kidattypewriter

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Epyotr

(This is a true story! Hope you're all having a great long weekend.)

I live in a flat near St Georges Road –
A nice little place; a humble abode;
The neighbours are friendly, the rent isn’t dear:
The shops are quite close, and the transport is near -
So cosily comfortably calming and quiet -
But did I say quiet? The place is a RIOT,
With –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


- by night and by day and by day and by night,
And

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


All night, every night, ‘til just before light;
As the trains hurry by, and the eager bells cry
The train crossing, train crossing lullaby.

Well they say location, location, location -
In my case in between two FREAKING TRAIN STATIONS!
A masochist’s dream! A sadist’s delight!
Each hour, you get a guaranteed fright!
Perhaps your demeanour is naturally calm?
We’re sure that these bells will cause you alarm!
Bored? Apathetic? Just can’t give a toss?
Our train crossing bells will soon make you cross!
You DON’T care, you WON’T care, but soon you WILL care
When you hear

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


and you hear

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

and you’ll wish you weren’t there,
As the crashing trains rush by, and the happy bells cry
The train crossing, train crossing lullaby.

But since we’re all friends, let’s look at our leisure,
Let’s coldly examine this source of displeasure;
Let’s deconstruct, analyse, probe and expoud
On all the neurosis in this simple sound.
Perhaps it’s the way, when you talk to a friend,
It hollers before

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


before you get to the END,
How, when you’ are talking and meeting and greeting
And –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


And your -

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


(Silently: Fuck!) And your conversation turns into expleting.
Or sometimes, the way it will throw in a

BONG!

You tense up, expecting the

BONG!

to go on.
But no! Not one single

BONG!

can be heard.
At last, you relax and think they’ve just erred,
But then –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


- the bells sing out in a tone that’s capricious,
Or possibly maybe just plain malicious.
Or sometimes, the way they will loudly rejoice,
And holler for ages in their loudest voice –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


Not to mention –

And while the bells ring and you can’t hear a thing,
Not one single thing that someone is saying,
And they ring and they ring and your ears start to sting,
And you can’t hear a thing, not one bloody thing,
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

You say, “WHAT WAS THAT? THOSE BLOODY TRAIN BELLS!”
Your friend simply says, “Hey man, there’s no need to yell.”
Or sometimes, again, you’re sleeping in bed,
A curious dream going on in your head:
You’re eating a meal of Bongers and Mash,
With bongcakes for supper, and bongbeer to match,
And bongoing bongoists bonging the bongo,
And old ladies playing Bing-Bong or Bongo,
And BONG!ers and BONG!bing and BONG!ishly BONG!some,
And BONG! BONG! and BONG! BONG! and BONG! BONG! and then some.
You sit up in bed as

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!


rings out in the night,
(And you know by the sound that it’s almost first light.)
So trains madly rush by, and the bells louder cry
The train crossing, train crossing lullaby.

So that, in a nutshell, dear ladies and gents –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

That, ladies and gents, is my argument –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

My argument, folks, is simple and clear –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

It’s clearly the case that sometime this year -

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

I said, sometime this year, or sooner, no doubt –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

Quite shortly, in fact, I plan to move out –

BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
Or the BONGS! will BONG! on while I’m tossing and turning,
My ears will be ringing, my brain will be burning,
My stomach will flip flop, my gut will be churning,
My lower intestine ceaselessly gurning,
I’ll be sickly and ailing, my health will be failing,
I’ll be sobbing and moaning and weeping and wailing,
And howling and yowling and growling and moaning,
And pitifully wretchedly gnashing and groaning,
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!
BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!

As the trains hurry by and the crossing bells cry
The train crossing, train crossing lullaby -
The train crossing, train crossing lullaby.

11 comments:

Bwca Brownie said...

well dear WTFF
that was a gorgeous post.
How long do you think it will take for you to acclimatise?
I lived in a house against South Yarra station for some time, and the entire neighbourhood ambience soon became just 'white noise'.
Also I have lived way way way out of town where the only noises came from furred and feathered sources, and let me tell you about The Racket that 50 cockatoos make at 4am in a bloody tree.
Earplugs.
that is all.

TimT said...

Well, I think I'll adjust... sometime between never and forever, I'm afraid! No, I'm actually pretty used to it now... just gets annoying after I've had my sleeping patterns disturbed by something else. There was an element of hyperbole in this dramatic rendering...!

I had the experience, once, of waking up to a cockie shriek as a child (my parents were minding a pet one for a friend). Once was enough.

forlorn said...

Goodness me, we hear so much about aircraft noise but surprisingly little attention is paid to the hidden menace of train noise.

On the bright-ish side, it would provide a talking point for your guests, if only they could hear themselves talking!

Sincerest sympathy.

TimT said...

Ah yes, the good old Marrickville flight path, I lived under that for a while. If only I knew that I could have got poetic material out of it - that I was SUFFERING for my ART!

forlorn said...

It seems that transport noise gravitates towards you- or you gravitate towards it. I mostly have a tendency to live on busy roads, where the traffic noise becomes like tides.

I know this is a bit demanding of me, but if you have another poem or humorous observation ready to post this weekend, I would be very appreciative. I've had to spend the whole time working on something so boring I want to thrust my head through the computer monitor, so a laugh would refresh me.

Bwca Brownie said...

Dear Forlorn,
for a laugh tune in to Ch9
till you see their promo for ACA where June Dally-Watkins is sneering at Chk-Chk BoomChick "you want to cry don't you?"

and think about J.D-W crying herself
when she sees herself on the small screen looking like The Night Of The Living Dead.

forlorn said...

Thank you, Brownie. I will be on the look out for that. Of course it is very important as well as amusing to keep up to date with the doings of J.D-W.

Link said...

Hello Tim. That was brilliant.

Helen said...

SO just came into the study to see if I was all right.

He made the mistake of reading over my shoulder...


Also, bwca, I agree about the cockatoos. The country can be pretty noisy.

TimT said...

Thanks all. I love the response this piece has got, especially since I wasn't going to post it at first!

Ann oDyne said...

You weren't going to post it?

Popular Appeal is often the result when standards are lowered.
GEORGES Ltd is broke and gone,
Coles pays dividends.

On the positive side, transport often saves looking for a clock, as in
"oh a train, it must be 6:05am"
or
"it cant be too late - the trains are still running"
or out near Camperdown
"ah the train whistle - it must be 1:15pm" ... that sorta thing.

Email: timhtrain - at - yahoo.com.au

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