Home » Poems » Adam Hollingsworth » A Slant In Time

A Slant In Time

What is time? 
But a rotation of the planets, 
A love gone to the wind, 
Or a setting of the sun? 

Sometimes we can’t tell the day, 
But by the bottle we drink. 
Or the books I read, 
…Plato, Steinbeck, and old Walts leaves. 

What is art? 
But a set of statements, 
An aesthetic feeling, 
Or a theory on communication? 

And other times I sit in the wind, 
Nostalgic story’s swim in the chaos of thoughts. 
A world of energy measured by mass, 
To the speed of light, 
…Have you ever seen God? 
Or a rope strung to the choking of seeds? 
Submission, 
Submission, 
A world I don’t want to keep. 

Do you know what it is to hurt? 
Love burnt to a gravitational hole, 
Failure that sticks like a parasite 
…to the bone. 
Loss of light, 
Loss of touch, 
Loss of comprehension, 
It hurts so much. 

Here we dwell where time has no meaning, 
A court of the gods, 
With a promised feast 
Consumed by gluttonous dogs. 

Out in the hills we roam, 
Lost like infantile, mad children. 
To a hunt of tragedy, 
Is the mistake of Cephalus. 
Can you feel the cold chill, 
The rains of pain? 
The wind is our home, 
And a soft mad echo 
Speaks to us, 
…what is it saying? 

What does it mean, 
To be? 

Standing one with nature, 
Crouched by a river, 
Can we interpret the drones 
Of a suburban family? 
They speak of regulation, 
And hold a working class hero 
As the sweets of moderation. 

Doesn’t the road of excess 
Lead us to the palace of wisdom, 
And can’t we say truth 
Is but of a relative nature? 

But behold, 
I believe in a long 
Derangement of the senses 
To 
Obtain 
The 
Unknown. 

Though, What is life? 
Art, poetry, a figment of the imagination. 
The skeptic concludes 
To a weak will. 
The artist spins a love 
Of 
Degradation. 
The contemplative 
Reaches the of height of formation. 

The meaning, 
What is reason for the meaning? 
A will, a thought, a spinning of a thread, 
Or, 
The fabrics of dread. 

Two paths, one entity, 
A system from a creed of deities. 
Can you speak when I say, 
“Reckless abandonment, 
Deranged lonely nights, 
Failed plains inside the mind. 
So useless to try, 
The common misperceptions of what’s right, 
And the twinkle of tears gone by, 


…Welcome to life.”

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