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Lovers of tubes

Lover of tubes

He sat cross legged his long fingers
drawing conclusions from paper and ink,
meandering in thoughts well written by
people he will never meet. She on the other
hand knew of these people but would never
say, all she would be in his eyes was sweet.

This train to them was just here, an
instrument of fast movements from one
place to another, he and she would have
avoided this journey if possible, on a tube
or vessel of travel they would never have
given up their time to, but then again they
never made decisions of steerage.

What life is given so carelessly to wanton
greed, both thought they were lovers but
never missed a day from their master’s side,
mornings were given over in haste, never
would they feel the rush of a lost weekend
two against the traffic under sheets un washed,
smelling of lipstick, semen, wine, pure
beings having Monday’s on sick note lust

She thought about that boy who had brushed
past so gently at the lift with a smile so carelessly
thrown, apology so husky in sound, a fleck of
pastry and innocence hung from each word.
She had the feeling he ate breakfast now at
this moment across the table from a rare beauty who
had also noticed his lips curl into that special grin
she would have to be rare to hold his heart with
surgical hands to wander.

But determined they were in their pursuit, they
would have an abode of their own in three times five
years or so, gained by the sweat of mind and brow this
was city love soon they’d be high fifing it up streets
of gold when their ship or golden cow came in, if the
streets had enough room for their ship to be declared
clear for launch, and it had no people flood in the
meantime.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Observation and imagination..
Editing stage: 

Comments

but felt a train collision between some of them. Especially first and second. I am sure it was your intention to disrupt the potential intimacy of the first, but perhaps it didn't need a whole verse? One line of technology can disrupt a sonnet. That could question the whole stucture, of course.

Also, here is me being thick. Every poem has a moral intent, conscious or not. I wasn't sure if you wanted them to have an intense affair with a few sick mondays or wanted them to aim for the picket fence.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

Collision that's the perfect word, i saw this couple and my mind automatically assumed their type. Probably wrong but never the less it was made that they were young bankers, buisiness people. All because he read a certain paper and she a magazine of that paper. Well then as we know imagination takes over and collision is what i believed their life needed. A spark , a change from work and goals if that was an affair as you believed i meant then i think i have succeeded. My poem was written as a mix up, a clutter no order like i thought their life had to much of. Thank you for commenting and i think i got what you mean about one line and will try a different tac with this poem. Thank you, Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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