#pendulum
Someone calling in the dark,
a tik-tok oscillation unlock.
It aches my head.
It’s not me. Stop.
Wait… is it hypnosis?
A pendulum,
relaxing the inner void,
deepening focus,
a subconscious
never felt before—
a sleep shrine
built inside the sublime.
Or is it the eyes—
blue movements,
used by a creature
to torment, to erase, till madness—
the thing one must never see.
Two paths to choose:
awakening from the dream,
or concealed horror,
where eyes remain open—
and one is gone forever.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 11:32 AM UTC
To sustaining tones, the material
world draws a trail in smooth loops
from a bottle hanging askew
on its navel string and running
empty over the blue rug
of awareness
of all who are there
A pendulum thought
More and more light shines
through the bottle and the wind
in our senses
wipes out the patterns
we have repeated
into a magical eight
of insight into the infinite
course of our lives
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:20 AM UTC
I’m suspended between the moment,
I first tasted my tears.
And the last time I felt a warm breeze.
How is that fair?
The minutes always pass too fast,
leaving bullet holes filled with loose memories
And the songs I listened to at thirteen.
I can’t move forward,
Only backward—until I reach the end.
Take my days as quickly as you’d like,
But let me live them.
Stop reminding me
How little I could have left.
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 8:54 AM UTC
once you take that first step down the path
the decision has been set upon and you cannot go back
now it is up to trust, that invisible demon or angel in waiting
right or wrong the pendulum will swing in either direction
time a curse or a blessing guided by a compass
beholden to no one it has its own destiny
for love once betrayed is a vengeful enemy
setting off a cornucopia of storms of anger
unleashing the torments only goddesses can bestow
their ire ****** forth like a thunderous lighting strike
wishing to smite those that have broken her heart
there is no hiding from the maelstrom your betrayal has unleashed
bringing embarrassment to those that inhabit castles
a dire misjudgment in a moment of voluptuous temptation
is there now regret to having succumbed to human wontedness
it would appear so, hands now tied striding towards the inevitable
step by step moving closer to the sentence handed down
the walled fortress now a corral with no escape
and then I am there, she and a legion of men in waiting
a gilded sword sharp as any in the kingdom prepared
her golden hair blowing in the wind, delicate features revealed
utter beauty astonishing in the backdrop of a scorching sun
how could I have traded this for a night of passion with another
now I am pushed down to kneel before her my heart racing wildly
she is judge and jury and as she draws back the sword
I wonder if there is one morsel of sympathy in her repertoire
so I close my eyes and ponder why has my lust brought me here
all the whilst listening for the whoosh that will end my days or not
Andreas Simic©
Apr 30, 2022
Apr 30, 2022 at 8:50 PM UTC
Tonight I’ve felt the switch go off fifteen hundred times
Swinging like a pendulum, crawling through the vines
I spoke in tongues of laughter in the fields of chlorimine
My bones are broken bruises as i'm missing you as mine
But I don’t want to go back to you.
I look up at squinting blue eyes in an autumn meadow
Stare at the widows in the aquamarine sky
I’m tired of it’s blinding rays
I'm tired of begging myself to be
More stable
More subtle
More sweet
Like a Valencia picture tacked up on to a cardboard wall
When I’m cracking around the edges
Of being the woman who I’m not again
I think I’ll just cry tonight
Through the cravings of my mania
On fascination street
******* and alive
Singing by the ocean
Trying to survive
I think I’ll just die tonight
They always leave me when I’m silent
Swerving on the highways
wild and fragile
Fading in to outer space
Losing track of time
Tonight I’ve felt the switch go off fifteen hundred times
Swinging like a pendulum, crawling through the vines
But I don’t want to go back to you.
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 12:48 PM UTC
The pendulum is a bull shark.
The hour of the savior is a pregnant bride's swan dive into the water.
The mighty mile is a figure 8 in the scoot of
non slop socks across the bare linoleum.
Blood and bright are the redness of the blanket.
divine terror at one hart beat per hour.
Finger nails green and black against a back drop
of the brightest, bluest eyes you've ever seen;
deep pools of liquid light that will shine when least expected.
And the obligation isn't one at all,
for when i breath in,
you breath out.
And when I gave consent 1000 years ago times 10-
you performed the exorcism under the shroud of my amnesia
and the spotted light from a crystal disco ball.
Shards of light moved upon the face of all the space between the stars.
My heart was in the highlands but now its in your hands.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 8:15 PM UTC
A concept of self
strengthens with wealth
The rules they do change
when our histories made
Is perception an image of taste
Where to begin when
the pendulum swings
For all of our sins
start from within
Can we see beyond
our own gates
Does right become
wrong on judgement day
Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
Gazing through the window at generations of flowers in the garden of her long-departed youth.
The pendulum of time passes in consonance with the rocking of her chair until she smiles her last breath.
©
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
Fleeting thoughts of possibilities
Sometimes are the worst company
Fleeting thoughts of possibilities
Sometimes are all that I need
Why does life feel so fluid
I cannot seem to put my finger on
What is right and what is wrong
But I’m just another soul rewriting the song
What can give life can ****
Hell, dehydration and drowning
It’s absolutely insane the way the pendulum swings
All this time while knowing
My compass could point north
But is that my bearing?
Is that the way I am Steering?
With my neck careening...
And my ears without hearing...
I press on,
I move forward,
I don’t stop
I am tenacity
I am raw unfiltered determination
Unsure where to go, but without defecation
I press on
I will figure it out
I always figure it out
Yup, no doubt(...well, maybe a little)
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 7:20 PM UTC
The swing in my heart,
Is a TROUBLESOME thing,
For sometimes I cry
And sometimes I sing.
