The trains
Don’t run this way
Any more
The man said.
The wagons
Rattling along the track
Shaking the
Passengers.
The sub-human
Five pointed stars
Of society.
It doesn’t matter
If they get no food.
Why?
Aren’t they better?
When they can’t breathe out
anymore.
Can’t pollute us anymore.
So the wagons trudge
Swaying slower
Than the feet
Of marching soldiers
Under
The weight of the bodies
The bodies.
And the sub-humans
Eat their shoes
To survive
Until there aren’t any shoes
Anymore.
And the track doesn’t
End. The track doesn’t
End until they reach the point
Where they cannot
Take any
More.
That wagon.
Followed by another
And another.
Until they tip out the dead.
The unconscious
In a ditch at the side of
The track.
The end of their
Journey.
Their tracks.
And the wagon carries on
Carrying the sub-humans
That by witchery
Are still alive.
The jaded stars peeling on
Their faded jackets.
But the wagons don’t stop
Until. Until they arrive
At the destination.
And it is the end
Of the road anyway.
For the few.
The trains don’t run this way anymore.
The man said.
Don’t run this way
Any more
The man said.
The wagons
Rattling along the track
Shaking the
Passengers.
The sub-human
Five pointed stars
Of society.
It doesn’t matter
If they get no food.
Why?
Aren’t they better?
When they can’t breathe out
anymore.
Can’t pollute us anymore.
So the wagons trudge
Swaying slower
Than the feet
Of marching soldiers
Under
The weight of the bodies
The bodies.
And the sub-humans
Eat their shoes
To survive
Until there aren’t any shoes
Anymore.
And the track doesn’t
End. The track doesn’t
End until they reach the point
Where they cannot
Take any
More.
That wagon.
Followed by another
And another.
Until they tip out the dead.
The unconscious
In a ditch at the side of
The track.
The end of their
Journey.
Their tracks.
And the wagon carries on
Carrying the sub-humans
That by witchery
Are still alive.
The jaded stars peeling on
Their faded jackets.
But the wagons don’t stop
Until. Until they arrive
At the destination.
And it is the end
Of the road anyway.
For the few.
The trains don’t run this way anymore.
The man said.
Author notes
My attempt to incorporate the historical events of the holocaust, which saw thousands of jews transported by wagon, with the idea of a track with no ending. Not the most cheerful poem, but something important
In a list
A contest entry
- Blame it on society. by abyssal.
475 points, ended May 10, 2008, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Train of Thought by Rowan.
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Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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this really is an amazing write Wow! you have an amazing talent for someone so young...I dont know what else to say except that this is a fantastic piece you should be proud of it


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Wow I really really really love this poem. The imagery is good, concrete but not preachy. I like how you use language to show. The atmosphere in this poem is very well created and I could tell there was a state of total desolation, hopelessness, and loss of dignity. I also could find more to this than just a reminder about the Holocaust, although the primary message which you meant is by far the most important. Thanks for sharing.
~Diana

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Powerful. The short lines keep it flowing well. The fifth stanza is extremely powerful, as is the repition of bodies in the fourth. Thanks a lot for your entry.
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thank goodness that train was permanently de-railed.
A very dark write, for a very dark time.
Thanks for entering this.


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Great poetry

This is a lazy comment, I'm drunk


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So I just have to say amazing job integrating the Holocaust into this poem because that is what I thought of before reading the author's note.
Thank-you for the entry.
1 - 6 of 6




