If I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
I would bribe it away, gladly give time all time I’d saved.
To hush time’s clock and hurts from all it stole from me,
I’d liquidate my time bonds and time earning stocks.
From the government to bread, false doctrine is fed
that time is for growing dimes to elsewhere bestow.
My soul longs for remote, a dwelling simple, a garden
ample, breathing without time strangling or mangling.
As time's slave, I must behave when it ends deep sleep
to summon me, ‘up, press and stress you working pawn.'
I sold time's possible joys when I enrolled in the goals
of a two-car-mortgage-anxiety-variety-cargo show.
Raised to believe responsibility was the surest path
to fulfilment availability, I neglected my own math.
I didn't try a pencil but hopped traditional boxed squares
and one by one I landed on time squares aloof, never fair.
Time gave my baby’s first “I love you” away at daycare,
a vague recipient, like the vague I paid causing the incident.
Time given that I might prosper fostered so much lack that
if I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
TO THINK
the frequent mangling
thoughtful tangling
factuation intensified by the love of the wise, is no wiseman at all, but
a commoner sequence going on and on. resplendent is the word,
complex is the verb. and the orderly brain functions that allow your
nerves to feel all is the fall.
ADEC Visions (adecvisions.com)
A distraught driver drove to Dover
Running roughshod in his Rover,
Crushing cultivated clover,
Mangling marigolds, moreover,
Pancaking progeny of plover.
Liquor-laden lies to lover;
Outcome: outed, ousted, over.
Life is the fragile substance
the only that can
disappear in a breath
and make a bluster
in the silence
mangling multiples
hearts
Married by the same pain.
The fires of Hell took to the comic books,
And danced with the best as the pages shook!
Bill and Ted, Godzilla and Hellboy grew,
Amongst ash clouds while demons violently flew.
Hellboy smoked his cigarettes,
Bill and Ted played with an abysmal death.
Godzilla battled Kaiju leviathans,
While readers prayed their foes would wan.
Demons, witches, monsters; hard to beat,
They are used to mangling souls in dusty heat.
Though time and again at the crimson seat...
Our heroes achieve the impossible feat!
When we realize... just paper and staples,
We grab one more of unearthly fables.
1-September-2021
Paisley bow-tie
orange socks
polka-dot knickers
suspenders dangling
Crazy Marvin's
testing 'wonder-drugs'
to get his bank
account jangling
Clouds of smoke
puffs of steam
strange whistles
bells jangling
Delirious, dizzy
all in a tizzy
Marvin's predictably
mangling
A formula for
the tutti-frutti, raspberry
bubble-gum serum
he's angling
To shove down
my throat ~
Help me!
I'm strangling
***** Trump Is Dangling
As usual ***** Trump again is dangling,
And several deals he will be wrangling;
Deep in debt;
Suitors upset;
Minds of many more has been mangling.
Jim Horn
His love indescribable
His presence overwhelming
A child longing to meet its father
Its cry so unbearable
Mangling to the heart; melancholy
A bondage unbreakable
Apart from being crestfallen by the cruel world,
the child croons to its father to hear its cries,
to save it from the cruel world and its temptations.
World has taught its people to misconstrue everything
World which continues to create cross-patched people,
so acrid and easily credulous
Affectation people
desperate to receive miracles, wealth, see signs and wonders;
trapped in our own world, self-centered.
Credulous people we become
easily deluded by the cunning.
Set apart we must become
like servants awaiting their master,
like new born babies opening their eyes for the first time
like the shepherd's sheep
like masterpieces of the master
Disentomb of a diseconomy is a discourse with or without a hat. To lick at a whip is to wave a wavelength overboard. Fifty nine fields and a jet cake then? Oh really must one epitomise the general population of the populace. And grabbing a jar of spawn is merely we the atom of a thought in a pragmatic cake. Position well. And adjust adjudications' adhere. And a whisk of a scone . Baked. Breaded. Beaded. Knead not a knee and knave not a knot. And it is to be ascertained that a beetle bug could travel at over eighty-three kilometres a minute. Minuteness millipedes mangling mingling mangy minutes. And a fat lavender lava prancing. Hahahahaha now early eat. Hahahahaha. Dapidared cushions daring discos. Xxxxx visibility video xxxxxxx carnivorous z portray nit an environment as a dish. Xxxx rationalisation zzz with a p y q
The cat and the dog are wrangling
I see a paw hit the canine.
