Anthony Beesley Poet Blank verse

Time

Time is a tightrope...a tripwire...a twisted toy in bloody barbwire
Time is truth...more or less...where the rich and the ruthless write the history text

Time dissolves inside of dark dreams where life blood spews like volcanic lava
from a billion broken wings

Time sings and screams its siren song...where long lost lovers keep
mindlessly searching on

Time ticks and tocks...slowly heating up hearts into hatred
The timebomb laughs...closing in fast...soon seconds turn sacred

Time is a tape measuring the madness in insanity inches...true ones over time
all turn to treason

Time itches to scratch the scarred and the stained...stabbing and shooting
like a million princes of pain

Time is acid rain in radioactive nuclear pink...just like a slaveship time now sinks

Time tells its tales in its own sour season...tangled up and torn far beyond
the reigns of reality and reason

Time is diabolical and destructive...tracing the signs...too tragic is times task

Time is a trickster wearing a grinning murdermask

Time is technology with a terrifying twist of traps

What time is it now?

Time never answers and time never asks

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Eve Roper January 8, 2015 at 9:04 PM Anthony, another 7, time is our salvation or our destruction, we have free choice. It would be wonderful if everyone would use that time to make good choices.

Connie Marcum Wong January 5, 2015 at 11:24 PM This poem really drew me in. It was so intriguing and creative how you were able to capture most of the emotions we feel with time as our apathetic enemy. A really great write Anthony, especially how your last line seems so profound. Bravo!