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Kvothe Nov 2020
Stardust complexities
out in golden blue.
The exacting clockwork of the cosmos ticks
in Kepler seconds.

Chronology here is kept by

Aeons as minutes.

We are just dust
on the gears.

Galactic flecks,
swept up
in the filigree pirouette of an
astronomical timepiece.
Here, but not here.
Q        .
.        U
A        .
.        N
T         .
.        U
M        .
and fleeting.
Feedback would be great!
tonylongo Mar 2020
The City of Brass,
you can still hear it calling....
one last click - then another -
silence.....long, long......
then one more, almost muffled by the tons of sand
"The City of Brass" is a section of the English translation of 1,001 Nights


1. I stand here as nothing more but a head of misplaced gears.

2. sometimes i stumble and trip and fall and my feet get caught in trying to keep up with the world as it keeps spinning and i can't help but to keep spinning with it no matter how much i beg and plead and pray and hope for another chance to land on my feet, and i can’t stop spinning, i can’t stop spinning, i can’t stop spinning, i can’t stop, stop spinning
3. with each passing hour I find another reason to fear the dark. it’s midnight, and I can see the fluttering wings of doubt and regret that lurk outside my window every night. tick-tock. my father’s pounding footsteps and the creaking of stairs sing a symphony of disappointment. tick-tock. the beast in the closet claws at the door, with his raspy breath he screeches about taking my skin and wearing it as his own. tick-tock. the shadow underneath my bed caresses my head, it knows He doesn’t listen to my pleas anymore. tick-tock.

4. but you can’t stop it, it’s inevitable for the gears to rust. the ticking of the clock slows to nothing but a cold metallic silence. watch the decay, as the termites feast and revel in your maplewood walls. try to remember that dust to dust and we are nothing but atoms of carbon and iron. that’s clockwork.
after keaton st. James
Juhlhaus Sep 2019
Animated by twitch of muscle,
Electric spark through live wire,
Humming rail and synapse,
Wheels spin at the fingertips of maybe
An ineffable humorist,
The mastermind of this beautiful prank
Pocketwatch of silver and gold
That explodes in the hand
And leaves you stranded on the platform
The second you go to check the time.
Bhill Aug 2019
Is there no understanding of history today
Are we going into a real Clockwork Orange
Why do we as people, have to repeat and believe
We repeat the worst historical times; blaming them on cycles
Cycles that we create in the name of anything, but the truth
We believe whatever feels right to our own personal thoughts
Beliefs, that are created out of misunderstood words and actions
Why, oh why, can't we ever learn
Why can't we do the right and truthful thing...?

Nobody was injured during this BRAIN RANT!!!
Agree or not...  I don't give a sh}¥
Not really true because this made me cry
Well not cry.  I just laughed so hard I cried
Just can't take the craziness without a little BRAIN RANT!
Sorry....  No, I'm not.  Felt good!

“It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you watch them on a screen.”
― anthony burgess, A Clockwork Orange

Brian Hill - 2019 # 200
Is today's actions a cycle because we can't lean from our own tragic history?
Just a question for you all...
crystallaiz May 2019
it's summer again
i met someone else
he'll become my summer
like you were my spring
in the clockwork seasons
we met and we loved
i used to fill pages with you
now i'm flipping the page
if i loved you
let it become a memory
i really like him now
ryn Mar 2019
A nighttime recess.

An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.

Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.

Rendering me unheard
and vague.

A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.

Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.

Routine like
i always thought i was kind
But what if
i'm just scared
Of being alone?

i always thought i was sweet.
But maybe
i'm just selfish
And want to be loved?

i always thought it was automatic
But maybe
i'm just programmed
To manipulate Them?

i always hoped i could love.
But if not,
Then They don't deserve
The machinations of a clockwork heart.

So maybe I should let the gears
Grow rusty and break down.
At least this way, They'll see
It was just a program...
It was never actually Me.
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