Tick. Tick. Tick.
I hear the sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Unconsciously, my movements match the sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Then I stop and stand. Lost. Numb.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The beauty of betrayal (is that what this is?) is that it leaves no doubt.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
There is nothing more.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 3:47 AM UTC
His eyes were bleary
His chest it felt tight
He was bone weary
Just didn’t feel right
But work was demanding
His attention not to stray
Although he was knackered
He worked anyway
For 72 hours each week in and out
He worked on the night shift building cranes to ship out
He built them with pride, his loyalty did show
Through the quality of work and his years on the go
But they shoot horses, don’t they
High up on a crane
It did happen one night
His knee gave a twist
His heart got a fright
He worked through the pain
To the end he did stay
Only after twas done
To his knee his eyes strayed
The knee it was swollen, a great pain in its core
The skin was all puffy, to walk was a chore
The doc said, “It’s nowt--tis but a strain
Get back to work; soon you’ll be right as rain”
But then they shoot horses, don’t they
Years they did pass
But the pain did not leave
So he favoured the leg
With a mind not to grieve
But as will happen
If you must climb like a kid
The other knee went
Much like the first did
Back to the doctor—a new one who found
That with time unattended, injuries compound
“Both knees are torn; and surgery they need
“You must have lighter duties; to your boss we will plead”
But they shoot horses, don’t they.
Back at work
The man plead his case
Even though he was hurt
Could they please find a place?
He’d make hoses
Or sweep up the floor
Work on computers
Any task, any chore
But the boss stood firm, the man was broken you see
No use for him now, no ear for his pleas
“There is work to be done, to that we attest
But I only want you when you’re at your best.”
Because they shoot horses, don’t they.
Still a young lad
His career is cut quick
By two knees gone bad
And a boss who’s a *****
What happens now
To this good-hearted guy
Whose belief in loyalty
Is what led him awry
Well, they shoot horses, don’t they?
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 1:58 AM UTC
Shall we dance? He did ask
When he appeared in the night
As she looked in his eyes
They did give her such fright
Dark like jet his eyes were
His face sharp and shrill
When he reached for her arm
Up her spine ran a chill
We shall dance. He did say
As he reached for her hand
I’d rather not, she replied
Tho she knew his command
Pulled up from her chair
Into his arms she did find
That she had no control
Like a child in a bind
His hand stroked her face
And the demons awoke
As he pulled her too close
She felt as if she would choke
First a hand on her body
As she watched it did swell
Then a hand on her heart
Which immediately fell
Like a flash came the fear
Hopelessness and remorse
Loneliness and despair
Came upon her with force
Her feet were like lead
Her heart ached with such weight
But she knew she was caught
That there was no escape
She’d have to pray
While she danced this long dance
She’d be whole at the end
To give life one more chance
For her partner she knew
He’d come for her before
Neither first time nor last
That they’d crossed this vast floor
Depression he’s called
The chemical kind
He’s been the master of her
All her life time to time
She knows he will leave
And the dance will be through
Until the next time he comes
calling out of the blue
So she goes through the motions
Trying with all her might
To keep her eyes focused
On the one who’s her light
Some day it’ll be over
The dance will happen no more
A brighter day will soon dawn
When she walks through God’s door
Until then she survives
With life’s hope on a wing
The dance it will end
And some day she will sing
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 1:50 AM UTC