Off-the-tracks train

in #dsound3 years ago (edited)

Off-the-tracks train

original spoken word
by @d-pend

    art by AquaSixio,
    photo by sweet-tea-86

train_train_quotidien_by_aquasixio-d8pvunq 2.jpg

sweet_vertigo_by_aquasixio-d88nkoh 4.jpgthickmodded.jpg

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thickmodded2.jpgsweet_vertigo_by_aquasixio-d88nkoh 5.jpg

Off-the-tracks train

Through difference-tendrils
auras compress and shudder away.
Saints arise, and statues built
of assumptions surge blockades.

Obstacle-crusher, erector,
kaleidoscope roles
in a colossic sector.

Eerie shadows,
dancing with light intertwined
deoxyribonucleic constructed divine.

Push and pull,
liaison of concepts.

Sceptre of wrong-thought trickling
down to a populace inner-conflicted,
constricted by difference
instead of enthused by uniqueness.

Put everything down, and seek this.
One week later?
Attention span slotted spoon,
noodle ocean of casual doodles spoken.

train_train_quotidien_by_aquasixio-d8pvunq 4.jpg

universal_melting_pot_by_sweet_tea_86 2.jpg


Written & recorded
by @d-pend
Art by

(boiling water photo
    by sweet-tea-86)

    1 — "Train Train Quotidien"
    2 — "Universal Melting Pot" [modified]
    3 — "Sweet Vertigo" [original, unmodified]
    4 — "Train Train Quotidien" [cropped, flipped]
Background train sound in audio
    sourced from

universal_melting_pot_by_sweet_tea_86 3.jpguniversal_melting_pot_by_sweet_tea_86 4.jpg


train_train_quotidien_by_aquasixio-d8pvunq 5.jpg

train_train_quotidien_by_aquasixio-d8pvunq 3.jpg


The tracks as synonym of monotonous order, homogeneity, or discipline is a great image to consider in this assembly line society we live in.
A lot has been said about the inner search and the pursue of individuality, uniqueness, originality or whatever we want to call it. Religion, the opium of the masses, as some have called it, has not helped much in this enterprise.

The off-track trains in our societies (we do have many; to them we owe whatever good we assume humanity is capable of) crush the obstacles that prevent humanity from developing its potential. Yet, not many follow suit. An off track train screams disaster, trouble with authority, the need to act differently if we truly want different results. Many, like the guy in the picture get off such trains surreptitiously. Better safe than sorry, they say.

We seem to be saturated with a conformist inclination to comply. Ingenuity and uniqueness takes a lot of work. How much of that is part of our innate wiring? How much is learned?

In attempt to encourage and respect differences we have been compressed, as you suggest, suffocated by an outer imposed illusion of difference that actually puts everyone on similar bins. Millions becoming part of cults and sub-cultures thinking they are actually going against mainstream.

I loved the image of the slotted spoon to represent the minds of those whose inability to retain one single “instruction” leading to self-realization challenges comprehension (especially when we consider how easily they follow dozens of instruction on how to remain mediocre). Our world is certainly a “noodle ocean of casual doodles spoken.” Who would not want to jump out of that sea and be that fish out of the water?

hello @d-pend a very inspiring poem where a lone train wanders over a colossal aura as always a good poem to read.

I apologize for daring to have stolen this photo of your poem since I did not get a better image on the internet for the poem.

                                       Source imagen @d-pend

Small train between the volcanoes, sliding wagons on rails wet by the rain for life, between mountains frizz and sorrow of burned sticks.

Oh border of dripping forests, wide ferns, water, of crowns. Oh cool territory fresh from the lake, of the river, the sea or the rain with wet hair, with the waist full of portentous lianas, and then in the middle of vegetations, in the line of the multiplied hair, a lost plume, the duster of a runaway locomotive with a train dragging vague things in the crushing solemnity of nature, throwing a cry of anxiety, of smoke, like a chill in the landscape!

So from its waves the wheat fields with the passenger train they talk as if it were shade, waterfall or bird from those latitudes, and the trensu spark of scorched coal distributes with dark devil's malignity and continues, follow, continue, climb the high viaduct of the Malleco river like climbing up a guitar and singing on the heights of the blue balance of the hardware store, whistles the vibrant train of the end of the world as if it were saying goodbye and going to fall where the terrestrial space ends, it was going to go down between the final islands of the ocean.

I'm going with you, train, fast-paced border train: I go to Renaico, wait for me, I have to buy wool in Collipulli, wait for me, I have to go down in Quepe, in Loncoche, in Osorno, look for pine nuts, freshly woven fabrics, with smell to sheep and rain ... Run, train, caterpillar, whisper, longitudinal animal, between the cold leaves and the fragrant earth, it runs with taciturn men in black blankets, with saddles, with silent sacks of potatoes from the islands, with the wood of the red larch, of the oloroso coigue, of the everlasting oak.

Oh train explorer of loneliness, when you come back to the hangar of Santiago, to the hives of man and his crossed power, you sleep perhaps for a sad night a dream without perfume, without snows, without roots, without islands waiting for you in the rain. motionless between anonymous wagons.

But me, between an ocean of trains, in the sky of the locomotives, I would recognize you Certainly air from afar, by your wet wheels far away, and by your pierced heart that knows the unspeakable, wild, rainy, blue fragrance!

[email protected] sir!
Born in the soil,
Know the center of soil
More than wealth, I know the value of Apno.
The flexible tree that caught the wind,
People who do not bend broke, these lessons are public.

Keeping bigger liver is not easy,
How important is patience in life

Hardworking people never lose,
I know the hidden strections in the bark of the hand.
Do not take anything or take something,
Born to soil is to go into the soil, I know better.

Variegated civilisations rise and fall, and what today is considered superlative is soon thrashed in the dustbin of history. However, humanity is constrained more by their belief in the physical rather than the divine. Man is too myopic to see the true homogeneity of the universe. He glorifies the shadow and ignores the substance, hence he's off the track. In his ignorance he does not see that he is a part and parcel of the Cosmos, he only being an infinitesimal sameness with the larger Cosmos.

This ignorance is fuelled and perpetuated by those in authority, imparting false or erroneous teachings upon the generality of people just to keep them enslaved in their ignorance and thoughtlessness.

There is a pervasive tone of sadness in the poem, a regret that people perish for lack of knowledge, and cannot be set free because they are steep in the track down the road of falsehood.


"noodle ocean of casual doodles spoken." - how about idea of spoken ocean , and spoken fluently? Why your poems are triggering instant poems in me? Upvoted, obviously.

Excellent post @d-pend I just started following you and this is your first new post. Great piece and accompanying art. I especially like universal melting pot by sweet-tea-86

"Eerie shadows,
dancing with light intertwined
deoxyribonucleic constructed divine"

That was great!

@d-pend very original writing that you make friend and the images if you are a pope of ice cream in this as it is said in venezuela you have inspired me to do something new for my blog @d-pend

Another great arrangments of words. You use words I haven't seen before in a way I haven't known. This was as I always say brilliant.

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Hi @d-pend!

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HAVE a nice Weekend ... from SEOUL.

Have a nice weekend too! From USA.

You are great poet.... Keep it up. :)

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