The Signalman

We had a head of steam, Coasting along

With hope and thought and feeling

And he stepped in the way, With his red flag waved

The signalman keeps us at bay

He’s ground out his own space, And put a halt on our pace

And the look in his eye, And his words don’t deny

He believes that we don’t belong

He’s marked his territory, Like a dead celebrity

And his simply held smile, And his universal style

He believes that we don’t belong

Don’t take up your position, Imply my morals askew

With your righteousness stuck, To me like glue

Don’t take your position, signalman

As anything more than it is

Mad Travellers

Like so much blood spilt, on so many miles, of clattering track

These effects, like eggshells, they break and crack

Yet within them was all that I thought I knew

All my comforting thoughts, my hopes own proof

Like a box of junk buried under the stairs

All those friends and relations, thoughts and cares

Are sent spinning away, now gathering pace

The box is empty now, leaving no trace

Of the work that went in to the blind, stupid race

And so now displayed for all to view

Like old clothes, skin scarred and bruised

Drifting int he wind then lifeless and still

The broken eggshells of a weak human will

But something remains, and I can still see

A dog chasing magpies over sun soaked fields

All those stark tree branches painted white

And the smell of bonfires, and the warm blue light

And I start to wonder, though nothing seems real

Always in motion, no essence, no being

That shells mutate and new shapes are made

So the power that breaks can also produce

Old dreams like captive slaves turned loose

Memories imperfect hurry along

Slipping in new shoes, treading them down

With hopes made fragile by rough sea

And glimpses of what might almost be

Gazing out the Window

This seat I hold is the product, Of tenacity, privilege and some favoured luck

What rights I have I do not know, But every step is on another’s toe

And so I may return that question to you.

For, after a shaky, nervous start, I had made my way in, was gaining fast

The carriages rocking as picked up speed, Like some great captive bird set free

And the noise and the warmth and the daring led on

The ultimate prize I thought was mine.

And, perhaps, it was during this time, That I neglected the map, and lost the line

Though I don’t remember exactly the day, Easy now to see things going this way

And it seems that I have abused my breaks, Piled vulnerability up in my wake

And this was when I was only trying, To help, to work, to do the right thing.

The truth, I guess, is that no one gave, Me permission to just sit there and gaze

I wonder if I can reprieve, This abuse of trust

And then forwards again we all may thrust.

But, for now, when I turn my head, To that window once a dear old friend

I see only wreckage, hopes betrayed, And innocence staring, wide eyed, afraid.