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Time comes and time goes. Timed perfectly, sometimes.
It times its tricks, in time. Like well timed rhythmic rhymes.
For time’s no time-thread, or a time-tangible thread.
Yet time spins time-webs into each time-plagued head.

Whispers from before time, in the time-chiming clock,
That aching tick tock, That promises time will not stop.
Might time be a stream? No, times flow is no stream.
So, time, times itself through seams in our time-faulted dreams.

Timed moments count beats in time, till the moment time snaps.
Then just in time, time resets, and traps our time in timed traps.
For time just times its mask, in a time-shadowed guise.
sometimes, time keeps us blind in a maze of time-layered lies.

Through time’s timely weaving, as time unwinds our  mind.
Strictly timed, are moments we live for, never found in good time.
For time isn’t timeless, though time insists that it is.
Time’s tricks are simply timed tricks, with no time-starts or ends.

Timed pauses in space and time, seemingly timely at their best,
But time steals those perfect times from the time that we invest.
Yet time in its time-vault, keeps no time. No, not at all,
Time rises through ages, timing ‘till its time-laden fall.

When time times our time, it feels like time, this time is real.
Yet ill-timed illusions distort the times that we can feel.
For time isn’t timed timely, nor timed to our tune.
Time is bound by time,  like the timed oribiting of the moon.

In times of confusion, we time what time says isnt there,
As Time sifts through our grasp of time. like time, itself, is air.
Yet time will timely tell that, Sometimes, time is a myth.
Oh, the time wasted I've spent, believing in times timed wits.

And that’s assuming time is flexible, by assuming time is fixed.
And on that note,  this is all assuming, that time even exists.
Gandy Lamb Feb 2019
Albert Einstein once said
that the Gorvanian constant of
Uranium-235 was 1.6*10^-41.
Well,
Albert Einstein died.
I always liked physics. RIP ALBERT EINSTEIN. TODAY MARKS THE 16TH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS DEATH!
Marg Balvaloza May 2018
sa kalaliman ng iyong pagtingin,
hindi maarok,
damdamin ko'y muntik nang malunod
aking nakita, ang ‘yong pagkatao
sa'yong mga mata,
mga matang kay ganda,
mga matang nababalot ng kahiwagaan at pagsinta.

sa kalaliman na iyong pagtingin,
aking narinig, yaong mga salita,
mga salita na bago pa man sambitin ng ‘yong mga labi
ay narinig na ng aking puso,
na tila nagbigay kabuluhan sa damdamin
at nagdulot ng kapayapaan sa aking pusong balisa;
mga matang kay ganda
na tila nangungusap,
wala, ni ano, kahit anong salita—–
binasag ng ‘yong katahimikan, kaguluhan sa’king isipan.

sa kalaliman na iyong pagtingin,
mundo ay tumigil,
nabihag ang damdamin,
aking nadama, dalisay na pagkatao,
sa'yong mga mata,
mga matang kay ganda
mga matang nagrerepresenta, sa makulay na buhay,
mistulang mga krayola
na nagbibigay kulay
sa malamlam at matamlay /// kong pamumuhay.

© LMLB
"He looks at me and his brown eyes tell his soul."
P.S. "Balintataw" is the tagalog word for "Pupil."

05.02.18
NRIKO Jan 2018
I've killed god,
so nobody knows where
she is-
But if the angels are good and
the demons
they decide to strip me from all
forgiveness
and who I had coveted in flesh
and psyche-

Maybe within her eyes:
I'll finally find,
I'll finally hold,
I'll finally see,
that nirvana I once
caressed with blood-dipped fingers,
blooming and blooming,
oozing and oozing
out of her pupils
I never noticed had
already began to dilate.

Dilating and dilating-
dipping and dipping-
digging and digging-
for something that only
surfaced once.

However,
I had dipped my fingers too deep;
too intimately,
and in a school bell's single ring,
I had gone and taken us
from heaven to hell.

- eozyoh. 14.12.17/5.1.18

— The End —