On The Train

Something I began a while ago and just finished.

ON THE TRAIN

 

Intro:

1) "To be or not to be. That is the question."

�" Shakespeare, from "Hamlet"

 

2) "There is but one philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Whether or not the world has 3 dimensions or the mind 9 or 12 categories, comes afterward."

�" Albert Camus, from "The Myth of Sisyphus"

 

3) "Yes, I thought. You can ponder this or analyze that til the cows come home, but the real question is whether all your pondering and analysis will convince you that life is worth living."

�" Brian Greene, from "The Fabric of the Cosmos"

 

4) " Now when you come up against the great gulf that often, and even generally, exists between the conditions and suffering of the masses of people, on the one hand, and what you are able to do about that at any given point - when you run up against that repeatedly, everyone feels a definite pull which expresses itself in moral terms: how can you stand by and not do something about what’s happening to the masses of people?

�" Bob Avakian, from "BAsics"

__________________

　

On the train to Florida,

world music colors the air

with Mexico, Ireland, India,

the Middle East and Africa.

Colors-rich, primeval,

nothing pastel,

and it’s hard to sit still,

hold my peace

while these rhythms paint

the pulse of my body.

As the train moves further South,

I can feel the sticky humidity

of jungles fragrant with bougainvillea,

and bromeliades dangle

from every note of Les Nubian.

Talking Drums answer in response.

While trumpets call out

staccato style,

hot with salsa,

a reflection of my uneasy mind

wondering what I will find.

***

Visiting my folks is a joy,

but these last few trips

have also brought

lots of struggle and pain.

They are getting on in life,

still living, but now

mostly dying.

How do you write about

life and death?

And in particular,

Dad’s worries about ‘family trees’

and the fact that we are the last.

***

How do you write about dying?

Could I write a poem

the way Mozart wrote his "Requiem";

feverish, delusional

yet his notes flowed from his fingers

like a tempest brewing

in an open flame.

While my words are shards,

splintered in millions

trying to explain a different view

on our finite lives.

***

"Have a nice trip home", they said.

" Ok, love you mom,

love you dad", I reply.

And as the train pulls off,

and I wave goodbye,

I worry about them.

***

As the train heads North

and listen to these different songs,

I reflect on our conversations

and think:

Within the swirl of colors and words,

stirred and mixed musically,

we raise our questions,

speak our art

and tell our stories.

There have been many.

Countless, like endless grains of sand

washed ashore in the cosmos.

But what happens when they end?

What if a story winks out

like a dying sun losing its light

as it becomes a black hole.

Then what?

Will there ever be another?

A continuance

or something new?

Extinction is final -

it’s a m**********r.

***

Dad, you say that it matters,

that this family name

has reached its last branch.

But why?

Humanity will go on.

What is in a name anyway?

And how did it come about, our name?

But more, what have we done?

Yes, we existed.

We loved, fought and died.

We played, married,

raised family and did what we thought right.

But have we disturbed the universe;

made waves in the ocean’s tide?

More importantly,

did we live and die for the people;

sacrifice all just to make the leaps

to change the world?

Here is an infinite truth:

billions have come and gone

now lost to history;

billions more will do the same.

Our lives are finite,

yet change and matter,

in one form or another

is infinite.

In this ever changing world,

have we strained to the limits

to touch matter,

affect its taste;

attempted to move its direction

in the service of human kind?

Or, have we simply gone along with the way things are?

Have we made a difference?

Have we really lived?

And isn’t this the only truly philosophical problem!

______________________________

Conclusion: Further thoughts:

 

1) "But it is only through fearless engagement that we can learn our own limits. It’s only through the rational pursuit of theories, even those that whisk us into strange and unfamiliar domains, that we stand a chance of revealing the expanse of reality."

