Ghost on the track

Ghost on the track is a epic poem by far that alas is incomplete.

I may complete this someday wrote in 2000, and has had bits done
on it ever since in a attempt to write a poetry novel.

(I)

On a deserted railway yard

Between Warwick

And Leamington Spa

I wandered desolate

Through an old graveyard

Until I stopped

Near a boarded up

Old tunnel.

In the graveyard

There had being

Stillness in the air

That was

Un-nerving

As a long pause

For breath

As quietness.

The grass on the floor

Was covered in

Muddy footprints

As was the pavement

Stones

Which gave the impression

Somebody had run

Away too quickly.

But yet in the stillness

There was a delicate beauty

In the quietness

As I wandered

To the remembrance room

Which reminded me

Of one of my friends

Which had died the other year.

James had been a typical

Old school sort of gentleman

Who wouldn’t boo

To a goose

But had

A sense of humor

Beneath his mild manners.

I could remember

Some people

Dismissing him as a country bumpkin

In the way

He would laugh

In such a way

It made him

Sound stupid

But I knew better.

I had seen him

Sit there

And discuss politics

Better than most

Politicians

And then compare

Pints of ale

With the best of them.

I would rather forget

About the way he died.

As I left

The remembrance room

I could see a piece

Of paper

That was covered

In mud

And as I bent down

To pick it up

To bin it,

I saw her.

She was a graceful

Young woman

With a flower in her hair

And a long

Blue dress

Which highlighted

Her dancing even more.

I stood there

For a few moments

And watched her dance

Like she was a ballerina

Straight

Across the flowers

And towards an old tunnel.

I moved forwards

My feet almost

Without a will of their own

And I felt the wind

Try and drag

Me back but I found

Myself

Pushing forward

Literally if they didn’t

Have a mind

Of their own.

The entrance was half boarded up

In rotten wood

Which was covered in garaffi

Which must have being

Written in the 1970’s

And rust covered locks

Which threatened to disintegrate

If you touched them.

But I easily got through that.

Inside the tunnel

I could see

A faint light

Flickering in and out

Of the darkness

On a path between the lines

Which reminded me of a candle

At the end of its wax.

The wind was nagging

In my ear

Like an ex girlfriend

And I found myself imagining

What life would have

Being like an old train carriage

I could see halfway

Blanked layered

Down the tunnel.

Next to the carriage

I could see another

Boarded up door

With the words

‘Keep Out’ missing the K

And much to my surprise

I could not stop myself staring into it. 

‘Stop’

A voice whispered

With a slight echo

In my ear just as I

Was about to

Start thinking about

What I was going

To do next.

‘What?’

I said surprised

Turning round

The hair standing up

On my head

But I couldn’t see anybody,

So I started pulling it down

Automatically.

It had started raining

By that point

And I could hear it

Tapping on the floor

Just outside the tunnel

Like footsteps

Mixed with the wind

Which then pushed me

Onto the floor

With a gust.

‘Run’

A distorted voice

Called out

From the carriage

So distorted

It reminded me of something

Out of a fuzzy tape deck,

And as I

Pulled myself

Back onto my feet

I felt a shiver

Which was more like

A warning

Than an actual shiver.

‘Don’t’

A different voice called out again

The echo shaking

The tunnel

Which

Blinded me

With the

Flash

And made me

Want to hold

My ears in terror. 

And I could

Feel the wind

Spiraling around me

Which pushed

Me straight

Across the wall

Which made

Me cry

Out in mortal agony.

And then I saw her.

I saw her

Standing against the wall

With eyes

That looked like

Fireballs

Which stood out

Curiously against her

Long, curly hair

And blue dress.

‘How dare you?’

She shouted out,

The you

Trailing off

Into the distance

‘How dare you?’

I tried opening

My eyes,

But the light

Dazzled

Me

And nearly

Made me

Want to vomit.

I felt tears

Drip down

My face

Which merged

With the sweat falling

Out of my hair

And eventually I called out

‘I DON’T, I DON’T

UNDERSTAND YOU’

And she stepped

Up to me

Out of nowhere

And brushed

The tears from my eyes

Like a condensing

Parent

And said

‘Now what should

I do with you?’

‘I don’t know

Who you are?’

I answered

Repeating myself

‘I don’t know

Who you are’.

And she reached

Out and

Placed her hand

Around my throat

And I felt

My guts

Sink into my

Stomach

And I heard her laugh

As the wind dropped.

‘Andrew’ I heard

The first voice

Call inside my

Head

And I tried

To answer

But my mouth

Would not

Open

And she

Smashed me

Back across the wall.

