Can anyone tell me if I can
escape from the temporal lobe
in my head?
For the memories that I have
collected through out the years
keep replaying over and over
again.
For when they play it's as
though they are happening
right then and there.
Can time speed up to either
dismantle the hippocampus so
the past events that causes
pain won't be recalled.
Can time speed up so the
hippocampus can trigger the
Alzheimer's can start to take
place.
I'll just depend upon the frontal
lobe to recall relevant
information and pleasant
experiences that has taken
place. Can anyone tell me?
In the dawn of this day
My slumber is in dismay
So I arise and listened to music
And found a pen to act like poetic.
I was wondering if I do have a talent
Of being a poet for my life’s a bent
I am thinking if my time and efforts a waste
For I deducted my sleep to make this poem great.
I endured mosquitoes and dawn’s cold breeze
But hearing the song “True Color” gives me a beat
If everyone sees true color this is such a feat
For I don’t need to act great and be a freeze.
Well I guess this is it
For now I don’t have words to fit
My simple poem for the morning
For I have a hard time sleeping.
Tick tock, tick tock said the weary clock,
Her arms are never still;
They keep on going round and round,
They still have time to kill.
The hours are few yet time gets lost,
As she goes her lonesome way;
Dressed to the nines she rings her chimes,
Never to count a spendthrift day.
Yet time is giving all it can,
As minutes and hours fly by;
For the hours of time are never kind,
Knowing time will always fly.
The arms of time never cease,
They never keep up with the day;
The trod around their plodding path,
They have no time to play.
Tick tock. tick tock turn back the clock,
The hours have been lost;
As minutes and hours add up to years,
While time is counting the cost.
There is time to spend and time to steal,
For time runs hot and cold;
And as we turn the taps to run,
There's time to be young and never grow old.
Somewhere before
If the end of time i'll see
Nowhere afore
If the beginning of time i'll be
Somewhere, memories left
The new swallowing the old
Nowhere were memories theft
If beginning life anew be sold
To some, where belongs?
For a forever end to forever be new
Belonging nowhere to be gone
Beginning a life... if you knew...
Where... for some?
Do we know simply... a home?
A nowhere to forever hunt
To simply begin a life unknown
Somewhere before
Its the end of time i see
As i recall
No beginning i remember to be
I gazed at the faded colored
Photograph in my wrinkled hand.
A smug frozen image of me
Dressed in scant half-slit shorts and shirt
Captured in a moment of time.
A billion more moments had past
Taking with them my yolk of youth
Once viable, vibrant, fleeting;
Faster than time itself but losing
In the end for time never paused
For a victorious moment
As I once did to smile and gloat.
Meanwhile interminable time
Raced onward with me in its wake.
Paraded endlessly, this spectacle the Elephants know to be degrading,
And their counterparts from the sea , the Orcas, resist in captivity
By refusing to unfurl their proud dorsal fin, stings my eyes like a gnat
Lodged in my cortex, no amount of profit seems to dislodge.
Waking from my dream, I notice the old man waving to the crowd,
Gesturing wildly, as if warning of something no-one has yet seen.
Every evolution of Plybinium Quasar, the spectacle increases, with
Dogs leaping and biting at the air, and Neptunes, of disproportionate
Size, unable (or unwilling) to allow the pain to subside.
The viewing platform, constructed entirely of entitlements, teeters
Vicariously in the breeze, with the prominent attendees smiling, despite
Frostbite, inching up their extended promises.
Utilizing “light-track” technology, the time hoppers applaud
At pre-determined intervals, a strenuous exercise for sure,
Given the time restraints imposed by the counters in the Humbolt Quasar.
In this unfamiliar atmosphere, what clean air there is left to breathe
Smells pretty bad, like a cake frosted with sulfur.
01/10/11
9:46 pm
© All Rights Reserved
The distant sounds of silent screams
Echo through my soul
A nightmare filled with broken dreams
That time cannot console
My helpless mind will not yield
To these voices that I hear
My captive thoughts have not revealed
The purpose of my fear
Loneliness mocks my very being
As time comes screeching to a halt
Blame hides my eyes from seeing
Insisting it's not my fault
They say I'm mad, mad indeed
They know nothing of my pain
There's no one here to intercede
So this madness must remain
They call me a poet, poet indeed
How is it they do not know?
Can't they see the words I bleed
I'm Edgar Allan Poe
The hour glass that sits on my shelf, the grains
of sand pour gently to the mirror of myself...
