http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
The
original version of today’s poem was written in 1983 and first published in
2001; it has been recently revised. True to say, it was inspired by reflection
upon too many bad choices I have made
throughout my life. The trick, I (eventually) discovered, is not to let them
obscure our better choices.
No one
needs to get high on drugs to feel the adrenalin racing through the body like
an express train.
All we
need to do is pause now and then to reflect upon our innermost responses to what
is invariably a roller-coaster ride through life. Now, sometimes these may well
be found wanting, inhibited even by home, school, environment, culture,
religion…etc. In which case we may well need to find a way of letting go,
following up basic instincts independent of whatever programs may have been
installed in head and heart by various software programs delivered by home,
school, environment, culture, religion…etc.
Oh, yes,
and then what?
Ah, but that’s all part of the rollercoaster,
recognizing choices and trying at
least to make the right ones; the right ones for us, that is, since we are all
different, want different things from life, and need to make our own decisions on how best to develop our
potential for the greater good as well as our own. Too often, well-meaning people
may try to steer us in another direction/ So how to know if they are right and
we are wrong?
We have
only to think about what we really want
from life to feel the adrenaline coursing through our veins…and catch that
express train wherever it takes us .. if we dare.
Our
choice…
I-M-A-G-I-N-A-T-I-O-N, THRILLS AND SPILLS
I hear
the engine, engine
closing
on me, felt its pulse racing
against
mine and see it pass,
speeding
furiously against the clock
(ticks in
the brain);
gone now,
yet trailing
a fudge
of half-forgotten moments
that rage
me still;
engine throbbing, oh, but so madly
against my will…
I see the
wheels, wheels
rumbling
me, can feel their firings
ghost me
as they pass
(like
raging clocks) ticking me,
winding
me up;
gone now,
a maze
of
half-forgiven moments shimmering
and
crazing me still…
wheels, wheels, wheels, screaming
against my will
I ride
the engine, the engine
pulsing
me, share its race against time;
signals
blurring, half doubts
stoking
up faster, faster, faster…
scattering
apes from the track,
tearing pretty
rhetoric off a poet’s back;
whatever
passes for a soul
all but
out of control while feeling
for
brakes though not even sure
where it’s
at or going
Oh, the
thrill of giving imagination
its head...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2013
[Note: An
earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Trainspotting' in Love and
Human Remains by R. N. Taber,
Assembly Books 2000]
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