Yet as much as I'd like
To be cheerful and glad,
There are days when quite often
I'm sorry and sad.
Just as fro can be to
And left can be right,
As high is to low
So dark is to light.
And out is for in
The way up is for down,
Remember a smile's
Just a back-to-front frown.
Yes, what keeps me sane
When the going gets tough,
Is like Yin and Yang
So are smooth times and rough.
The swing in my heart
Is a MARVELLOUS thing,
For sometimes I cry
But sometimes I sing.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
I am the cuckoo clock,
Precise,authentic,steadfast as a rock.
All day long,
Tick tock, tick tock goes my song.
Hung on the wall,
In the main hall,
Tick tock, tick tock, tick,
Not a wink,
My pendulum swings to and fro,
As I view people come and go.
On the dot of the hour,
My cuckoo slides in and out of the door,
Chirps a lovely cuckoo call,
Young and old in the hall,
They cheer all.
I am their cuckoo clock,
A piece of artistic work,
My master's pride,
The family's guide,
To their various routines,
For many many seasons I have been,
On their wall,
In the main hall.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
Reflections of the sad soul,
when the shouts are unheard.
From the beauty of the pain within, the skies bleed red.
Water cleanses the body,
the soul is ripped apart though.
Solitude and Isolation is a Pendulum,
as it swings to and fro...
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
this feeling is of a pendulum swinging
side to side
as if it cannot seem to make up it's mind.
the feeling tends to contradict itself by
dreaming of
self discovery
and longing for
self destruction.
thought of not understanding it's truth
has been locked up in the back
simply because never knowing why is
.
.
.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 8:10 AM UTC
When I walked in I didn't know what to expect.
Each room highlighted in light.
A oral tradition. To make ourselves at home upon request.
In reciprocation we do.
The rooms we gather in, the ones we walk past.
The objects we fill to take up space.
The rooms a clear reflection of Spring.
The molding painted white.
I was told that some rooms are not to be visited.
Everything has it's season and this isn't one of them.
Placing blame on the rooms.
I want to explore them most I said.
The ones that go unseen.
The things we rarely shine light to.
The places films of dust continue to grow.
These are some of the best places to go.
The beauty of things we walk past day to day.
The smile unknown destinations can bring.
Cultivating the ideas we keep cluttered.
Gasping for air.
These are the rooms I want to explore most.
The parts of you that you strictly keep to yourself.
Only when you are comfortable to share these rooms with me.
To kiss the floor with our feet.
To dwell in the past staring into our future.
We are the pendulums trapped inside the clock
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 12:10 AM UTC
Those who choose to dig deeper
must be willing to accept the dirt as truth
and the mess as proof
The only resolve is sharing tha loot
with those who seek not to be aloof
those who can recycle
improve reuse
Otherwise your pursuit becomes futile and vanity in roots
That holds you trapped in a place that never bore fruit.
Like a Pirate
Tied to a ship
who's sunken into
frozen winter drifts
Yelling at everyone who passes by
Uneffected Bitter Colder Less Productive
An Ivory Tusk Burned in private on public telivision
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
The pendulum of time swings back and forth
and touches all those who regard it’s worth.
There isn’t any indication of when it will stop
because none can foretell that time of the clock.
It includes all living creatures that move along
and there are some who recall it with a song.
In so many ways they’re somehow involved
as they know without it nothing gets resolved.
______________________
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
My mind isn't a one way track
The weak train who is now almost giving up
From the back and forth ride
Decisions are made only after
Thinking about it a 100 times
After my actions are done
I think about it a 100 times more
The weak train who is now almost giving up
The train wants to stop
The train wants to rest
The train doesn't know itself
The train asks if he is indeed a train
The train thinks he is no longer a train
but a pendulum
from those thoughts always swinging back and forth
The doctor says thinking hardly is a good thing
Inorder to come up with a good decision
But doctor
what you dont know is
the train still hasnt made a decision
it's mind is still full of question
running back and forth
till now, it still hasn't reached its destination
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
i cannot be loved,
to you,
i am a windful thought in the back of your above,
take me as the lung,
existence fully in love,
like a song i would be,
for you i want to,
be that tune,
in the watevers of your wars
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
back and forth
high and low
but how high can a Pendulum go?
how high can its cold steel float?
and just how low
will my Pendulum slow
to a gentle end.
No regard to wind,
only to the momentum within
a single steel shine
of the Pendulum's frigid, orderly chime.
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 9:15 PM UTC
Engulfed in fear
She stood before me
Shedding off
The ragged gown
Of her childhood
That weighed her down
For 20 years
Embracing the thrill
She flew into me
Revealing
Her naked scars
and truths
That somehow
Made her shine
More beautifully.
Reaching the
Deepest place
That we had ever been,
Our tiptoes grazing
The blazing fire
That simultaneously
Sparked our
Bodies and our minds.
A universal understanding
That we've finally
Made it here together,
Hearts dripping
like
hot metal,
Synchronized souls
No longer lost in between
The swings of
The pendulum.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 2:57 AM UTC
Since I discovered this place
Since I took up that old mask again
To hide my boyish face
At least for an hour or two each week
I feel at home
Almost not alone
In a place where I may not belong
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
A pendulum, rocking to the heartbeat of eternity
In time, in tune, in step with the world
Inside of the footprint of this city street
Like a whisper in the passing wind
Or a whistle nearby yet unseen
Striding forward with a massive force
Unstoppable as the former me
This is the essence of my own demise
And the love which grew too strong and too quickly
In order to keep my song alive
And yet through this I've become an entity
So I will rock for eternity, back and forth atop the hill
And also in the flatlands in the east
Where the whispers were first heard to me
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC