white foliage
white trees
white day
and the clock goes on
and the clock goes on
and death on the way

white sun
white rain
white night
and the clock goes on
and the clock goes on
and the darkness is on the way

it's not too far
it's not too far
to live a poet
it's not too far
it's not too far
he can see it all

and the clock goes on
and the clock goes on
and the darkness is on the way
and the clock goes on
and the clock goes on
and death on the threshold

12.07.18

Tick

In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Death is but a tortoise in this timeless race
With every slow tick and echoing tock
Forever keeping its careless pace

With so much to do I stay awake
With one foot in front of the other
Running with knees and feet that ache
Time feeds worms a salutary supper

In the end we must lie and nap
Embrace eternal slumbers deadlock
We are just hares caught in times trap
In the tyranny of the measuring clock

Tock

Startled at the turn of twelve
Not any other time
Her cultured tones sound so amazed
Before the expected chime

What is it that's shocked her so
Whatever could be the matter
Is it the echo of some past time
Or some rival chronometer

At the third stroke she'll be oh so precise
And disclose the appointed hour
She'll watch each minute slowly disappear
My most reliable of voyeurs.

silently puppeteering,
ceaselessly poised under our noses and over our heads,
most visible when crawling by,
and too often moving much too fast.
time is an imposing figure,
intimidating and all too present.

yet it is also just the ticking of a clock,
seconds between minutes,
minutes between hours.
clouds slowly drifting across the sky,
the rising of the sun and moon,
generous and unhampered.

and is it fair to give it our burdens?
to use it as a pocket in which we neatly tuck away our problems?
time is not our enemy,
but neither is it our friend.
we ask it to heal all wounds
but time has no cures and no sympathy.
time has no intentions.

and so we ponder and debate and ask it for favors,
and time watches and says nothing.

My morning walks,
Comprises of
Colours and rocks,
Different people of all sorts,
Athletes and stars ,
Mama's with carts,
Models and aunties,
Talking about making tarts,
Buisness men, and old friends
Politicians and girl-friends.
Some walk backward,
Some march foward,
Some run and have fun,
Some also worship the sun.
There are chickens and kittens,
not wearing mittens
And all sorts of  things completely hidden
My morning walk,
Always does rock,
Sets me smiling around the clock.

There's a clock above my head and a calendar inside my heart
Ticking away the seconds, checking off the days
37 minutes til school's out today, 2 more weeks with my friends
Before they leave
Before I go off to college
Before I'm miles away from everyone I care about (and even farther from the one that I love)
Before everything I've ever known changes, ceases to exist

The ticking is incessant, it echoes in my skull
Reminding me how little time I have left
How I'm sitting here counting seconds
And wasting all of them
It makes me want to stop the clock, rip the calendar out of my heart, shatter time itself
But I'm not brave enough or stupid enough or clever enough for that
So instead I sit here like a self-made bomb, watching the fuse burn faster and faster
And waiting for my life to implode

When you want nothing
More than to stop time it goes
By even faster