When mankind has been using gears, levers and pulleys,
For thousands of years,
To speed things up,
Or slow things down,
To make it possible to take heavier loads uphill,
And to go faster on straight roads.
Then came clocks to measure the passing of time.
And with many machines geared to the speed needed,
For their required tasks,
One would think that humankind would lead less stressful lives,
But no their brains remain unable to change down to a lower gear,
Unless they take their brain out into the country for a year or two.
Most however don't seem to have the heart for it,
Are always looking to arrive at their destination Dead on Time,
And one day they will,
Sooner than they needed to.
Does Time really run like clockwork,
True to the dictates of mankind,
Never more than a mill-second out?
Or does someone or something have a hand,
In giving some of us more time than others,
With many arriving at their destination dead on time,
And others cheating death more than once,
By being fashionably late,
With many frozen in time,
Awaiting their arrival?
And if that is so,
Do the thinkers get the most time,
And the more impulsive less?
Do we all travel through time at the same pace,
Or do some of us have more time to waste?
Can our actions speed up time,
Or is it inaction that is the time killer?
Maybe we need to take a leaf out of the good book,
And accept like Jesus did that our time here is based,
On the task we have been set,
And that we get to stay as long as that takes,
No more, no less,
And clocks will never accurately measure,
What is set in stone,
By a different set of hands?
Words unsaid
Loss is laid
Gone too soon
Ere next noon
Dead on time
A lost chime
In life brief
Echoes grief
State too late
Empty plate
Loss feels deep
Final sleep
Sad looks bleak
Knees feel weak
Eyes droop low
Last light glows
Farewell then
Loss knows when
End game woes
Time to go
Pay cheque paid
Jobs waylaid
Leon Enriquez
27 October 2017
Singapore
I heard the radio say we won’t make it
the announcer was quite sure of it
I’m fearing the sound of sirens
Welcoming the sound of detachment
From inside out
Outside in
From last nights drink to tomorrow nights sin
Dead on time isn’t my usual agenda, but neither was any of this
Showing up fashionably late fashionable
Helped ease the conversationalist
The man in the corner
Dirty wine glasses stack to the brim with sedatives
Someone help me
I wasn’t supposed to see the criteria
Somebody get me out of this fog
I can see a shadow holding a rose with comfort
Someone get me out of this fog
Five seconds before the crash
I was illustrating my demise
Speaking of you
Speaking of me
I’ve suffered worse fates in your eyes
Five seconds before the garden
I was watching your mother crow
Speaking of her
Speaking of him
From the thumping down below
This is it, this is the rest of our lives
This is what happens when you blink
This is the rest of our lives
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