A row and now a tangling.
I put my bet on the feline.
My job is to see no mangling
and not one hit at all is fine.
The cat is now fandangoing
to put the big dog in line.
How did I get in the jumble?
I try to get out and I fumble.
Hit by the cat, I tumble.
Tit and tat is elemental.
I say to the cat, "be gentle"
It may be the dog is mental.
4/7, 16
The fear in his eyes,
the pain in his voice,
I had to stay with him,
there was never a choice.
whispering secrets in my ear,
a whispering of a secret fear.
Oblivious to any given reality
of abandonment, abuse or of depravity.
a secret fear,
burns silently,
thoughts fall from his mind,
creating air flow,
around his embers,
the flames take hold,
they consume,
they contort,
they exhume,
they distort,
they drive him to the edge of sanity.
A mangling of credible,
a mixture of acceptable,
fear,
an acheivable horror,
to easily overlap,
to bind blind reality.
That which he can not switch off,
that which consumes his soul.
Then when he fears that all is lost,
he comes to me,
he hears my voice,
he has a choice,
and I hold him like never before.
Sleep comes to him,
in waves ,
salvation,
for now.
It isn’t fear of the unknown
That makes me quiver at dying.
It isn’t for sins I’m due to atone.
And it isn’t for tears and crying.
No, it’s the mind-mangling thought
Of being alone without you—
In dreamless emptiness wrought
It chills me through and through.
“You won’’t know it,” some explain.
And legions announce they’re right.
But it’s that idea that primes my pain:
Our love out of touch, out of sight.
It is useless to dwell on it, I know.
But when I embrace your charms
Something catches in my soul
And the future sounds dire alarms.
Invoking restitution beyond mundane range,
the clarity beneath grounds to actuality
towards mangling misconceptions and rapid change
against those who tolerate useless leniency
There's a massive holocaust taking stern pleasure,
tried and executed, shots fired in a haywire
Bodies everywhere, graves in its gruesome feature
the world being betrayed by a top-tiered liar
Fingers at conflict, directions on each angle
degree of unimaginable heights and size,
enough to build itself a malicious castle
filled with agonizing horror and shrilling cries .
To rectify the system from its past transgression,
it has to undergo an intensive process
alter for the better, set cogs into action,
rotating in full circle, gaining full access.
Ahead the bear in sudden motion stands,
focusing on the downed, forgetting me.
His pain now deadened by pure, primal rage,
he is intent on mangling fallen three.
My sleeping conscience suddenly awakes.
My frigid fingers let an arrow fly.
Though they are criminals and I'm the law,
I cannot let these hardened felons die.
My heavy pocket holds a loaded gun,
though using arrows, I had placed it there.
My posse is nearby, they'll hear the shot,
a shame I have to use it on the bear.
Happy that my hunting has not failed,
my job's not done until I see them jailed.
the dark raven
beckons my soul
amidst quaint cackling of
the jackals mangling hisses
I witnessed flowers bloom
as the giant oaks
began to kneel at my feet
I witnessed his face
why I heard his voice
the mauve sky rumbled
the clay ground crumbled
at this beautiful coming
sweet Jerusalem in view
the clouds took a bow
as the sun rose over
the weeping sea
the earth lifted tilted
pouring salted tears into
the ravishing springs
leading to rivers edge
where naught is bathing
my heart on fire
at this coming desire
upon mount olives
Zion is removed
my soul grooved
the master's plans
created in his hands
a holy reunion
of spirit and man
WRITTEN BY YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
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