Its full of bankers and bunkers.' Tunnels are
Like holes in some cheese, it could well be
Emme-mental.? Or signs of a deeper disease?
Can i name it bunker nutrality.? Only if they don't play; in other regions politics.' Be they oh
So far away.' I get shivers just thinking.? Of
Whats on the map.? And whats being hidden
Do ever you think like that? Are you ok with
The clockworks.? Is tik-tok your scene.? Or
Do you smell a rat in the cheesefactory wow
That cannot be easily seen.' I've heard such
From Hoody.' And John Larter too.' I think it
Needs to be 'flushed out' now its over to all
Of youse.'
Categories:
clockworks, appreciation, education, surreal, symbolism,
Form: Ballad
The spirit or the flesh?
They are really one-in-the-same,
internals and externals of creation --
the face read-out of our
inner clockworks --
to review
man, his myriad of entangled
relationships, is to begin to understand
The Politics of Satan vs God
We can fool the Soulless press, often
co conspirators in illusion -- Truth
more likened to the quizzical eyes
of children~ amazed, confounded,
and then, lost....
Categories:
clockworks, identity, introspection, journey, love,
Form: Free verse
The colossal wheels of time, ever-turning gears,
Grinding moments into the dust of bygone years.
Massive cogs of destiny, relentlessly spin,
Weaving tapestries of what has been and what's to begin.
These cosmic clockworks, with their ceaseless churn,
Roll over empires, leaving lessons to learn.
They crush mountains to sand, carve canyons deep,
While we, mere specks, our fleeting vigils keep.
Thus, we escape the dust bins if time
Categories:
clockworks, image, imagery, introspection,
Form: Free verse
That old clock on the mantle
That measured the moments
Of so many mortals
Enmeshed in mere time
Now dusty and disregarded
Disdained and discarded
No longer the master
Nor server of time
One could offer that it’s
Time has passed
That it can no longer proffer
The measure of time
That it no longer dictates
A definitive number
When to rise or to slumber
Gives no longer life reason or rhyme
The clockworks have stilled
The hours no longer chime
Gears no longer mesh
Nor it’s hands tell the time
It’s an anachronism now
Lost in time somehow
Relegated, delegated, exiled,
To the trash pile of time
It sits alone, quite content with the fact
That it’s exactly right….twice a day
And that’s much , much more
Than most people can say
…at least most of the time…
Categories:
clockworks, change, time,
Form: Ode
A dream escapes my
grasp of time,
I float, I float, I float blind.
Through kaleidoscope
scars I bear,
my fears mingle with
rattlesnake snares,
and ticking, spinning
clockworks chime and chime,
like death’s rasp, and repetitious
rhyme.
I’ll lend you these thoughts:
I keep them in a glass vile,
and I’ll wait for the best
moment to
shatter.
They’ll then ponder over
the matter,
as if they were sadder!
And say,
“What an accident, she was forgotten!”
But I dream, I dream of the dead.
Their dark whispers haunt
my books.
And I want to give them looks,
I want to tell them I feel.
And that I too see in hues
of vivid memory.
Categories:
clockworks, art, confusion, lifedream, dream,
Form: Free verse
We are like gears,
In a churning machine.
When you spin,
I spin.
When I spin,
They spin.
Impelled by our interconnected intricacies.
Can my wheel just break away
Another gear will take my place
In my loneliness,
In this grand machine,
I find a place and spin again.
Spinning back............perhaps,
Surely forward again.
I need my gears to spin my time,
To grind my purpose disguised.
What is the workings of this grand machine
Let the watchmaker surmise,
As I move my gear with time.
Categories:
clockworks, life
Form: I do not know?