Lines Written On A Bus. Poem by Kevin Hulme

Is there anything more painful than travelling by a Bus, Save wearing a Hair Shirt with a Barbed Wire Truss. For it to arrive on time is expecting the Earth, Like asking Bill Gates for his PIN Number and Worth. There I stand at the STOP and the Bus sails on by, For the Driver wears Blinkers to the side of each eye. And when Godot does turn up it's packed to the brim, It's like a scene from "Where's Wally " for the space to fit in. Bowed heads they give prayer in the Church of the new, To their Gods that are Orange and Apple or the divinely O2. How unhappy and Glum the people all seem, Happier faces on Toffs meeting Madam Guillotine. Headsets to loud, sly Vapers at the rear, A baby's lungs in front give assault to the ear. The floors laid with trash and the seats are unclean, When last had a Mop "Lady Chatterley" was obscene. Oh there must be a better way to get from A right over to B, Without the Slings and sharp Arrows to my fragile self dignity. "Hell Is other people " a wise man had once said, This Perdition on wheels is the sample we dread. So as we get to the end, I disembark with relief, Next time I will walk and save myself grief.