Pathetic Progress

There's much too much to be done
For this train to be stalled
By inexplicable tardiness
Or overriding safety concerns

There's much too much to be done
At the termination of this journey
For minor delays, beyond control,
Of impatient passengers

There's much too much to be done
Before the day dies, as it must
But the same can't be said for
Demands that push on

Autumn never calls

Autumn never announces itself
No courtesy call just to say
'I will be there tomorrow'

Suddenly leaves are brown
Brown and dying, strewn
Across indifferent concrete ground

When schoolkids kick through
The debris of the season
To inattentive seats in lessons

When budding scholars stumble
Through freshers week floors
To gawp at dances of seduction

When workers sip in morning
Mists that accompany commutes
That siphon the days away

When retirees recline on
Benches they know will
Soon become icy thrones

We can only ruminate on
Youth once we have
Left it behind

Saturday Morning 1am

Shadows of trees in the park
Empty trains sit on the bridge
The optimism in the dark
Will it remain by morning

The week passed, time again
For a thorough Sunday clean
The grease blots and stains
That grow as the years go

The flow of the water never
Thinks about its direction
The tinkling of piano keys
Never doubts its complexion

Dusk

A violent orange to end the day
The sky can sure be very pretty
The men aren't looking up though
They have their own worries

A streetlight that acts as a candle
In the great dark cave of the city
I wonder what dreams are realised
And what dreams are still on hold

A weekend in the quietest company
Your inner self sure can be quiet
Courage is required to examine the soul
And I'm lacking courage tonight

Him and Her

He just wanted options
He lives his life like the early 20s
And doesn't put the right number
Of birthday candles on

He sometimes enjoys summer
When nobody else is having fun
He needs to feel like that
He is the only one around

She still thinks of cities faraway
She still wants to walk streets
Where the shops are strange
And the salesmen incomprehensible

She likes the rotting leaves
For their smell and their colour
But she is mindful of the fact
That she needs more jumpers

It's a shame they never taught
You how to live your life
We all walk home after work
Exhausted from delaying plans

Wanderer

Dents in your bumper you
Couldn't afford to fix
Just keep driving til you
Find a place that sticks

If only the streetlights could
Shield your guilty face
If only the rain could erase
What had taken place



Grown up, now I can walk
The night alone
Sometimes I hate it, sometimes
I'm happy on my own

If only dreams do go on
To become real
Shining bright and white, not
Things darkness steals

Were you born and destined
To sit and write
In an age where so few still
Stand and fight

Plain

It's plain now
The more I gave
The deeper I sank

I can't figure out
In my head just why
I couldn't have lied

You had your dreams
And my only dream
Revolved around you

When the trains roll
Out of my eyeline
I'm on my own again