Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines

I no longer measure time in minutes, hours, days
I now measure by with you or not with you

Tick, tick, tock, tick,
Listen to all the clocks, tick.
Horology drew me with all of it's sounds,
The shop here simply resounds,
I'm bound.

Tick, tick, tock, click!
Turn the key in the lock, click.
There is no quiet in this place,
But I can hear my own heart pace,
Trying to win a race.

Tick, tick, tock, chime!
All the bells go off, chime!
The time chimes right exactly on nine,
The noise is less than divine,
All mine.

None knows the hollow sound,
But me!
Up all night listening,
Listening.
None knows the auditory drowning,
But me!
Deep in my veins,
With it's deathly melody!

Tick, tick, tock, cuckoo!
Chimes weren't enough, cuckoo, cuckoo!
The little birds jump out of thier beds,
Swirling into my tired head,
A moment later, the noise is dead.

Tick, tick, tock, hush.
I mutter under my breath, hush.
I'm trying to write for my own peace of mind,
Where are the words I need to find?
I'm blind, I must be blind.

Tick, tick, tock, clunk,
The thud of the door behind, clunk.
Free of this shop and it's midnight embrace,
The ideas it tried to lace,
The end of a day.

No tick, no tock, no clicks, no locks,
Home where I await,
The sun to rise and touch my eyes,
The light can only harmonize.
And now I'm here the day is so loud,
But you help me forget the sound.

Tick, tick, tock, tick,
Even out here the clocks, tick.
All I want is the silence,
Devoid of this silly rhyming,
The silence I found  in you.

Titanic barnstorms the Tennessee plain through jet powered airplane
As though the Lusitania New York City could hardly proffer a contradictory profane
Nevertheless the intricacies of gamboling and gambling garble too many dice
Listerine rinses a whitewashed flaw until it singes gravity sawed twice
Three pieces of would form a tripartite could, that can’t because beggars are mute and rude
That beggars whisper the hymns of an immemorial festivity churlish upon listless attitude
So we hearken the classics and drop the ink quill upon that pile of effluvium and molasses
We invent friction just to pass a fall’s worth of failed jack-*****
“No more” he exclaimed just as the leaky faucet marginally contained
“Know more reason and you will be fully redeemed”
So I cannot pinpoint the provenance of despair among discrete colonies with barter too unfair
With ***** dens conflagration’s dead blank stare
The pit of the useful and the heap of the useless sorted into neat piles on either side of the River Nile
And each pottery keepsake is a husk of a land long ago defiled
But the hunters that talismans comfort shadowed into a grave crypt
They marooned a contact with pedigree to become flimsy with vogue equipped
So they lament on an August morning, lugubrious in toil and minatory in warning
The darkest nights yet seen by sirs yet sheen rollicking in mourning
We skedaddle the limited spectrum of shallow rust becoming hard work’s dross
Draining the swamp of career politicians that prefer the aroma of cod over the swagger of skunks with high sunk costs
Filch me a new coast Bill the Butcher and secure my passage for bonanzas of wealth
A fool’s card is now the traipsed parliament of one world stealth
Among the aristocracy an impediment to change locks all race in internecine game
Racecar palindromes offered as sacrifice to winsome but momentary glares aglow with disdain
Neuter the profligate, neutralize the builder’s set, stain the chastity of the Marmoset
Suddenly the zero-sum game adds up to twenty
With every dime and dozen going to infinity beyond debt with prosperity aplenty
As the laggards play dominoes on quaint tables frittering at the surface
Foment the disregarded rage and wrangled page into a classic Ace of Base
But who really is Walter White?
Does he live in camouflaged tents next to trees daring an alien but mutual fright?
Is he the kind of Wizard that never had consanguinity with alarmist rite and expeditious lies that aleatory fate is somehow too proximal to become in lambent sight?
Questions answer themselves over time with droned litanies of every conceivable tome
Forgotten in an ash heap in Alexandria more so than Rome
Supersonic flight that hedges prizes qualified kites
Encyclopedias of knowledge won’t even decode ghastly ghoulish capes of an off-color might
Now we simper at the glowering ignorance of menial men
Swimming with sharks and synchronized with the obnoxious hen
They won’t learn nearly as much from the Sun as warmth as they would the Moon for guidance
They won’t plaster Paris with the vandalism as counseling for pilfered tridents
So maybe the Anglophones have a menagerie yet seen
Maybe the game was introduced so early the royalty knows explicitly of beatific beams.
All is lost can never be forgiven in the land before time
In the land before precise minutes, seconds and momentary fragrance of threadbare design
So horology is horrific, when the jaws of the aliens in time thresh galloping headless horsemen Revered in this part of town
The imperial switchboard was stocked to the brim
The counterbalance of a Washington winter was equally grim
Embittered by the bellicose autonomy of fledgling families with endless land but limited prosperity
The dragooned riposte resounded among church bells with alarmism in sincerity
But the attrition of winter and the conditions of every primordial printer
Staged the coup that led to the walloped whimper
As the world shrank and wealth enlarged
As the shark tank of time plowed through shares like an ice threshing barge
We found that history is the caretaker of fringe reason becoming indomitable arbitrage
And for ever space that exists from now to the beginning of time there has always been space that begins with a luxurious spa and thereafter credit charged.

