how tempting and near irresistible
tuff hind me gaze drawn to the digital clock
chronograph constantly staring me back
from any electronic gizmo permanent at dock
side of the moon, where try as I might

to wrench letting thine myopic eyes alight and flock
affixed to time piece glaring at this mwm adamant
to become reminded of the passage ad hoc
of hours and minutes, essentially a contrived
modus operandi integrated forsaking those nada ****
within western civilization countless

hundreds years ago prescient insightful outliers, did lock
up present, whence practitioners of infant science,
handy dandy blues clues tinkerers ironed out nock
with an arrow poised to strike bullseye as precision
  
got perfected vis a vis dis cover for prefects pock
who devised a system to partition planetary revolution
of earth around the tilted axis; affected, devised, perfected
refined,contrivances to allocate equitable quotidian blocks
as dawn to dusk requisitioned some paradigm
to systematize how to know where to rendezvous

for risqué monkey business or maintain favorable rapport
with an employee/ though prior to the precision crafted timekeepers,
an innate sense inherent within the madding crowds
whose knead to acquire the basic commodities
slowly manifested into a more definitive precision
crafted gizmos as the natural circadian
sleep and wake cycles rhythm co opted

into forced system necessitating imposition on body electric
when advent of industrialization mandated
a work force to be jostled awake by town hall clangorous chimes
revving generic speedy Gonzalez to high tail their derriere
at manufacturer lest bread winner replaced by another eager desperado
to escape becoming DIRT POOR,

but pocket just enough legal tender to survive
a hardscrabble existence incessant inquiry
per the most asked question (*** hide from how big iz your ****)
turns upon the matter where space/time continuum
hums along with a silent tick tock
as if stone deaf, yet impossible to avoid the imprimatur
where air tight schedules disallow any wiggle room

inducing this *** spire ring Telly Tubby – Tinky-Winky wannabe)
accidentally bumping into Boobas, and while at a standstill
drops the urgent question "What time is it?",
without pausing to reflect what thee is and/or it iz comprende?

Cleaved of life
flesh pealed, unused.

Now sitting hollow,
a moment is always passing.

Entombed in hourly reminders
that its time is fleeting .

I'm just a moment,
That can last an eternity.

A precious second,
That's worth more your jewelries.

A petite minute,
That can change your life

A blunt hour,
That throws out all the lies.

A weightless week,
That fills all your time.

A merry month,
That can challenge your prime.

And a yonder year,
That's so close yet so far.

Apparently,
They have not read any good poems.
Or maybe,
They have not read any good sagas.
Probably,
They have just seen breakups.
Sadly.

Literature - the written word,
It stays forever.
I love my "The 'Angel?' Series",
It is like a diamond.

And I love my story "7 Seconds",
It is my diadem.