"clocked" poems
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick
The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.
Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants
Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat
And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space
And calculating the intangible slope
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
I was out late with friends when I first saw her.
It hit midnight, she was just waking up.
She was just getting out of bed.
It was four in the morning.
She was putting make up on.
She was getting dressed after morning ***
Five in the morning she clocked into work.
She cracked the horizon.
I saw her first.
The first in the neighborhood.
I saw the weekend first.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
It's as if a storm blew in, torrential rains, metal bending winds and standing in the eye was you.
Waves crashing. People locked up for days, hours, as time danced around -- the clocked stopped ticking.
A foolish venture to see the cause of such array. To see. To touch. To feel. Your sight penetrating through the clouds, ripping apart my seams. You watch as I came undone; undone by the velvet in your eyes, the bend in your smile. I twirl as I am stripped clean in your eyes. You see every scrape, scar, bruise and every moment I have tried to sew back together. Your touch burns my flesh. Sear into me a moment I cannot forget, a moment I grasp for in the darkness when I am all alone.
It's as if I can feel your fingerprint on my heart with every beat. As I stumble towards you, exposed and raw --- you absorb me. Absorb my pain, struggles, my darkness. You hold me so tightly it's as if when you breathe, I breathe the same breath.
Your embrace calms the storm. Calms the rush of thoughts, fears, worries and emotions. As I look up into your eyes, you see my future. My happiness. My vision of happily ever after -- holding hands in the sunset, in the rain, in the snow. As the winds die down, as the rain lets up, as the oceans settle -- I see you clearly. I feel your heartbeat. I know I am right where I should be. The eye of you.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
Time is teasing along with lush earth so pleasing,
The minutes of our youth are spent in toiled days
And sands are blowing the weld of our sold means,
Foundations of dust, the cries unheard, of the aged.
And then, as dream, you came from the starry skies
Blue and small as the ocean dot, forever fixed—
Reigning over the frozen, revolving moon that lies,
Dimly wakes in your fabled orbit, my fated ellipse.
Now, time tables and splits, renders me to eaves
Undone, my squandered youth was but a sad play
And I am clocked with wind, the geld of my dreams,
Had shiftless hands been more solid than my days.
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
At the end of the day when I'm spent and expired,
and all energy has clocked out and retired.
I long for your warmth and tender embrace,
my weary eyes to rest upon your face.
A caretaker that without I cannot thrive.
I don't need you to live, but to make me alive. Alive
I can change the world with what you help me to feel.
You are fuel and rest, rejuvenation, zeal.
When my strength is gone and my mind is drifting to sleep,
know that my last few thoughts my mind struggles to keep,
are of you and my family that share my name,
and lastly, how soon they will be one and the same.
I love you. Goodnight.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
He topped coffee with melanin
as if there wasn’t even blackness
set in rigid processes and routines
days in and out of smoking
numbed his brain to senseless cells
and he dreamt of dreams I never hold
poetry was just pretentious to him
a narration of my soul and heart
every word I wrote to him was a spell
the curse of his native Englishness
every adjective was a clocked tense
and he never understood my words
nor heard my melodies and rhythms
and as he rode, sure it was like a dog
lost in sense, an escapism of reality
the puffs turned to paranoid tales
those sudden withdrawal and panics
drove me away to the deepest forest
and my very bones felt his distaste
collapsed in manipulation and new age
his push always became my push
and the pulls up became my polar
Such a little boy with no ultimate direction
Locked in the abyss of the faded memories
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
They didn't lie
Time does fly
Yesterday had me at sixteen
Now I'm just old
Haven't been through it all
But I seen dark days
More self inflicted then not
I guess it's just life
No worse then the next
No more tears shed then you my friend
My heart breaks and the pain is the same as the rest
Don't get wrong
I had more good then bad
I love life and wouldn't change the worse of the worst
That doesn't keep me from missing a few things
How nice it would sound to hear her words
The calmness I would feel everytime she said it's going to be alright
To know the truth was being told
To see look in her eyes and see a beautiful soul
Have one last listen as she whispered
Goodnight and I love you son
The stress would fade if he was here
Hard to breakdown from the weight of the world
When he has me laughing at the world
My biggest fan who refused to let me say no I can't
My idol and best friend
A teacher who taught with actions
To be cliche
They will never be another like him
My brother left way to soon
I pray one day my son turns out to be just like him
If I could I would sit for hours without being in a rush
Born a man
You clocked more hours then ten men in three life spans
Took care of people and helped raise more kids then anyone will ever know
Life threw you some hard hits but never left your feet
You looked up to true grit John Wayne
I looked up to you John Wayne
I could go on cause theirs alot more I reminisese about
But theirs always something that tops them all
This time its
Us
I miss you and me
I miss your touch and your lips pressing against mine
Waking up next to you after falling asleep holding you tight
Your smile and the sound of your laugh
I want to go back to putting us first
I want them to refer to us as them
I miss you , I miss me
I miss us
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
July 4, 2015
Grandson Tony and Grandpa went to Mickey D's for breakfast. Grandpa was ready to vacate the premises when Tony barred the door. "Just a little while longer Grandpa." So Grandpa sat back down.
Soon a cake and five of the Mickey D people appeared and sang happy birthday. Tony was apparently being a little secretive and alerted the establishment when we clocked in. Grandpa cut four pieces of cake. Two to take home for Lucy and Grandma. Two for Tony and Grandpa.
Tony then ask if he could give his piece of cake to someone. "Sure you can." grandpa replied. There were two tables with grandparent types and parents sitting 10 feet away. Tony picked up his piece a cake and a fork and squeezed in between the two tables and placed the cake in front of the young fella who eagerly began eating it. Grandpa then noted the boy had Downs Syndrome. The people at the table were pleasantly surprised at what had just happened. A grandmother came over where Grandpa was sitting and express that it was a very thoughtful thing Tony did. The whole thing rather blew Grandpa away. But that's the way Tony is. Full of surprises.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
Even though you know some tea, you aren’t automatically pressed to spill ALL of it. Today’s tea features our roommate Sophie and two grody flavors of betrayal. BTW, I’m being magnanimous by changing the names and not doxxing the creeps.
To set our stage, a doe (we’ll call her Britney) high-school friend of Sophie’s is a Yale freshie this year. They were buddy-hollys back in the day and they’ve been clinging since their reunion.
On another track, Sophie’s been talking to a guy (we’ll call him Cory) in her English class recently and it was clear they were “in-like” but their clocked-up schedules were corking their algorithms.
Sophie and Cory finally got a shot last weekend when they attended a party together. However, it turns out later, at that party, Britney snuck off with Cory and smashed him (they were observed, and everyone carries a camera these days).
So, poor Sophie suffered two betrayals in one night. Cory went-hiking on her and Britney - who she'd told about Cory - did the other woman chisel.
Of course, Cory (just another dog-boy) is already forgotten but the broken friendship drama will live on forever. Why Britney chose to betray Sophie we’ll never know, because that ***** is dead to us.
Nov 14, 2022
Nov 14, 2022 at 12:06 PM UTC
I thought when I watched you the clocked stop
I was only breathing too hard
your bony fingers are around my heart
if feels so good to feel them there
they are cold
but I will make them warm again
I wear my skeleton like a spider
or an ant
touch my back
my body is an electric fence
the ghosts of the sparrows that flew out of your mouth
only know where sunsets grow
we fallowed them to the trees
where they are skinny and bare
and their roots are as cracked as ours
I was holding your hand so gentle
I thought that I was going to lose you
I was whispering to your ears
telling them not to worry
you thought I spoke in madness
it was only my smile
that magically tricked you into loving me
my magic tricks are a musical garden I tried to grow you
but the sun never came
neither did the rain
one night you tried to not let me see you crying
but I knew you did
cause your heart stung me like a jellyfish
my hands
are still raw and numb from the sorrow
but I know that you had forgiven me
when the bleeding finally stopped
I still haven't shown you the scars
but I was only speaking in madness
Apr 1, 2011
Apr 1, 2011 at 1:49 AM UTC
he said 'wedlock' anti-amorous lead clocked signing them contracted away from their grieving animal truths boothed in a partner grip that'll mend them toward social safety
Mar 6, 2022
Mar 6, 2022 at 1:18 PM UTC
This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,
He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!
The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,
Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"
Why that one there, that's from a Queen,
She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!
That one there, why that's from a Fairy,
It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!
Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,
It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
wednesday ..
is faded black jeans/old white tank (too big) (hole from belt buckle centre front)
glass of water stuck into the rings left by past week's mugs of beer
sitting by the ashtray. and you are better than a nip of rye in the truck cab heading to work.
the dust in my lungs (wide open saskatchewan fields)
is not as important as watching the clouds stain purple with the sunrise
patting two gorgeous farm dogs who run over from behind a silo turned to bronze in the light
(there is an angel laying naked in the wheat grain)
to nip playfully at my calves while i unchain the derrick,
somewhere in my mind's recess it feels like i am loosing atlas from his *******
tho i do not register the thought until later upon waking from a nap.
saturday // 1:15:44 pm
i am in only briefs now working on a song/i clocked 4
hrs greasing truck 1117 this morning and
hauling pallets.
daylene from dispatch brought in donuts.
i'll spend the afternoon listening to kanye and talking to women online.
—there are no girls in estevan. i have (kind of) looked.
sometimes i believe this to be pathetic but then i think further ahead
and it's not so bad.
you do really meet some nice girls. phone is replete with their numbers &
they keep me company on long rides to and from leases,
asking about work. hoping that i am well.
(once back home by christmas account will be deleted and i can
take them out at my leisure. you'll understand i hope that i am not
a desperate man. but one has to work with that which he has.
would you rather i go lonely? make my home in the mud to croon hank williams to crows?)
(temporality.)
15/10/2012
there are now three beer cans on the carpet & one on the washing machine by the
bathroom door which i will drink in the shower.
it was sort of a long day.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
I drew you on
the back of my
work schedule
and left it on
the counter
when I
clocked
out.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
We clocked in
(Punched in the older guys said)
And sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs
Hubbed by a thin morose
Befuddlement of a team lead
“An hour, just what is an hour?” he asked to begin the weekly meeting
I wanted to say, “A unit of temporal measurement that comprises -- or is that composes? -- sixty minutes,”
But held back
Knowing the obviousness of the query had to be a set-up
The befuddlement sighed in frustration
An understudy to my English III instructor
(the one who gave me an F- on the Emily Dickinson test)
Then said, “Okay, just what can be done in an hour?”
Then the youngest kid who always kept quiet
But who had enough scars -- had to toss in a lurid touch didn’t I --
To imply that he might have more experience than the oldest said,
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, then just what is that contraption on the other side of the bay?”
“An assembly line.”
“And what does it do?”
“It makes a 30centaurpower indivertible that runs on Gila monster spit.”
He nodded.
He considered.
“Okay, then, let’s punch out and come back tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll really have something to do.”
(And - oh yeah -- putting on my hat as a frustrated teleplay writer:
Those scars showed that he could handle himself.)
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
The chilly air has settled in
Fall has clocked in and everyone
knows it.
We make the appropriate
changes and continue
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
The sign said no entry,it meant me,I know it,I rode on right through it and thought that I knew it
all.
The policeman in a court date said that I, just would not wait for the lights to go green and he'd seen me do eighty in a thirty mile zone.
I was sent to a home for the wayward and flighty,a light sentence upon me,could not believe I was not free.
See me, on a saturday and I'm back on the racetrack,known as the M thirty motorway and I'm clocked at a ton by the feds in the lay by,who with sirens mad blaring came a tearing along after me,nicked,apprehended me and again,I could not believe I was not free,
I got four months in Dartmoor which get a poor recommendation,it's no picnic park for the youth of this nation,released in September,though it should have been May and soon after that in a 93 Fiat with go faster stripes,I was striped up quite rightly by the boys in blue and tightly,
handcuffed and roughed up and locked up again.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
I’m blocked
Can’t think of anything to write
Searching for inspiration with a fight
I’m locked
Scanning my head for lines
Scouring my heart that confines
I’m shocked
Nothing to say
No words to pay
I’m clocked
Nothing on the sheet
The clock I can’t beat
I’m blocked?
Turns out I just wrote a poem
While suffering from writer’s block
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
An anxious person's life comes with a set of rules, a guidebook on how to survive that is etched between the neurons of said person's brain.
Each day fits neatly into a schedule, clocked in by the second and placed firmly into a time slot that is fixed and immovable.
Each thought is churned and questioned before finally being spit out.
Each sentence is perfectly manufactured as it has been sent down an assembly line and thoroughly checked before being spoken.
Each situation is analyzed and placed into a pros and cons power struggle before being decided upon.
An anxious person in love is a difficult thing.
Love can't be placed into a box, can't be precise and planned and prepared for.
Love can't be controlled or put into an agenda, can't be narrowed down into a certain time frame or date range.
Love is bigger than any person can hold in their hand. Love can get away, slip through the cracks and get scattered and messy.
An anxious person does not like messy. It makes them anxious.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
The puppeteer is the fool,
delivering drugs like a mule,
unaware of his crime,
he will pay a price of time.
The puppeteer approaches his boss,
in a room with some moss.
A man with two tears tattooed on his face,
holds out the his gross overpay and hands him mace.
The Puppeteer walks with what he believes is just cheats,
not hearing the sound of foot beats.
to late to block,
he is clocked.
The puppeteer protects what is his,
the boy beats him without a single miss,
out comes his hero in a baseball cap,
threatening the boy he tries to leave the map.
The puppeteers pride is damaged,
and takes the bat hitting his atter leaving him in bandages.
paying off the right people the man with tear tattoo's
make all the charges become taboo.
The puppeteer reads the news,
the boy he attacked might be set a new,
sitting by the rail on valentines day,
his friend approaches with a blush like a bae.
The puppeteer hears the boy say love,
he pushes his into the wall not wanting to be his dove,
though secretly he feels different,
and his hero can tell and kisses him not ashamed he is indifferent.
The puppeteer panics he is set a miss
for he never expected to receive a kiss,
he shoves him off and yells queer,
his heart is set with fear.
The puppeteer sees him sit down next to him,
his girlfriend near he won't mention it Kim,
looking for justice an older brother show up,
though he is ignored as his opponent sips from a cup.
The puppeteer hears a shot be fired,
he realises he is deaths desire,
when all went black,
his eyes open to see the gunman be pushed a back.
The puppeteer smiles for he has won,
till his hand touched someone,
looking to the side their lies the hero,
and the puppeteers sanity hits zero.
Complete our dream that is his last call,
before the hero's eyes will fall.
an unmarked grave is mentioned through my rhyme,
nothing can heal the heart not even time.
One goal is set in mind,
and he will accomplish it in do time,
to become an artist of the written word,
only then can the puppeteer become a bird.
The puppeteer lives no more,
for now he closes the past's door.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
The bass hits hard in the back seat of a car
Passing zoots back & forth, here we are
Hoods up, the man dem looking for war
Pistol gripped, left hand, and we're sure
Trying to **** a man tonight for the cause
Man got the cash, that's right, that's ours
Trying to get that food for the fight, for the boys
Animals in black masks holding their toys
Orders from above as we arrive at the spot
To the place where the man-a get popped
Shifty looking bloke in a hood, we've been clocked
Every man rush from the car on the block
Running with the crew with my hand on my... glock
Round the corner, right towards the shops
At that point the man we pursue just stops
At that point all we hear is gun shots
Rodney got shot, Malcolm got shot
Barry got shot, Marvin got shot
Mans on the roof picking us off like dogs
I let the banger blare, but I know I lost the plot
Took a hasty retreat on my lonesome in the dark
Made a left by the pub and ended up at the park
Man still chasing me, I know they're not far
I need to get back to my crew and the car
I'll probably be dead before I get past the bar
I kept on towards my estate, just to be sure
No long ting, I don't want a grand tour
Shook the man off when I got to my door
But when I got inside, the only thing that I saw
The faces of my dead friends and a land of no law
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Come marauder, sword unscabbarded, lay
siege by deceit, wound mortal my coil again:
I live in aeons where millennia are puddles -
you will be assimilated, your venom spat out.
What of nations but the notions of separation,
people go, languages die like colours and petals
but here lies anchored, the soul of the world.
Deep in that recess where no man has gone,
by moonless nights, unfurled ancient
the song of the stars flowing in distant skies
Who knows when time began? Who clocked
the beginnings? Here I asked of nought and nigh,
here the endless vast, and out of a featureless past
speaks the wisdom that lights continents afar
heroic the call to selfless action in the field of war.
Here was love born, in all her colours, and the lore
of the unhinged compassion of the liberated soul
here I asked of the highest god, why none above?
and came war beating its chest, lust laden again
pillage and plunder of the savage kind
but, I live, I live, I live,
I live in the cave temples of the unknown world,
I live in the music of the evening sun,
I live in the dance of the spirit drunk of love,
I live in the ruins whose soul is beyond plunder,
I rise towering from the ashes,
There - flies the wheel of law on the horizon high
There is yet a mighty dawn waiting to rain
down light on the veiled world, free free,
I am a spark of that thirsting fire!
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
:AQUARIUS:SEPTEMBER:
Last month you saw Marilyn Monroe riding sidesaddle on a bicycle. Her cream colored skirt billowing as she passed you by. You noticed she had aged. She was gray and lined but still beautiful.
Last week you saw Tupac walking to work. He clocked in a few minutes early and kept his head down. During the lunch break he talked to you about settling down and starting a family. He used the word "suburb" and you almost gagged.
Yesterday you adopted a dog who had been hit by a car. You gave her a name and a yard and a bed and grain free kibble. She's fine now. She doesn't even seem to notice her stitches. She sits on the porch and barks at squirrels while you fold clean clothes.
Today you realize you have learned to raise the dead. But only so they don't remember themselves. Only so they have no recollection of who they were before. Only so their lives are blank boards.
You are afraid of your newfound powers, but with Mars in your house you will learn some control.
"Don't bring back your mother," you repeat like a mantra.
You won't feel restraint until the 21st.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Obiter Dictum,
swollen backlash in pursuit of a belt,
momma I swear I'll never sag my pants again.
Victim of a victor system I refuse to be a victim,
I'm on the guess list of an addict refusing treatment,
allow me to use a well spoken perspective,
Death, inspire your deadliest of boom foreal weapons,
a new clear-er suggestion,
seek and destroy tested,
a radiant child radiating at his best but at best still they detest,
chop and ***** your loose or luke troop,
holy war is clocked at 12 past noon,
O biter christian,
oh lord forgive you,
seventy seven times seven,
this clearly says not for human consumption or misuse,
a door with no hinge,
a room without a view,
introducing bedlam,
hell is just a match made in heaven,
how many more words do I have to use to prove to you bloated youth,
tactically destroy any skyscraper presented over you, fa5v_O, for the truth.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC