Digit’s Lament

Digit’s Lament

Submitted by Sparrow on Sat, 2015-06-27 00:13

Damn you that your heart sings
there deep in your chest it rings
I will stop its irritating thump
my blade will stop its pump

Your hair silken to the gaze
Allowed me your head to raise
my trusty steel slid across
So much blood you lost

The light flickered in your eyes
your fear didn’t even realise
not a flinch of pain as you bled out
No pretty voice box to shout.

I treated you with all respect
a cleaner kill you couldn’t expect.
I am an expert in this my art
your soul your beauty must part.

My mother is the curse of this day
She always taunted locking me away
Her filth decayed my reason you see
I was never allowed to be me

That you are a lady no fault of mine.
I will go now and leave you behind
Give me a finger to remind me of you
also some meat to make a gentle stew.

Yours Digit.

A Dark Room

The dark room

Submitted by Sparrow on Mon, 2017-01-02 08:58

The darkness closed about my form
In think, there were my fellow travellers
They closed the spaces between our ways
A common bond let feelings be born.

We tried to think of something
That you all should know
All things became muddled,
As you are so many wanting

Then peace took over,
Where pure thought could rule
Tell them, tell them, now!
Though we try not to be cruel

The thoughts of horror held the sway
Future times that saw many swept away.
Rulers and leaders that falsely held
Their people, forgetting they are real.

The think evolved and pulsated so
Out there the truth should be told
There are very few now that are free
A sorry state is this humanity

They in their stupidity could not see
The Earth would move, not many would be
That those that were left behind
A struggling mass of human kind

Do you think there will be a change
No things will remain the same
Where greed and hate of others
Will be a base for a new world

Cata Strophe (The Mayan Stone Mason) © 21-12-12

Transported 1-5

Transported 1-5 Sparrow has left the Island..The Journey and Arrival

Sat, 2011-07-23

This is part of my Diary that tells of this sad year where I have become a convict through no fault of my own??

I found myself and my family wanting
In my haste to return to my abode
I had rushed away from the Bakers
Without paying a farthing for my load

I heard a loud rattle behind me
This brought me to my senses
I found a Loaf still warm in my hands,
also the hand of a Peeler on my shoulder
Saying “come with me you thief”

I couldn’t’ argue, as he was six feet tall.
As I turned I noticed a pair of hand cuffs,
descending onto my wrists.
The coldness of the metal made me flinch,
then break into a rampant sweat.

Peeking out of his pocket was a truncheon
It must have been very persuasive as I froze.
I was dragged to a cart that I hadn’t seen,
poking out from an alley,
just fifty yards from the bakers shop
The peeler muttered something about New Gate
Off we trundled down the cobbled street.

Tyburn Bridewell

Horror is racking my brain, trapped.
This place it is a living hell.
Cramped into a place of stone
Water seeps through the walls
The smell burns your soul

A corner to sit and crap
Another to piss such bad urine
Some tainted with blood from beatings
This is a death that is not known

Just fifty yards from the streets I loved
How long I will be here no one can say
They take men out in pairs each day
A trial they say, but no one returns

I wonder if this is the meaning of Tyburn
They say I am a Tyburn Blossom
A thief that resides in its maw
I fear that I may become a gallows bird

I hear they send strong men from here
To places found, a foreign ground
That only the ship returns from
With strange goods that don’t belong

I await my fate if should I die
Just let them know that you knew of me
That I didn’t mean to do the deed
A vacant thought as the smell wins.

The trial

They hauled me out of that hell hole
Smacked me a couple of times
For not keeping up with them
How could I not, being handcuffed to one

I smelt a bit by this time
No washing, in fact very little water
My cloths were ruined
By this time it was a thought

This tidiness thought kept me
from seeing the reality of here
Dragged into an arena type room
Nags laughing at me and pointing

Someone read out what had transpired
It was dream like, not real
I was asked, if I wanted to say anything

What could I say I was alone.

No defence as you have now
Just a paid man to witness
what had happened that day
Though I knew he wasn’t there.

I shrank as the sound echoed
Guilty as charged the sentence will be
Transportation to the colonies
They dragged me away, no plea

Where are they sending me
They laughed and said Australia
That’s where you’ll be going
Port Jackson never free

The year I remember was told to me
The year of our Lord now 1822
What could I do for my family
Nothing, clung as my dirty cloths

The Ship

What a beautiful day to go away
That day of July 1822 sun held high
That was as far as it went
Hurled into the hold I was sent

Moored in London town
The Brampton who’s captain
Could only wear a frown
Sam Moore was his name

It turned out not our gain
As this man hurt us many times
He was cruel to all he met
Lashes and curses all we could get

We were in the port of Ireland
Even before we left he started
Two men fighting he soon parted
Twenty lashes dealt out so easy

I was held in their filthy prison there
As we were to leave later in the year
When the chill of Winter held us so
November came, off we did go

Now my journey has begun
To Australia full of fear no fun
Most times we were ill, first a cold
Then scurvy hit us in the hold

Damn surgeon all he did need
A dozen leeches to make us bleed
Then our troubles were more
Laxatives to make our asses sore

Those were the days, you say for sure
Not your ass, the pain I bore
Couldn’t wait to go ashore
Landfall was in February, not for me

The Cape of Good Hope was seen
Flat topped mountain no green
A parched land of many lost dreams
Told that Australia is worse it seems

We are scheduled to arrive
In Port Jackson if we are still alive
Some when in the Year of 23
I hope it’s before my next birthday..

The Indian Ocean

This was a new hell for us
Taken from the hold each day
Either flogged or water sprayed
To stop us stinking it is told

What else was there too do.
One hundred plus, kept in the hold
Another month it passed slowly by
An island stop, to starboard lie

St Anthony ‘s, Island they did say
Coral Island seen a beauty missed
The cat of nine culled it with a hiss
Stop for water then on our way.

There was no land to walk that day
The pilot whale even left us there
Pointing South East no smile to share
The Captain was in a mood again

Dr. Morgan Price our surgeon good
He kept us bled as doctors should
We were tied, couldn’t cause a fuss
The 3rd Regiment (Buffs) saw to us

Thomas Coulson, their quartermaster
Had his family and wife to look after
We would peep at them each day
As they walk the decks above our bay

Small things kept our minds from ill
The Surgeon was a man of skill
He taught some to read and write
From our pathetic state some respite

The longer days came and did go
A shower came and carried snow
We were told that to the starboard bow
There was a land of Ice and snow

To reach Port Jackson we were told
That now we would be locked in the hold
As here the wind was roaring each day
As to Australia this was the way

Peaceful waters came to us today
Headed Northerly, stopping the sway
Then a few more days just so
The anchor dropped into a bay

Cheered the fact that we were here
Though we didn’t know that was clear
This was the place that Cook had found
Botany Bay was just off the sound

Washed by buckets of water clean
Then loaded in boats not often seen
Inspected by the governor of the day
Excellency Thomas Brisbane held the sway

All of us prisoners were told where to go
I was selected for a place I did not know
Called Moreton bay in the north
I just didn’t care for what it’s worth

What can I say as punishment goes?
I was lucky my God only knows
That to survive the trip from home
To a place that to all is unknown

A bit of goss,
I am told that I will be in the Morton bay area.
Sometime in early November. a man called John Oxley is going to explore and I am to be one of his helpers???
It will be great to be able to stop and look around.
But have just heard this song of Morton bay,
and it has sent shivers down my spine…

Moreton Bay

One Sunday morning as I went walking
By Brisbane waters I chanced to stray
I heard a convict his fate bewailing
As on the sunny river bank I lay
I am a native from Erin’s island
But banished now from my native shore
They stole me from my aged parents
And from the maiden I do adore

I’ve been a prisoner at Port Macquarie
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains
At Castle Hill and at cursed Toongabbie
At all these settlements I’ve been in chains
But of all places of condemnation
And penal stations in New South Wales
To Moreton Bay I have found no equal
Excessive tyranny each day prevails

For three long years I was beastly treated
And heavy irons on my legs I wore
My back from flogging was lacerated
And oft times painted with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering now underneath the clay
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
All at the triangles of Moreton Bay

Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan’s yoke
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did deal this tyrant his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated
That all such monsters such a death may find
And when from bondage we are liberated
Our former sufferings will fade from mind

Wouldn’t you tremble if you heard this song,
Yours John Sparrow

I received a message from John only yesterday, saying that his permit to journey away from Port Jackson had been received, and that he was only given 3 months to report to Moreton Bay.
That he has to go overland it will probably take him that long to reach there as the country is very rugged. Yours Yenti

Glastonbury Digit

Glastonbury

 

Digit loved to move to that rock and roll

So off to Somerset to find some he would go

There a festival fit for his favourite, the Queen

Damn he thought the Rolling Stones, a bad dream.

 

He set up his tent and prepared his day

If everything went well he wouldn’t stay.

For a change as this was a gathering fair

He would target a young woman, plenty there.

 

Searching faces coming in, Oh folly, Oh folly

A young woman alone, with her goods and brolly.

“You look strong can I help you along the track?”

I’ll pitch your tent and help you to unpack

 

“I will if OK with you pitch your tent over here”

Knowing her short night they would share.

“Thank you very much for help as you can see

First time here and there is only little ole me”

 

 

 

 

Digit‘s inward smile nearly burst his jaw

His mind was racing at the thought of it all.

His helping hand to her was soon done

Later he smiled; I will be having some fun.

 

The music blared as the day flew on

Some tired old groups trying to sing along.

The place was filling as the evening drew near

The young lady met him, she wanted to share.

 

“I came here on a whim of fancy”, she cried

“No family to bother me, and never a bride”

Digit said he was the same, his folks all gone

“Let’s just enjoy the music, we sing the same song”

 

Digit knew that this togetherness wouldn’t begin

How could he sort out his need, if feelings crept in?

The evening drew to a close for what only he knew.

He would squeeze her hand and her feelings grew.

 

Together in his abode they locked in frantic bind

His mind raced he couldn’t afford the loving time.

He reached for his weapon selected earlier that day

Ended her heaving, dragging her life in a red bouquet.

He removed one finger from her now white hand

He knew the police would not understand.

It could take them months to connect the kill

With the one on his holinight up on the Wirral

 

Late into the moons drop, he packed her things

Left them in his tent, he had fulfilled his dreams

He didn’t look back as he left the scene

A tent was standing where two had been

 

He had heard of another place close by

Cheddar Gorge and a Cave what a place to die

He headed that way but tarried a while

To think on his actions with a broad smile.

Digit Pt 6

Digit left the Scottish low lands with much haste
South West was calling, he increased his pace
An area where many interests abound
He will be able to move freely and not be found

There in the old docks he saw SS Great Britain
A thing of beauty that brought him to thinking
A man of engineering fame, just need to say his name
Brunel seemed to ring a bell, and his rise to fame

This made Digit think of other places to be
He wandered off, a suspension bridge to see
This took him across a river that journeyed on
There way beneath was the lovely Avon

Digit started to need, his mind set for a new kill
He wandered from the bridge to the top of a hill.
He spied domed building there that said observatory,
Just the place he thought to find a victim for misery.

He paid the dull man at the door walked on to the floor
There a round table in shaded light, showed him more.
A panorama of outside, people unaware, that he was there
On the table his victim would appear and draw near.

In the room was a cave entrance a place to hide
He looked to see where it went, being so dark inside
It led to a balcony holding on to the cliff face
A view of the bridge, where death would take place.

Digit smiled and thought he would wait awhile
His thirst for death, to his face brought a smile
He sensed a presence before he saw her there.
A student brushed his side, smiled without care.

That made him snap, and her longish neck too
It was such a short moment and it was through
Digit realised that he was trapped at this time
A tunnel a corpse there a cliff left to climb.

He sorted the problem with the sweep of his hand
Tipping her body over the edge just felt grand
He retreated to the round tabled picture room
He knew in his heart she would be missed soon.

Slowly without making a fuss he left the scene
Flew away as if he had just fulfilled a dream
Smiling that he had completed his kill
A blood mark on his pocket gave him a thrill.

Therein he knew that a trophy was safe
Number seven painted a smile on his face
He returned to his safe seaside retreat
He hadn’t had time to collect more meat

Next day as the news was read to the world,
He thought of the girl who flew like a bird.
That another had jumped down the cliff wall
Strange that she lost a finger in the fall

Digit smiled, he was so pleased to be alive
Number seven finger on which he did thrive
A new day dawned making him feel so free
As he walked the beach, by the edge of his sea.

Dead Digit ???

 

 

Where to now to bring terror my friend

To fetch some flesh and a thumb to end

My trail of hate for the way my parents were

A Mother whore, a Father who was like a cur.

 

I am tired he thought as he left South Wales

Across the country again to London’s Scales

They were supposed to deal out justice

Yet my childhood was hidden in a deep mist.

 

Here he could find the universe in one place

Millions of visitors a few deaths no disgrace

No thought of the waxworks and the two killed

He had butchered those two and was so thrilled

 

Where today that I can go to view it all

Ah! The London Eye would be his next call

A ferry from the Tower of London’s side

Where shall I meet my next deaths bride?

 

 

Wait I have just spied a haven by the bridge

His muddled brain saw the water’s edge

Where the queens to their deaths were taken

He thought great to die here with the forsaken

 

He left the cruise at the very next drop

Walked along the embankment to that first stop

In the dark with water lapping that hidden gate

His hunger for death of another he’d satiate

 

His mind now raced as time passed by

He saw the full face with his Mothers Eyes

And after his Fathers twisted slaking

Would make the next, better for the taking

 

He heard a sweet voice that sang low

It seemed trying to ward of any evil soul

But Digit knew in those shadows deep

It was time for this maid to eternal sleep.

 

Not many times but once in a while

Digit thought about a kill without a smile

He’d make this one as quick as he could

Such a sweet voice he just understood

His blade whistled a different tune

The woman’s voice was stopped so soon

There was haste to finish his task tonight

No time to waste at being polite.

 

Three cuts with his blade so true

Two thumbs were severed and flesh for stew.

Then tipping the body over the side

To let the Thames take it out with the tide

 

As usual digit was thinking the same way

He would return to his place by the sea today

He was returning with his trophies to his domain,

Did he slip off the platform to fall under a train?

 

All the fingers of a body where crushed to pulp

A sight that would make a strong man gulp

It was strange the man said what he found by the dead

Talking low there were three thumbs beside its head

 

The early paper, told it first thing next day

Ran a story about him and all it could say

That a poor man had died a horrible death

As he slipped under a holiday train at Morpeth

 

They told the story of a very puzzled man

Well you try to believe it if you can.

Some time passed before the puzzle was solved

A policeman in Oxford, the evidence trolled

 

He said that he was on the trail of a killer

That had taken things like flesh and a finger.

It was found that what he said was so right

A dead Digit now we could all sleep tight

 

But wait a while don’t you start to smile

The last victim was missing two thumbs

Only one extra was found on the same ground

As Supposed Digit so mangled they found.

 

There on a beach not so far away

You will find new footprints each day

The smell of long pig pollutes the air

So if you are going out take great care..

 

Digit in Edinburgh

Digit in Edinburgh

 

Digit thought it’s August, to go where it was cool.

Where people are friendly, a place to use his new tool.

All the world was warm, Edinburgh, the place of his birth

Opened their hearts to their kin, for what it was worth.

 

Many stories of old body stealers, and hidden vaults

Dark ages where many in blood and plague were soaked

Yet the city still retained within it’s Granite walls

Many secrets of kings, and of beautiful queens downfalls

 

Those legendary pair who didn’t share their meat

They have no option now that I am here at Bruce’s seat

Names that we remembered, Burke and Hare, stupid pair

Did they know that their body stealing was unfair?

 

Let Digit show their ghosts a new thing or two

How I can kill better, they only dead bodies knew

Then to carve a joint, for essence of pork to smell

How I will send another girl or boy to a bloody hell.

 

This his mind would turn round and round

Here on his Mothers and Fathers rotting ground

Their memory brought a maddened gleam to his eyes

Faces flashed past his memory, then their lies.

 

Did the screaming face of her never stop?

Or the Father with his shredding bloody strop.

I feel it now my skin burns where he would hit me

The ranting of Mothers words buzzing like a bee.

 

I will find more souls to let them know the score.

Better me, than to let them suffer for ever more

I know them each and everyone who crosses my path

They will scream, and then be at peace to quell my wrath.

 

 

 

The caves at the Rowan Tree, good place to go,

People are gawking at, where others had suffered so.

I shall wait for them in the hidden places

I am there for them and their death mask faces

 

Their minds must be sick if they get any thrill

Of muted death of many here, that were so ill

The plague killed, and then poverty took its toll

Not a place to go, just for a curiosity show.

 

I  Digit will show them a worthy death

Sliced blood carriers, then I claim their breath

Those looks of fear, instant, floats on the eyes

Fading as the setting sun as they realise

 

Then I claim my trophy of their demise

Not sure if to take a toe this time, their dead eyes

Toes will take more time for me to gain

Though dead Eyes will never be the same

 

This place here underground is such a treat

It will give me more time to attack the feet.

A group of ghost hunters are heaven sent to me

A scream or two will set one or two so free.

 

 

 

Shush! I have to concentrate before it’s too late

This is a lovely place to decide their gory fate

Two stragglers from the parties group

A piece of one to make my special soup

 

 

The other, open toed shoes, a trophy to gain

Edinburgh’s underworld, will never be the same

Digit gathered his form his new knife he bore.

It sliced two humans they fell, they were no more.

 

Digit worked his parent’s smiles to even the score.

Of a life of hate they grew within him more

A toe from the open shoe was added to his Pocket

The other, a slice of flesh, and a once loved locket

 

 

The locket was a new thing for him to do

He remembered his Mother, she had one to.

Digit fled the scene well all that he could see

He knew in his mind that he had set two more free

 

Taking the train back to his beloved home

He had a look at the locket now that he was all alone

There in sepia’s sheen, a grand lady and man was seen.

Why now? He cursed at what his grandparents had been

 

Tears rolled from his death seeking eyes

Stupid me he thought as he realised

That once he had a life of laughter and good days.

This hate of his parents had twisted his ways.

 

Home once more he rushed in the door

A different rage took him by the hand

His trophies he gathered one toe, two hands

He rushed out to where the sea touched his sand

 

No one heard him scream their names

As he threw his ill gotten now rotting gains

Into the waves as they brushed his feet

He returned to his home to cook some meat

 

 

Digit visits Deadwaters

Digit visits Deadwaters

The M74 sleek and black seeming an endless stream
Carried Digit away to a Lanarkshire of others dreams
Where people lived far away from all the worries
Yet he was boring down on them in wild hurry

A strange man that took such a great joy
In killing, no matter if it was a girl or boy.
A road sign caught his meat hungry eyes
Deadwaters next left, now that hunger to realise.

Days since he was in Cheddar to gorge
Now in the beauty of the country to forge
A name that would put such fear into so many
Once they knew it was him at the drop of a penny.

PC Morse was watching the morning’s news
Put two things together nearly blew a fuse
Sergeant we have a problem that’s for sure
This killer has struck several times before

Digit totally unaware of what was said there
He slowed to take in the scenes without a care
He just turned off the motorway that day
The B7086 beckoned his hungry killing way

Boghead passed by his field of view
Lucky people there if only they knew
It would take a few days for them to hear
Who had passed their way without a care.

Digit slowed as a small sign appeared
Deadwaters his crazed mind uttered a cheer
Slowly, Slowly, catch a monkey, crossed his rage
Held like a wild creature pacing madly in a cage.

An unusual sane thought was felt for a change
Wait till it’s darker for you to wander this range
A new feast would arrive as it had done before
Parked a little way off the road is safeer for sure

Donning the dark clothes that had served him well
He stepped out into the night of someone’s hell
The shadows closed around him like a delicate cloak
His was the night of another’s their blood to soak.

He spied the lights coming on in the houses there
He just walked up to the first house without a care
Knocking gently on the bespoke Oak door
Waiting, waiting could he take any more

The hall light came on in the window small
A slight creature was walking up to the door
The lady of the house that was for sure
Opening the portal wanting her blood to pour

Poor creature didn’t have time to ask a name
Digit’s homemade gloves knew the game
He heard his Mother there stifling a scream
His deranged mind knew it wasn’t a game

Speed was of the essence now the poor girl
He let her slip away feeling nothing, his mind in a whirl
Draped over his shoulder she joined in the thrill
Soon to satisfy this, the sixth of his frenzied kills

Walking back to his car he had left the door ajar
Saving time as he would flee fast and away so far
Blackwood seem to impress on his demented mind
A place among trees that would be hard to find

Digit rested a while before the body he despoiled
Left the creature there though, for his feast he toiled
Then the trophy of his nights work he would gain
The finger that held a ring was his to retain.
.
Six was his total number of trophies now
A stupid thought came to his ragged mind somehow
After the next two fingers he would maybe stop,
Eight the number for two hands he would have clocked.