�" Brian Greene, from "Hidden Reality"

 

2) "Your life is going to be about something - or it’s going to be about nothing. And there is nothing greater your life can be about that contributing whatever you can to the revolutionary transformation of society and the world, to put an end to all systems and relations of oppression and exploitation and all unnecessary suffering and destruction that goes along with them."

�"Bob Avakian, from "BAsics"

 

~~~redzone 7/31/13 (began 2/12/12)

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Curt... there have been people in my
life... who have taken their life.. mostly because
they were in physical pain and/or emotional pain.
I do not judge them. So far, I have never considered
suicide... and poetry is definitely a venue to express your
feelings, and release the tension over time.
Life is precious and divine for many people. truly, Pat

[New Beginings]

You are right it is hard to write about suicide. sadly though it has been happening quite often lately and it's because of the hate that goes around in our world.

This poem looks like it took time, It looks complicated, It contains many parts which can make it hard to read for a beginner like me. I like how you compare music to each part of the world you travel on the way to vist your parents. I hope I am right that that's what you were trying to get at.

Good Job.

[redzone]

life is complicated and complex, so is a poem...
this poem is about what our lives are worth... what does it mean to be alive... is life actually worth living... philosophers for thousands of years have debated these questions and in a small way are summarized in the first four quotes in the poem...

I tried to answer these questions in the poem and yes there are several parts to it... one is the train ride down to see my folks, the other is a hint at the conversations we had (especially with my dad) over family and family trees... and finally my thoughts on what life is worth and why it is worth living and why what we do with our lives matters, both in terms of family, but also in broader ways, people around us and people as a whole...

you are right about suicide happening more often and the reasons for it... and while I do understand why it happens, it saddens me that so many do not see their true value and how to change the conditions they are in...

thank you for reading this poem New B. and for the insights you have into it...

ps: the music is just a way to show how the world we live in is diverse and wonderful, how the music of the world makes us want to dance... and part of its beauty...

[barleygirl]

I love the whole "train ride" motif as a way to carry along an endless line of cars, chock full of pondering & ponderous implications. I love the beginning quotes that deal with suicide, since it seems to be happening at a frightening pace around me these days. I love the opening of the poem as it deals with blending of cultures, especially in our current political climate of embracing or rejecting our differences.

I love the idea of visiting mom & dad, something I've never done in my adult life, so it's enlightening to walk a mile in the shoes of someone who might do / might have done this (or cared about doing it). Also, thinking about family lineage, which has never mattered to me, but which matters to lots of people. Most of all, I feel synchronicity in the thoughts about living & dying & whether we matter or make a difference, what does it all mean?

Last but not least, I'm really glad I'm not inside your head becuz there's a whole lot going on in there. Your message makes me thankful for my simpleton country ways of thinking & writing. It would be hard to sort out a focused message, if all this was going around inside my head. I don't know how you do it! (((HUGS)))

Even tho I don't much care about the extinction of humans (we are very overrated by our own estimations) . . . I do very much care about extinction of other creatures by our hands, so this line really speaks to me & I love the rawness of it: "Extinction is final - it’s a m**********r."

[redzone]

I love your review Margie... I definitely love how this poem turned out, but since there were different levels of thoughts in my mind it took me a while to work all the way through it... the points you made were/are the different threads that make up a life and what a life is worth and worth living.. in many ways life is like a single cord with many strands woven through it and twisted to make one... in this single life, how it is lived and dies matters a great deal.

usually when I visit my folks I listen to music as I travel whether by car or train or air and I love listening to all kinds of music from different parts of the world. I tried to use this as metaphor for how this kind of strand influences you and as a way of expressing how rich a life is that embraces different cultural expressions as well as different nationalities of peoples (races) and ties in together that where you come from or what your last name is is not as important, has less meaning than how you live your life. My dad did not agree with this outlook and was lamenting the loss of our family tree.

