I long for solitude, perhaps in a quiet room far away
Apart from this noise, modern life so loud
A mobile conversation jarringly obtrusive
Music player set louder,
Drowning out your shouted replies
A child kicks my chair on this train
Railing and screaming, hauling me back into this world

I long for momentary deafness
Buffering my soul, against this constant clamour
A businessman jabbers to his colleague
Overheard, it’s nothing which can’t wait until tomorrow
My music though lovely, fragments my concentration,
From written words, unlike prose, poetry demands closer examination -
To poke amongst layers of meaning , to rip it apart ,then reassemble
I spit upon your memory, your words even, by not paying attention

I long to lock myself in my bathroom
Somewhere to immerse myself in tranquillity, soak in the serenity
Somewhere to scribble these words furiously, to contemplate
I wonder if the lyrics of these listened songs muddle my creativity
If by musical osmosis they taint my originality
Give other implication than what they were supposed to
Do they belong to me or do they now just reflect the artist?
An unspoken partnership, One I didn’t wish for…

I long to be in that reception-less vineyard again
Deep within the countryside, Away from electronic civilisation
A group of teenagers board this train
Brashly loud, they crow and caw vociferously in heated conversations
A game, trying to surpass each other through volume
They squawk vapidly, Things of non-importance
‘She did this’, ‘He did that’, ‘Never!’, ‘Whatever!’

I long to be away from this place, somewhere still
Instead I’m trapped here, amongst other anesthetized people
Caged-like animals, docile in our man-made captivity
Browbeaten and defeated by modern life
I turn to watch the countryside flit by fatalistically
Hopes dashed, a droning announcement, something muffled
Damn, my stop is a half an hour away