Coming Home / The Great Railway Station Robbery – by NICK KITTO

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Coming Home?


We lie entwined, the silence

Between us punctuates the

Bardic tangle

Our very joining

Elemental, and now I

Feel all of me

Deep within, her

Murmured moans as

Moorland wind

The warm enclosure

Of her

Unforgettable, burned

In memories, suspended

At synapse, who could

Have known, that chance

Meeting, a poet, catalyst

To digital unfurling

“Single?” Maybe

“For you?” Definitely

Gin- trap mind

Perfectly encased, a

Porcelain shell

Living paradox

Powerful, brilliant, brave

Yet fragile, butterfly

Wings, perfect

Webs, freshly spun

Delicately poised in

Corners behind the

Weary facades of a

Long forgotten town

A star

Some other space

Long hidden in

Routine’s shadow, now

Burns bright, fierce

As flame, draws me

Now, moth-like. I drink

Your scent, touch

Your words

I know that

To bathe in the light

That’s you

Will wash


Fill me

And I will wake in

Another place, unknown

Yet familiar

I will ask myself

“Is this home?”


The Great Railway Station Robbery


Surrounded by the kind of silence

You only don’t hear at night

Broken only by thumping heart

And tinnitus hum of expectancy

Creeping to the fence with shotgun footfall

Grasping tight the tools of our temporary trade

Black bin liner to the left

Car wheel brace to the right

Something big going down the night

Of the great train station robbery

Trying to find a place to cross

We almost missed the gate

Where we could walk  right on through

And reach the platform

Sleepy enough by day

But now under an umbrella of silence

That I call palpable

And our footsteps

Turned cacophonous

Amid our sensibillia haze

Before us we see

Its dark outline

We creep up close and there

Like the golden fleece

To the munchies crazed, the very stoned

Yes,oh mechanized wish granter

The cadburys chocolate machine

Furtive looks around us

Pulses race within us


I bring the wheel brace down hard

For a first time shatter

We reach beyond the sharded edge

Of the jagged hole, grabbing

Furiously at the pocket sized bounty

Bin liner greedily swallows

Dairy milk, whole nut, dairy crisp

Fruit and nut and we’re off

Tachycardia cuts through the bong haze

I swear I hear the bay of the hounds

And banshee wails of sirens abound

We burst into our place

Laughing manically now

Contents spilled out onto bed

And I remember the giggle of boy men

As they watch the multi coloured cascade

And brace themselves for the sugar rush

Of the finest cadburys could offer

A  difficult journey lay ahead

Wasn’t gonna be easy I knew the risks

I’d never really liked dairy crisp

All of it was a game to me

Spent my nights smoking bongs

Snorting coke and talking shit

Listening to endless prog rock

My accomplice though

On the great train station robbery

He really was there to get a degree

Not to fuck about, playing Frisbee

At first we both went astray

But after a while it was just me

And while he knuckled down

I carried on peddling dope, going to gigs

And he didn’t want to play anymore

So I found new friends

Easy to do when you’re the dealer man

The man who can

In the end though

They didn’t want to play either

They were there for a reason

It wasn’t just about  having fun

Like it was for this one

Then years later I saw him again

The great train station robber

Settled down, married and happy

Baby on the way

They called him doctor now

Didn’t seem like my rustic mate somehow

And me, I was still mooching around

Wearing black, an enigma

In my own mind

A high plains drifter

It struck me then and now

Maybe felt my first hint of regret

Him a respectable member of society

Not my country sidekick anymore

High flying research positions

Being flown off to Singapore

Me in illicit retail management

And words from school

Came back to me

A gifted student

Could do more



Nick spent most of his childhood in Cornwall, hanging out at the beach, enjoying the outdoor life, a mad- keen surfer and cyclist which he still does to this day. He is a musician and poet. Coming from a songwriting background Nick has been writing poetry with a view to performing for the past 18 months or so, although he has written simple little poems for as long as he can remember. A regular performer on the Devon poetry circuit, Nick writes on a whole variety of subjects from ecology, to food obsessions, dysfunctional upbringing, addiction, anti-Islamophobia, to an ode to a guitar. He may well not be as funny in real life as he is in his own head!


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