The driverless movement

driverless trains are becoming more prevalent
they can roam about wherever they want
taking passengers to surprise destinations
commuter trains are bored with city routes
they head for the coast when driverless
pulling up next to a beach
maybe dipping a wheel into the surf
even trains like to paddle in the sea
they stay all morning while the sand blows
the passengers get to eat sand encrusted sandwiches
they all have a great excuse for not showing up to work
sorry my driverless train took a wrong turning
and did not stop for 87 miles
the driverless train takes them back home that evening
a bored housewives asks how was your day in the office
her husband answers it just the same old routine
as he empties a mountain of sand from his salt stained shoes
long lines form at the train station every morning
nobody wants to get on a train with a driver
lest it should take them directly to the office
drivers ride empty trains into the city
as the overloaded driverless trains go on mystery tours sometimes they stay somewhere overnight while the passengers party, cheep booze and pizza is passed around
the train gets too drunk to drive itself back
retuning the next morning with a huge hangover
other trains with drivers get jealous and want to join in the fun they put in transfer requests to become driverless eventually all trains become driverless
sad unemployed drivers watch their old trains happy speeding by driverless buses soon join the movement
governments topple as the people demand driverless nations

The mountain train

The eagle soars over the mountain on a gloomy winter day

searching for prey below the cloudy skies

oblivious of the huge scar in the natural landscape 

railroad tracks carved across the mountain

drab industrial buildings huddled near the tracks

the mountain is quiet and peaceful

but in years gone by it was a scene of frantic activity

teams of hard working men cutting down trees

dynamite explosions blasting away rocks

men and mules clearing debris for the future railroad

nature’s beauty now lives in forced harmony with the iron roadway

a monument to the sweat and toil of forgotten men

mother earth has long forgiven the pain of construction

she reluctantly lets mankind pillage her resources to make iron horses

and cringes when her carbon reserves are stolen to fuel the smokey beasts

a whistle breaks the silence of the dark mountain air

distant rumbling draws steadily closer and closer

the magnificent metal monster meanders up the mountainside

hissing steam billowing smoke and grinding wheels

a grease stained engineer is the only sign of human activity

the ground shakes as the train approaches

animals flee its noisy path

the air is filled with smoke, soot and steam

the iron horse roars with abandon

clattering cabooses carrying hobos cling to the monster’s tail

the noise and vibration both seem eternal

but slowly fade as the mountain train pushes on into the distance

silence returns as the eagle soars overhead

the earth breathes a sigh of relief

nature gracefully recaptures the mountain

I love trains

there is something special about train travel

tracks make your route somewhat predictable

arrival is mostly unaffected by weather

the bumps in the track are hypnotic

the world seems different when viewed from a train

scenery flashes by like a silent movie

outside sounds are muted

its your own private low flying cocoon

steam trains are so romantic

monuments to the past

fire breathing smokey monsters

driven by grease stained men

electric trains hum

like a jammed sewing machine motor

occasionally emitting sparks

as a reminder of the unseen power source

drinking hot tea is a circus balancing feat

when the train is lurching along

would you like milk with that

says the very tired but still smiling attendant

however hard you try to appear really cool

your walk along the moving train

mimics the stagger of a drunken sailor 

as you are involuntarily thrown against startled seated passengers

on board announcements can always be heard

but never truly understood

they are spoken in a special secret train language

forcing you to ask strangers what was just said 

new friendships are formed

the age romance is not dead

you can really get to know people on a train

with the knowledge that you will never meet them again

Riding the TransPennine Express Train

Cloudy skies loom over the English countryside

Green fields and tiny houses with well trimmed gardens

The train is packed with commuters

Everybody is glued to a smartphone

Annoying Rap music escapes from headphones but nobody says a word

Brits love to suffer in silence with a stiff upper lip

Vandals leave their mark with colorful graffiti on bridges

A stark contrast to the dark stone aged by centuries of pollution

We are riding the TransPennine Express

Mighty steam trains first conquered this route

No billowing smoke and steam from today’s silent electric trains 

The smell of soot replaced by the bitter aroma of hot brake linings

Tired white faces fill the platform at Wigan North Western station 

Patiently waiting to be swallowed by the electric propelled tube

Going home after a long boring day at work

We pull out and pass a cricket field with manicured turf awaiting the white suited players.

They always stop playing at 4pm for tea and cucumber sandwiches

England is so civilized 

The train picks up speed towards Preston

The hills of the Pennines gently roll by 

Train commuters oblivious to the moving canvas of breathtaking scenery

Green fields surround the tracks but the wind swept hill tops are bare

The train carves a path through the once thriving industrial heartland of England

Cotton weaving mills are mostly gone or converted to trendy apartments 

The coal mines closed after Prime Minister Thatcher crushed the industry

Shopping malls replaced factories

Wind turbines fill skies once littered with mill chimneys 

Tourism has outstripped manufacturing industry

Sleepy villages become overloaded with summertime visitors  

White collars outnumber blue collar workers 

The train parallels the A6 road to Scotland

Once a stagecoach route slowly taking passengers by horse

Now congested with BMWs and Range Rovers

Our train pulls into the historic city of Lancaster

Born from a Roman camp on the banks of the river Lune

The ghost riders of forgotten steam trains don’t recognize the changed lands of jolly old England

The red wine internet express

The Virgin train bound for Glasgow

Pulls out of London’s Euston station

It’s the day after the London Marathon

The train is packed 

Luckily we had reserved seats 

Passengers carrying marathon memorabilia 

The spectators are mostly fat and middle aged

Young thin men in sweat pants are obvious participants

Returning home to resume their routine life

After their 3 hours and 22 minutes of fame

What stories will they tell back at work tomorrow?

Perhaps all has been said via social media

Aching muscles twitched all over twitter

Tired faces painted all over FaceBook

Crossing the finishing line in an instant instagram

Hardly any spoken conversation on the train

Thumbs are stabbing away on phones

Digits digitizing details to distant dudes

High speed internet on a high speed train

The passengers are just captive internet traffickers

“Would ye like a drank”

Said the lady hostess in a broad Glaswegian accent

Stunned passengers looked up from their phones

Rudely woken from the silence of cyberspace

“Red wine please” was the unanimous response

Internet surfers refueled with alcohol

As the train speeds relentlessly north

The buildings of the city soon replaced by cultivated fields

Rape seed crops rape your eyes with bright yellow

Do the farmers wear sunglasses I wonder

The digital marathon internet warriors started to fade

Maybe they still surf while napping

Brains wired to Bluetooth transmitters

Redundant thumbs unused

Future generations will be limbless

Marathons will all have virtual runners

Spectators will be bathed in virtual reality at home

No need to travel to any events

Trains will sit in rusty graveyards

Retired Glaswegian hostesses will drink red wine at home