Time is not justly counted by increments...
like a pie all crust can have space without filling
it disappoints –
too much wasted by reluctant planning –
few visions of living ever leaving the station of
Excursion – like a dynasty of tempting brochures culminating in
tenure, that far more brave and less credentialed travel faithfully
outright...
Triumph's Reckless Youth vs Pompous Charted Night
such licensed surveyors expose dark by tiny bits called
stars, seeing only seconds, oblivious to stuffed longer
gigantic days' leaps packed into uncharted universes
time shallowly used is soul
and spirit only outside basted,
exterior roast__toast
while the bloody inside
left yearning release,
for its surface~ burning!
when time is too contemplated,
measured, set in plates of orderly
rations – seasoned but only tasted
(a belly denied lumps of glutenous
impulsive passions)
it is a written novel
with no real claims
to glory....
Time then...is only Time
dimly expressing God's timeless
true story
Their clamouring voices still resonate
Clear as day, how I yearn to go back
When time was coloured to give it more weight
Each hour a bright tint to keep me on track
Did I know the hours could lose their hue?
Suffocate me in glutenous grey goo?
Back then a tool to keep me on cue
Now seeps through walls and in piles accreue
Tears, laughter, and never going to bed
Time was so light then, so easily spent
Ignoring even my illness so spread
Till I was left or was it me that went?
Once I was a mother, alas no more
I have lost my voice but inside I roar.
3 september 2020
grazing in blue fields
majestic white buffalo
partly cloudy skies
thunderous stampede
men on black stallions give chase
deadly storms brewing
lown clouds gobbled up
glutenous storms have prevailed
buffalo extinct
was not of folly, but of choice,
for saccharine safety on the higher ground
inside the wall
would cloy his sulpherous soul
and beating down his moble sacrifice
install a glutenous presumption
of a unity unworthy of him.
No, there must be cataclysm
in the leap, dragoons enlisted,
and a lamentation worthy of the feast...
the sighing tempered not by hominid
nor beast, but by a stubborn memory
of infant sleep,
beguiled by nothing more
than fragments in the grass.
~
Deafening whispers as I Scream,
Cast aside off-screen,
Used only as a backspace,
Just to aid in your pace,
Rock bottom doesn't even begin,
Thought of nothing more than just a mannequin,
Unanchored with no directive,
Hopelessly optimistic to find an objective,
Regrettably knowing the sad truth,
Clenching my ticket waiting to cash it the booth,
Where the ticket masters grin is so cynical,
Taking my seat as it all becomes visible,
Walls begin to gawk at me with glutenous eyes,
Seeing now it as all just a clever disguise.