Each sand pebble that falls so slowly reminds me
of a peddle dropping from a rose so lightly...
I watch as time makes its way through the glass,a
peaceful hour as another day starts its pass...
You know my thoughts are filled with you, but I
must wait and see if the time is now and true...
The dust may gather on my shelf, but only time
will tell if this wait is for me or yourself...
Tick Toc, tic toc, the day has passed, so now I"m
left with night and a dream of you at last...
Soul Decisions
Decide-
The time to arrive,
Keep the right from the left;
Begin from begin,
….and never regret
Decide-
The time to depart,
Don’t look right or look left;
End at the end,
….and never regret
_________________________________
5/19/03
(found this in one of my many journals!)
Drifting off into vapor,
Plasmatic memoirs of the past.
A time traveler, though still sitting here
I am alive, not dead.
I lift my hands up to my face,
Check if I’m still breathing.
I feel warm breathe drift out of me,
I am alive, not dead.
Check the clock,
It ticks away,
The time I have left in the world,
I am alive, not dead.
I’m running back in time to pain,
The misery I had without you,
Hate, crime, and suicide,
I hate running back in time.
Here to a day I died inside,
Feel it all again,
Anxious for reality,
But stuck in a blockade of the past.
Kill me now,
Don’t wish to be,
Stuck in this dreadful past.
I think I am not alive…
Gasping for air,
Searching for reality,
Escaping myself,
Run back to the present.
I lift my hands up to my face,
Check if I’m still breathing.
I feel warm breathe drift out of me,
I am alive, not dead.
Yes, I am alive, not dead.
I’m wondering when
next time we meet,
what form we’ll take
in the next heartbeat
Will we be the rays
that blaze from the sun,
or could we be sprays
from when time begun
Maybe as nightingales
we’ll sing to the moon,
or maybe as wolves
we’ll sing our own tune
Would that we shifted
dimensions and time,
maybe our hearts
would beat the same rhyme
Maybe as echos
through deserts vast,
or maybe a comet
that moseys on past
Will we be leaves
that glisten the trees,
or will we be wind
that blows to the seas
Whatever we will be
and wherever we become,
set our spirit free
we are one anthem
Ever thought what memories are?
We have the happy and the sad
Our brains tends to record them all
Both the good and the bad.
It stores it up in our in hidden places
And reminds us of a point in time
When we experienced life’s best
Of the things we did in our prime
The memories which we tell others
Can make them laugh and others cry
But some remain a hidden secret
The devious acts till we die
But there is a purpose for our memories
They are all revealed when you pass away
It will be shown to all on a big screen
Of your actions on judgement day
Each point in time will be a movie
That you will have to justify
But you won’t be able to speak
As the guilt will intensify
So what you have done in the past
Will determine what you loose or gain
Is it heaven in all its bliss?
Or hell screaming in pain?
the time has come i can feel it,
but im not sure what that time is,
you know a poem doesnt have to rhyme,
but im just not sure about it this time.
I've been kicked out, shut out,
and im not sure what this is about.
This meaningless poem,
these bottled up words screaming to find a way out.
Sleep deprivation, an authors scout,
I wish to become known,
a look at the pebble, throw the stone.
The water in the lake ripples, and shines.
I will never know truly whats mine.
This malicious world, surrounding me.
This beautiful poem, asoundingly free.
REMINISCE ON HIGH 3/14/01
Reminisce on high of days gone by on city streets and mountains high
Rivers wide and valleys low trees that touch the sky.
But in my many daydreams I reminisce wishing I could fly.
Soar from continent to continent, while crossing the rivers wide
Admiring the scenery as the town and countrymen do so oblige.
And as my journey continues for just a short time more,
I think this time I’ll go coast to coast and fly along the shore.
With the wind blowing beneath my brow my daydreams come to light,
Is this all in my imagination I guess I’ll pick up the rest of my daydream
When I go to sleep tonight.
Mortal swords surrounded by flames honored soldiers on cloaked horseback
redemption shall lead your souls past brimstone no sinner will find shelter the
salvation of pegan is yours for the taken. At this time of auguish in hate we trust
the prince of righteous will grant us manisons and glory in his victorious story
damnation is but a fools trick and treat the soldiers of Caliga shall not fall for this
vulgar display of believers way. Will you clear a path for the princes arrival will
you undertake the time of inquisition as the faithful repent, will you rid the deceiver
of heaven sent as a soldier of dark Nero let cause be your hero. Ride the storm of
judgement lead the fable of horsemen to the bitter end it's midnight let the calling begin.
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