As many of you may recall I have recently visited Liverpool and met some of our fellow posters. It was quite an odd but positive experience to meet people you have spoken to anonymously on the internet for years and I was in a state of great nervous agitation in the preceeding days and for much of the evening, until I inevitably became quite drunk.
That night when I went back to my hotel I had a dream which I committed to paper when I woke up, I then decided to put the text in the form of a poem, which I'm sharing with you all now.
Just for some background, the dream involved me and someone called Rollo, who looked a lot like former Ipswich player Eric Gates. In the dream he was on a train and I was riding a horse alongside the train, much like a latter day train robber from the Wild West. Rollo and I had a protracted discussion about his cow, which, for some reason, I was convinced he was trying to transport on the train.
Anyway, I think the dream and this poem speak volumes about our own subconscious search for a real sense of identity, my own tendency in my mind's eye to see the ego as a domesticated animal that you still wouldn't let into your living room, and the struggle of everyday people to connect in a world of alcohol and technology.
Here is the poem:
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Take me to your cow
I saw him on a bus last week
And want to meet him now
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is that him on the roof?
I saw him up there yesterday
Looking quite aloof.
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is he wearing a disguise?
There’s a woman in a dress and hat
With very cow-like eyes
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is he crouched under a seat?
I think I saw some udders
Peeking from between your feet
Rollo, Rollo
Can it be
He’s driving the whole train?
The driver has a swishy tail
Which strikes me as quite strange.
That night when I went back to my hotel I had a dream which I committed to paper when I woke up, I then decided to put the text in the form of a poem, which I'm sharing with you all now.
Just for some background, the dream involved me and someone called Rollo, who looked a lot like former Ipswich player Eric Gates. In the dream he was on a train and I was riding a horse alongside the train, much like a latter day train robber from the Wild West. Rollo and I had a protracted discussion about his cow, which, for some reason, I was convinced he was trying to transport on the train.
Anyway, I think the dream and this poem speak volumes about our own subconscious search for a real sense of identity, my own tendency in my mind's eye to see the ego as a domesticated animal that you still wouldn't let into your living room, and the struggle of everyday people to connect in a world of alcohol and technology.
Here is the poem:
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Take me to your cow
I saw him on a bus last week
And want to meet him now
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is that him on the roof?
I saw him up there yesterday
Looking quite aloof.
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is he wearing a disguise?
There’s a woman in a dress and hat
With very cow-like eyes
Rollo, Rollo
On the train
Is he crouched under a seat?
I think I saw some udders
Peeking from between your feet
Rollo, Rollo
Can it be
He’s driving the whole train?
The driver has a swishy tail
Which strikes me as quite strange.
