the pendulum swings
s i l e n t l y
inside of it's chest,
the iron tongue
that can no longer move,
but the brass and copper wheels
have come to a rest,
and silence
curls its head like a cat.
they measured life
in little mouthfuls before,
dividing sunshine
from the encroaching shade;
for all our days
and all of the nights
that set a metronome
to save a warden
of the promises made
now the time beats
o u t s i d e
and spills out of service.
beyond the measure of years,
beyond the ringing of bells,
those seconds gone
never gain their temporary title,
breaking free
from the shackles of their prime.
sleep on, old custodian
in your wooden shell,
the rust has given way
to your frantic heart.
there are no more hours left
for you to narrate
where tick and tock
decay to rust.
Hang ups,
I’ve got plenty of those
Like a phone with
too many busy signals,
I couldn’t get through to you.
I think the number you gave me was out of service.
You said, “Dial me up”
but the damn phone was a push button.
I called long distance,
the operator said
“Put another quarter in.”
Sadly I only had one thin dime. I wonder if I should have called collect?
All along you had my number. You could have,
given me a ring. After-all I was the marrying kind.
It seems my dial tone was slightly out of tune??
I scratched your number out of my little black book. It was time to find another connection.
I could say I don’t remember you, but that would be a lie.
You are the crush that never made it to speed dial.
I promised to be home by Christmas
To see my kid and be with my family
But i didn't know the journey ahead
Would be my last
I thought i'd eat those fresh buns by morning
Now its noon and i've not arrived
And my phone has gone cold
I'm out of service
I hoped i could beat the traffic
by overtaking the traffic ahead
only to veer off the road
As i was avoiding to hit a kid crossing
I couldn't let myself hit the kid
I couldn't brake in time either
The kid looked terrified
and in that moment i saw my own kids
It's evening and still no sign
Everyone must be worried by now
Its gone dark on my side
and there's no way to ever come home
If you get to hear me now
Its sad i never got one last time
To say goodbye to you
Not a day goes by without thinking of you all
The PO£T
Once upon a death or less zzzZZZzzz
Where quieter than 528Hz resides
In a glance, in a jar, in a star as far
Where the gaze is clearly glossy
Candles take a chance out there
Somewhere between nice and nicer
Glass breaks at the thought of rain
Tornadoes blow out the final match
Babies breath would have sufficed
Once upon a time upon the dice
And isn’t it peculiar to say
What “out of service” means
When placed on everything
Fallen into darkness out of range
Out of flame upon the rain
Authors Note: 528 Hz Sound Frequency Love tone, miracle tone, and frequency of transformation are all names for this frequency. Being exposed to 528 Hz sound waves for a long period of time has been scientifically proven to reduce anxiety and stress and create a more harmonious state of being. Helps UV light absorption and DNA repair.
strange these people
with elevator out of service face ...
they would like to climb higher
but they stand still. In life...
Strange heart, Concorde face
people who would like to ascend to heaven
but who never realized the true height... of life...!..!
If you’re a certain age, I’ll bet
That stuck inside your brain
The numbers of your telephone
From youth must still remain.
For way back when you memorized
That sequence, it did stick,
Like Velcro, to your brain cells;
You can summon it real quick.
There once was lots of room in there
For things we learned by heart –
Addresses, passwords, ID codes
And credit cards, to start.
But over time, the Velcro wears
And things will not adhere
Yet strangely, numbers from the past
Still stand out, loud and clear.
For all who may have dialed
UL 6 – 2955,
That number’s out of service
But in me it did survive.
When grandpa D comes to visit, he smokes until we cough
We also have to say “We know you are here, you can stop smoking”
My father has been supposedly “gone” for nine years.
I see him monthly, checking my flowers, to see if I am watering them.
One day we heard the kitchen cupboards slamming.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
I was terrified. My husband and I were they only ones in the house.
What is that? I asked him.
He said “I think it was my mother. She used to slam the cupboards.”
I peeked out. There was nothing there.
After my mother passed, we waited for a signal but did not get one.