I screamed

And she laughed again

‘I defy you,

I defy you’

And smashed

Me against

The wall again

Like a bloody Yo Yo

Before carrying on

‘You have no right,

You have no right’

‘He has every right’

Another voice

Called out

A deeper voice

Which further away

But then I realized

Much to my horror

Was coming out

Of my own mouth.

I saw the shock

In her eye

Which seemed to lose

Some of its cruelty

And she fell

Back to the ground

Before curling

Up

Into a ball.

And I hit the floor

Like a ton

Of bricks.

The next thing

I knew

I woke up

On the ground

With soil

All over my coat

And as I got onto my feet

I also felt

Dirt all over my hair.

It had stopped raining outside.

Ghost on the track

(II)

It had stopped raining outside.

It had stopped raining outside.

It had stopped raining outside.

It had stopped dripping

On the tunnel

With a gentle thud.

It had stopped dripping

On the floor

And the sun was no

Longer

Hiding behind the clouds.

I must have stood there

For a good few minutes

Panting

Like I was a man

At least 20 to 30 years older

Than I was

Before

I had the

Strength

To walk down

The tunnel.

I felt my heart

Go a frantic

Drum beat

And I felt my eyesight

Start going

Blurred

With shades of

Green and grey

Which literally

Made me feel

I was walking

Into a motet painting

And I literally fell

Over the fence.

I don’t know how long

I was unconscious for.

The first thing
I knew was when

I awoke

And
I felt something gentle

Brush up and down

My nose

Which then next

Touched my right ear

Before then

Moving onto

My left ear.

The sensation was

Bizarre

And for the first

Few seconds

I couldn’t work

Out

Where it was coming

From

As it kept reminding

Me of childbirth

In the sense

Of the helplessness

Of the feeling

You could try and

Reach out

But you couldn’t

Reach

Anybody

And then I

Opened my eyes

And I saw

Myself staring

Into the eyes

Of a Old English sheepdog

Who were stood there

Licking my face

Like a kid

In a sweet

Shop.

By the time

I had pulled myself

Back onto my feet

It’s owner,

A middle-aged guy

With a layer

Of red hair

Around his head

Like somebody

Had cut it

With a howl

Onto his head

And a jacket

Which immediately

Reminded me as he

Was a farmer…

Or some kind of landowner

Had reached me.

‘Hang on, old boy’

He said

‘You’ve took a right

whack’

and he caught me

before I fell

back to the ground

with another loud

thud.

‘Bloody hell’

He said to me

With a urgency

In his voice

That bordered

On panic

Rather than

Just urgency

And he propped

Me up back

Onto my feet

So I sat back

Down next to

The lake.

My head was

Spinning

All over the

Place

By this point

Again

And I thought to

Myself

By this point

I had concussion

And as I reached

Down

To steady myself

I felt my left ankle

Go

And I knew then

I had twisted

That also.

But it was then

As I looked down

I saw I was

Wearing black sandals

With dreadful

Multi colored socks

That may have being

Fashionable

Well, fashionable

Maybe once

In the 1960’s

But would have

Looked beyond horrible

Now.

It was then I looked at

My reflection in the lake.

I was still crying

Ten minutes later.

And in the distance,

I could hear laughter.

Something

Inhuman.

Inhuman laughter.

Something that would have

Sent a shiver,

Down my back

If I hadn’t

Been crying like

A

Fool.

Something that

Would have made

Even the bravest

of heroes

curl up into a bowl

but I didn’t listen

if I hadn’t

been crying

like a fool.

Something that would

Have sounded

Surreal

Or simply unbelievable

If I hadn’t

Been crying

Like a fool.

For I didn’t

Recognize who

Was staring

Back at me

In the reflection.

(III)

The laughter

In the background

Built up rapidly

In a handful of seconds

Like somebody

Had

Turned up

The volume

On a stereo system

Without stopping.

The laughter

Leveled the grass

Leaving it shaking

In fear

And shook

The

Windows

In the rememberence room

So hard I thought

They were going

To fall out.

Trees were knocked

Sidewise

Like a insiviable

Gaint

Was storming past

Them

And kicking

Them out of their way.

‘Bloody hell’

The farmer said

Patting his

Dog on his head

As the poor thing

Fell to the ground

Covering it’s ear

In terror.

I tried to get up

Onto my feet

But felt my ankle go

When I tried

To stand up

Like somebody

Had pulled

My ankle

From under

Me.

When I looked

Up

James was stood

There

Chatting to the

Farmer

But a strangely healthy

Looking James

With a tweed jacket

And muddy wellies

That knocked

Off

At least twenty years

Off him.

‘James’

I mouthed shocked

But he looked at

Me

Surprised

As if he didn’t

Have

A clue

What I was

Talking about

And answered

‘I’m sorry,

do I know you?’