and yes extinction is a m**********r, not so much as in a name but in the extinction of human life from this planet and again returns us to how we live our lives... the truth is this planet and different forms of life existed long before human beings and will continue to exist long after human beings have vanished, the question (and here is a suicide point) will this vanishing be due to our own refusal to change the way we interact with our surrounds or just continue to poison the planet and hasten our extinction??? we are collectively committing suicide by not changing all this and allowing this system to continue going on as it is... "to be or not to be"...

I am so glad you read this poem Margie and more shared some of your thoughts on its meaning.. the way you live your life may not be cluttered with all the perks and whistles of the cities (as well as death and violence), but it is far from a simpleton life, as it is filled with an understanding of things city people rarely know and experience (even those who may live close to you for a few months in the year... how many people can claim to be serenaded by tree frogs looking for love?? a loud noisy bunch that even gives the fur girls shivers... lol

so Margie, welcome to the inner workings of my mind... hehehe

[barleygirl]

I am even more stunned (now) by the phrase (in your response): "collective suicide" . . . that is such a brilliant way to explain this madness that's seized the human race more & more as time goes on. I know all about suicidal tendencies . . . some day I'll get up the courage to write about that. I really enjoy your complex way of looking at the world & life & family.

[Lyn Anderson]

And because Ana did, I did too. I love this, the depth and breadth of it. besides, a lot of good thoughts happen on a train.

[redzone]

Thanks KL, on this train, many thoughts... it's a long way from NYC to S. Fla (25 hours by train) so lots of time to think....

[Papaya]

Well I am very glad I reached far back to read this one. It was super.
The questions we ask and all seek, they will come in death. But if death is truly game over, we will have our answer without being able to enjoy our answer. Shoot, now I want to write a poem just about that! This was truly marvellous. What is in a name? Nothing. My name has changed but it has not changed who I am. Only who I thought I was. But that is my own opinion because I am not one to get attached to things like that. For others, a name is their whole history and pride. What is in a name depends only on how you feel about it. Father put pressure on children to carry the name, but all things live and die eventually.

(Except for the Smiths. They'll live forever.) :)

[redzone]

I think there will always be "Smiths"... but if yyou mean the musical group "Smiths" hell yes they will live forever, s**t, I will make sure of it!! er... well I am also hopeful of living forever..;0)

this was a hard poem for me to write as you can see from when began and when ended... I really like that you did go back to read this poem as it also happens to be one of the poems I really like... so bowing to you and big thanks...

[Papaya]

twas my pleasure. :)

[Pryde Foltz]

How do you write about dying?
Could I write a poem
the way Mozart wrote his "Requiem";
feverish, delusional
yet his notes flowed from his fingers
like a tempest brewing
in an open flame.
While my words are shards,
splintered in millions
trying to explain a different view
on our finite lives.

I had to dig to find this jewel but I am very glad I did. A superb narrative poem with just the right amount of poetic and symbolic flourish. Bravo.

[redzone]

I thought I heard someone rooting around in the attic Pryde. Glad you found a poem that rewarded your quest. Thanks for your words and your time. You turned the lights out up there I hope... ;0)

When I become less busy I will wonder in your words, actually listen to you read... I am sure the adventure will be well worth it...
~~redzone

[Tam Warink]

This smacks of a mind's journey just beginning. But I could be mistaken... probably am. However, I think it's good that you have at least established a metric with which it may be considered. I always like to read a writer's first contributions here. Sometimes it's just a "mic check" but other times, like this, there a real passion for saying something worthwhile; something worth sharing. I think you've done that here.

[MsJewel]

I read this a few times and will definitely read it a few more. There is so much expressed here - and I enjoyed the conversation like style you wrote in - When you spoke of your dad and family trees - I have to admit - I had tears in my eyes remembering how important this was to my father and how he was so worried about "reaching the last branch" as you so eloquently put it. And here I am, my friend, reading your poem, sitting on the last branch and wondering like you - have we lived, Have we made a difference?...I'd like to think so. Hugs, Julie