the magnetic pull that draws the connection
it can become weaker once you use the same poles
a friendship built upon the idea of being wanted by others
will always shatter over a little discourse
one wanted to be loved even if it was as a friend
one wanted to use the other's skill for his own great good
we were always meant to fall apart
the signs were there but you chose to ignore
to be used is to be wasted
that was the message from my greatest god
There is no time to waste
Time comes, and time goes
The clock keeps ticking and tocking
Life keeps going
There's no stopping
Stay on your hustle and grind
You can waste some things
But don't waste your time
Your time is precious
Don't just give it away
be selfish
Put your time
To some good use
And time will tell
How much and how can you excel
Waste, no time
Time can't be wasted
Tick tock
You've got to shake it
(Repeat 1x)
Time waits on not a soul
Shift it
Are you in control
You bold
Yes, I am
The clock is ticking
It doesn't stop
It keeps going
The hours , the minutes, and the seconds
Some time prove
Life lessons ??
Time is of the essence
Essence is of the time
You can press play , fast forward, then rewind,
You can also run it back
Time will put you on the right track ??
Waste, no time
Time can't be wasted
Tick tock
You've got to shake it
(Repeat 1x)
Time comes
Time goes
Know that you hold
The power in your hand
Make it count
Have a plan
Waste, no time
Time can't be wasted
Tick tock
You've got to shake it
(Repeat until chorus fades)
Written by Concetta Hardnett
08/29/2025
Have you ever had an ‘I’ve wasted my whole life’ moment
If you have, or if you can close your eyes and imagine one…
You don’t necessarily have to be 'that old,’ though
you may sob harder at the age of dwindling returns
… The pain is soul-searing: you’ve poured your heart
into a child, a close relative, a relationship, a marriage
and now you’ve been left irretrievably high and dry,
so you have failed… miserably...
There’s no one can ‘coach you’ through waves of despair
stomach-churning nausea, ready to devour you
No ‘pep talk magic’ to revive your spirits, to restore your equilibrium
‘Pep talks’ are for performers; you are not acting, your pain is real
But there is this: It's All Good. For you.
~ Consider the Source.
I wish I could make you leave as fast as you arrived.
But if I could do that I would not be me.
5 days in and I knew you meant something.
10 days in and you were all that I wanted.
A month and a half in I asked on a whim.
A month and a half out I realized you no longer care.
10 days out and I'm grieving not for a cat.
5 days out and I wish we had never met.
But if I could do that I would not be me.
I wish I could make you love me as I loved you.
A morning walk, amidst the trees, beneath a sky of grey.
The sound of crisp from frozen ground breaks silence in the air.
I love the feeling that I get on such a winter day,
where light through all the empty branches somehow takes me there.
It makes me dream of times in spring where newness comes again.
Can’t help envisioning the grey transforming into green.
But then it never ceases there, I picture until when
the trees before me transform til they’re so inspiring.
I see them as they ought to be, in worlds of better fortune.
I see them as they want to be, but seldom are they here,
where every branch is color filled, it’s truly mesmerizing.
It makes me both happy and sad as I am standing there.
This world we’re in. The lives we lead, they follow this same story.
So often they are so much less than what they’re meant to be.
‘Twould only take a bit of Heaven to change them to glory,
but all too often we’re stuck in… the grey of winter trees.
I thought it was bad
when I couldn’t do
the things
I needed to do—
when food became a foreign ritual,
and sleep was a fractured dream.
When the laundry piled up,
silent in the corner,
and the trash remained
untouched,
an offering to my inertia.
I thought
that
was the worst it could get.
But here I am—
begging myself
to move,
to feel
something,
to drive,
to breathe
in the world outside,
to see the sunset
and let it fill me.
And yet,
I can't
even get out of bed.
I want to.
I want it so badly,
my soul aches for it.
I would give
anything
to rise,
to feel
the pulse of living
again.
But the hours pass—
slipping,
swimming
like quicksilver,
too fast,
too distant.
Where did they go?
Where did I go?
Four hours,
fours hours spent
pleading with a self
that cannot respond,
crying,
aching for the strength
that has abandoned me.
I cannot move.
I am here,
still,
wasted.
Waiting is not fun when you’re on the run
They’re things to do before the day is done.
Daily tasks are like a mountain to climb
But it seems we are always short of time.
Waiting time is by no means wasted time
If we use this time our life’s pump to prime.
A pump that is not primed will soon run dry
Those always on the run soon fall and die.
Waiting provides time for much-needed rest
So, we can always perform at our best.
Use the time to meditate while you wait
and you will walk life with a steady gait.
Patience, an essential character trait,
can only be formed as we learn to wait.
So, stop the chase, get out of the rat race,
and live life with gratitude and grace.
We bare of human; sic-ning'
Planned these decade long schemes?
Some mad-sters of eugenics
In bid to cap our dynamics.'
All based on their (spatial distancing)
And murder as ever
Of conscious never
With extremisam
Of which I am no fan forever.!
A man all for function, not form,
Went to get done a nose-based norm,
The doc to his job rose
And fixed a doggy nose
That breathed full and felt nicely warm.
Yet, mad with his big mouth,
He cursed it and looked south,
In teacup was wasted his storm!
______________________
Tongue-in-cheek | 12.01.2016 | humour
Worry
changes nothing
tomorrow unmoved
Forfeiting
the gift
— of a present unclaimed
(Dreamsleep: October, 2024)
I paint my feelings
To you, you ink yours back,waste
Of feelings and ink.
He Don’t go outside he’s got too much fear
He’s brain is fried from weed and Gear
He’s got no kids and hes got no wife,
he’s got no friends he’s got no life
He’s got trippy tunes running round he’s mind
The things he’s lost he’will never find
He’s 25 but he looks real old
He’s skin grey and he’s hands are cold
There’s a shadow running through he’s days
No purple heart just purple haze
He can’t change he’s ways can’t win the fight
He knows it’s wrong but it feels so right
He can’t find cure he can’t break the spell
He’s passenger on a train to hell
He’s no good to the world he’s lost he’s way
He’s a burden on society
No respect and no concern
When he walks by the heads will turn
He’s bodys thin his skin is grey
He looks like he won’t last the day
??
Don't worry about days you've wasted make the ones count that you still have
Make them sweet
For eventually you have to eat them
Make them few
For eventually you have to need them
Should you choose to use them
Just be brief
Should you choose to use them
Be clear
Like patience
Words are hard to summon
In moment of urgency
In the heat of an argument
Words are gems
Need not be wasted
Prune them like stems
For being succinct is appreciated
I have seen the destitute in their health and company,
More joyful than a lonely king languishing on his throne:
On his deathbed, you see him defeatedly lay,
With not a single reason to stay.
His cure wasn’t served in a golden chalice,
And his gloomy prison was his mighty palace.
Nor were the beasts of fate taken by his knight,
Thus was weakened by the attack of night.
He assumed he could buy respect and love,
But his erroneous thought was not from above.
Perishing like darkness by the break of dawn,
Folly stole his youth; he's a dying fawn.
But despite all ills, he remains there still,
On bed, waiting for destiny's ride downhill.
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