Until I needed medical treatment, and finally got it.
Isn’t this your old phone number? My husband asked me.
I looked at it.
It was my parents’ number for over sixty years.
It keeps calling me, he told me.
I dialed the number.
It has been out of service for over seventeen months.
Hi Mom.
From The Saddest Depths Of Bitter Despair
Within this heart love born
once beloved now scorn
fills each little crevice
life seems out of service
bitter cold turns the wind
dark sets its pains to send
Alas! Loneliness reaps
broken shards into heaps
while moonlight will not shine
on these blues I now dine
and the aches seem endless
here, I am now friendless
dark on this soul assails
nobody hears my wails
In this chasm I soft weep
So, so cold, dark and deep
Within this heart love born.
Once beloved, now scorn.
R.J. Lindley,
Dark rhyme
( From, In for a penny, in for a pound )
out of sight
out of mind
out of sorts
out of touch
out of luck
out of service
out of nowhere
out of here
out of control
out of it
out of time
out of ideas
out of words
I'm too nervous to resurface,
it's not that I'm worthless
or don't want to work for this,
my motive sits motionless.
Can I bring it to your attention
I need an intervention
to save me from selfish behavior,
a salvation of circumstances
serving me chances to be my own saviour,
challenging this circling hell that prances
unnerving me a certain future
of out of service hope and mischance
where I can't sense my humour.
I'm not stood with hands out
looking for handouts,
I just need that first time wind up
to get the engine ticking
and give reserves corrupt
and vigorous in control of my mind a good kicking.
It's as though I'm not the one that drives
this life I ride,
it's as though I'm not one with any drive,
a life without pride,
but I believe I can once again strive
if I find my stride,
I will breathe and bleed myself alive,
I might be lost but I've not died.
The Land's Passion
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
A cloud of darkniss
A flag of empty
South Africa a
State of dispair
In hell over our
Sea's , mountain's , ground's
Our soul's are dough
We are not rising
He is corruption
He makes distruction.
South Africa out of service
A president sour
Blaming other people
The poor people
Their income stolen
For the dynasty
They live in marble
Taking our coins
In favour tender
He giggles louder
Our land of gold
Passionate in hearts
Will not be sold
By one man rogue
The people rise
Their souls unite
The time has come
To dismiss the rot
Who rapes our Land
The people's wrath
A time of anger
At boiling point
Our jubilation waiting
In the land
His stealing hand
Our greater stand.
The passion when
Our land is healed.
The escalator’s very steep,
Enough to make me nervous.
There’ll be a lot of stairs to climb
When it is out of service.
The platform’s bright and spacious
And the walls are filled with art,
Mosaics well worth checking out
Before you must depart.
The surfaces are gleaming,
Clean as anything brand-new.
The bathrooms might be also;
I declined to take a view.
The subway that we’ve waited for
Is really up and running,
Results of which New Yorkers find
Miraculous and stunning.
I wonder, though, how long we’ll see
This Eden underground,
For nothing fresh remains that way
When mankind does abound.
The awkward feeling of being late. Anxiously waiting, anticipating, and expecting... Lost in this moment; temporarily out of service. The bus stops here and we still missed it. A bad start to any day. Patience allows this to pass, but this moment lasts. Endless effects from domino blocks that you and you alone mastered its creation. Wasting a beautiful mind with useless propaganda. Moments of weakness are followed by the stalker named Genius. This guy is completely untimely. He can be counted on; only to show up at the wrong time. One hour late.
Early 2015
Creator of The Stalker Named Genius.
Which will follow this post.
"REQUIEM FOR 8:34AM"
my phone is out of service
today my internet bill is due
my blanket is unfolded
my cell phone charger
is white
two new eyes
two old eyes
there are no cars
in my driveway
birds circle my clock
my love doesn't grow old
it grows up
today a baby was born
By: Chicano Eddie
8-10-2016
Climbing five floor stairs
Everyday in the work place
Out of service lifts
Favorite high heels
Being replaced by flat shoes
Until lifts are fixed
7-13-2016
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