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Array ( [sid] => 129680 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A Train Ride Out of the American Dream [time] => 2006-12-21 20:57:48 [hometext] => F.W. [bodytext] => “Time is no fine wine,
It grows no better with age.”
That’s what N.a.r.c.h told me as he flipped through a page,
Drinking, reading Ginsberg, sipping rum
I take the train; it’s where I get my reading done

You can hear it, no person can deny.
You can see through a vision mid-day,
As you pass a painting reel of your passenger view
Of the ancient escaping into new

People are good to play fake
And no joke was ever really told.
N.a.r.c.h explained the difference between the cautious and the cold.
When you feel someone never really got you,
It’s usually true

You can hear it, a stir from America.
The wheels keep turning too fast; you’d burn your hand
To catch it in a place where we stop
And clean the mess and find a mop

Peace is called a solution,
But really a break from the fall.
The sun’s come, gone and all,
I’d better write this down right,
Before it must focus in unnatural light

You can hear it in bridges above,
That form countless paths to rooms full of strangers,
So you can sit in a place with a tag on your name
With a trivial purpose or reason you came

“This is a stop to begin.”
N.a.r.c.h grabbed his guitar,
And walked to a car.
I’d of smiled, had I a face,
But I’d packed it in the back of my case

You can hear it, a mechanical laugh.
The death of your dreams, pavement cracks,
Roars of the told, rumbles of a train,
The embrace of love and the stall of your brain.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 262 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )

A Train Ride Out of the American Dream

Contributed by Franciswolf on Thursday, 21st December 2006 @ 08:57:48 PM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

“Time is no fine wine,
It grows no better with age.”
That’s what N.a.r.c.h told me as he flipped through a page,
Drinking, reading Ginsberg, sipping rum
I take the train; it’s where I get my reading done

You can hear it, no person can deny.
You can see through a vision mid-day,
As you pass a painting reel of your passenger view
Of the ancient escaping into new

People are good to play fake
And no joke was ever really told.
N.a.r.c.h explained the difference between the cautious and the cold.
When you feel someone never really got you,
It’s usually true

You can hear it, a stir from America.
The wheels keep turning too fast; you’d burn your hand
To catch it in a place where we stop
And clean the mess and find a mop

Peace is called a solution,
But really a break from the fall.
The sun’s come, gone and all,
I’d better write this down right,
Before it must focus in unnatural light

You can hear it in bridges above,
That form countless paths to rooms full of strangers,
So you can sit in a place with a tag on your name
With a trivial purpose or reason you came

“This is a stop to begin.”
N.a.r.c.h grabbed his guitar,
And walked to a car.
I’d of smiled, had I a face,
But I’d packed it in the back of my case

You can hear it, a mechanical laugh.
The death of your dreams, pavement cracks,
Roars of the told, rumbles of a train,
The embrace of love and the stall of your brain.

Copyright Â© Franciswolf ... [ 2006-12-21 20:57:48]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: A Train Ride Out of the American Dream (User Rating: 1 )
by CuriousitysCat on Wednesday, 10th January 2007 @ 11:42:13 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Very aprapoe to the level society has taken on these days. I feel as though it's truthful but yet had an old kind of wise feeling. Overall it seemed unconventional and I totally dug it.

;]

~Jazz

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