He journeyed south again to rest by his beloved sea
Walking the sand and watching waves made him free
He covered his tracks car gone nothing to see
The only trace, six fingers in a jar, and stew for tea.

 

Digit Goes to London (Pt 7)

 Tue, 2013-08-06

Digit

There was a severe storm around Digits bay
Digit tried to walk his beach the same way
His anger grew as there was seaweed strewn
Over his thoughtful ways, by the restless waves

His anger grew as the sun grew warm
His killing had waited far too long
Days had fallen into a week or so
He would have to satiate his restless soul

Think damn it where should he go
Then a smile on his face was seen
He would go to London to see the queen
There he could kill two birds with no stones

He returned to his house with haste
At last a target put a smile on his face
Whitechapel from stories of old
A ripper took many lives or so it’s told

We will not be a copycat his mind did race
Something modern to take its place
A room with a view that went on high
Oh joy he thought the London eye.

With control of his ways as usual
He knew the things he would do
Catch a train it is less seen than a car
It would not tire him to travel so far

The green countryside rolled by
Digit kept thinking of the eye
Where to find a target so
There were many places to go

Kinks cross brought him back to life
Checked his bag for his best knife
Now underground he must travel
A ticket to buy a show to unravel

Digit smiled and thought which show?
A young Bard in Canada he did know
To the Globe he’d seek Shakespeare’s scene
To turn his friend that envy green

He caught the matinee productions story
It pleased him that the thoughts were gory
The “Merchant of Venice” was the show,
The pound of flesh made him glow.

The end was not what he would like.
No blood to make his mind spike.
Still the Merchants thought was there
As he made his way out it was so clear

A need for blood was uppermost in his head
No matter how many were left for dead
He was shaking as a new train was taken
Tower of London dwelt with the forsaken.

Not only peasants were mutilated there
Kings and queens also they did fear
That this place held a feel of death
So much so it took his breath

Where better could Digit feed his mind?
Terror in other places he’d find
Whitechapel and its ripper’s greed
He also on young woman did feed

A grand thought entered digits way
Madame Tussauds is where he would play
Careful he was so not to show his track
Walking the streets never looking back

Baker Street so many things it had seen
Of Holmes and Watson, fiction’s dream
There in that street a place to curdle blood
The chamber of horrors that no one loved

They say a wax works that brings a chill.
Digit smiled this is the place to kill
All fancy people from times gone by
Walking through they caught his eye

That nasty chamber was his goal today
Here he would prepare a morsal to slay
He nearly laughed at the killers he saw
None could ever match his gall.

Perfection was presented to his eyes
A table with corpse being sectionised
Digit was so intent on this scene
He didn’t read the name of who it had been.

Hiding in the darkened place
He waited there for the perfect face
One to near match the slaughtered girl
His knife and gloves from rap unfurled

He sheltered the gleam of the blades
As he waited in the dark for the maid
Here he found a problem now
They were all accompanied somehow

His anger blazed as he figured what to do
He would now have to kill another two
Soon there in the shadows he could see
A girl and boy so in love, holding tightly

Unusual for Digit, he killed both swiftly
One sweep of his arm, no sound, no pity
Pulling both quickly behind the scenery
He carried out his frantic butchery

The boy was left alone in forever’s cold grip
The girl was snatched, as in death he slipped
A finger removed to complete his set
Then a pound of flesh as the merchant bet

Digit smiled as he did the ultimate crime
Changed the scenes body for hers just in time
As the next voyeurs hove into his happy view
He was thinking of his next plate of stew.

Back to the underground he found his way
Back home he hurried before the new day.
Eight fingers in a jar to please his mind
His head throbbed, muttering he’d have to find.

Two thumbs to satisfy his racing thoughts
Never thinking that he could be caught.

Out lands (To be Continued)

It was late in history
the cities had flourished,
grown into bound structures.
Bounded by the reflective walls.

My England had shrunk
Into blobs of black
Surrounded by tilled land
The realm of machines

The out lands of growth
Machine controlled
Then control from the city
Operators playing games

A game called survival
Between each city a link
The new iter city way
Compartmented travel

London to Manchester
City linked to city
Spaces of beauty kept
The in betweens of scenery

Fast travel nothing seen
Slow as fields past by
Trees kept aside the route
A foolish afterthought

Most knew of out life
The machines ruled
We needed nothing more
We became content

It was our end time