem by Chibuike Nwokike
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Sunflower Sutra

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these

entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

poem by Allen Ginsberg
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The Journey

With the suddenness of a locomotive
that has come to an abrupt halt,
he fell motionless and in a coffin lay.

like -

All mystery sealed in a jar,
All agony compressed
in a tremulous whimper,
All charms shut in an amulet

amid,

the scent of burning incense,
frozen silence,
heaving hearts
and
silent prayers,

While the chariot wheeled him along
the mazy paths,
stretching, stretching endless
to a world,
beyond all galaxies,
to the Elysian Fields-
to a time immeasurable
To abiding infinity
To inconceivable eternity! !

poem by Valsa George
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Rich Vs Poor

If you think the rich will ever give a damn about the poor,
You're asleep on the tracks and don't hear that locomotive roar.
They own the train rushing your way as you sleep on their tracks.
You dream of a play world as they steal your neighborhood shacks.

Politicians who should represent you are at their beck and call.
It's about money plus power and your needs or rights not at all.
In this uncertain country one thing is certain. They'll never relent...
The rich won't be satisfied until they have their greedy 100%!

poem by Gregory Huyette
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