Travel, traveling Ben, travel to the stars,
See the world as it comes again, produced from afar,

Spirits of the Dawn make haste for Time is coming…
When the Sun will crest her waves, bringing forth the light of days,

Loose the moorings set your clock, burn incense for the Spirits,
Travel! Traveling Ben, you know the universe, is happening!

And all time will be told again, in a machine-space of stars,
Her oboe of horology, for the sailors tune –cosmology,

Loose the moorings set your clock, burn incense for the Spirits,
Sail your ship over the sun, the place of your appearance.

Travel traveling Ben, travel to those stars,
Your ship a cap, you ship captain, from a sandy field of ours.

I could not think what else to say to end this little ditty,
But thinking on my ancient Egypt makes me oh so giddy!

What has Ben, will be Ben again, for Ben plus Ben makes two,
And there you go, I’ve gone and done it, given you a clue…

Lazy afternoons and sleeping pills,
Washed out episodes of Winnie-The-Pooh and
Printed photos of a little girl I wish I knew

A dry riverbed, feels like a shut down KOA
These electronic waves are eating me alive
Old razors won't keep the spiders at bay

Slanted rhymes like slanted eyes,
If I wind the radio up just right
Can the music take me away tonight

Back to sleeping pills and scalding baths
And mid-melodramatic heart attacks
In the heat of a June I doubt I'll survive
But if I get back from this broken road,
I'll talk to you tomorrow

Then I'll talk to you tomorrow

you will come back
in every five seconds
in every five minutes
in every five round clock
in every five changing snowdrops
on the pavement
eon of epoch, your tardy shortcomings and
my in-sync horology

still i wait for you,
and sundial
of your promise

you will come back
in every winter
in every summer
in every spring
in every fall
weathervane foreverly prevail

still i wait for you,
with glimmering eyes
and avalanching hopes

you will come back
in every monday
in every wednesday
in every friday
in every sight of sadderdaze
a repertoire of mystical moments
per diem of price

still i will wait for you,
in every sunrise,
in every twilight

'Tis a tyrannous
horology that haunts
the lighthouse keeper's watch,
the turning beam he mans alone
splits night for but a single beat.
His thoughts are nothing more than mist
a slow condensing of the airs
that form about his rising chair
and chill his idle feet .

underneath the fascinating cosmos
lies a fortuned ambidextrous
wisdom and beauty was her true color and fragrance
that love entered at first glance

the nights were filled with genuine happiness and glories
exchanging smiles with never-ending stories
with the future unknown, uncertain
she still clothed herself with honesty and courage, without mentioning the bargain

as we journey upon the mysteries of time
a discovery was later on tuned and rhymed
alas! it was her life-changing crescendo
not realising what im supposed to do

in the middle of our cursed age
comes an inevitable stage
realising that the days of our youth
will only worsen the pain, not soothe, the rage

declaring the promise of a lifetime
where we first met
to be plucked in the first sunshine
was also carried with uncertain regret

as time ruled our minds
she stood still and made the highest climb
but it turns out she was for another heights
fighting the unknown, searching throughout the darkest nights

despite the dangers of space
she still managed to trace
what she's really made for
and what is the right door

but images seem to darken and starts to distort
feelings loosen, still unchained by love's strong cord
trying to see what's really behind the crack
she still flew and never came back...

The Holistics of the ethnonym of Heles was saved by Vernarth and Etréstles, when the flood of Helén that came on Heles was shuffled. Here the inquisition is connected with the gravity potential of the elapsed time with the gravitational hydro of the bottom of the Marmara. The mechanics were marble dust that fell through the timers to the Seventh Heaven, inverting the one-way urns that were already being destined for Heles. This double urn symbolized by the laurel of infinity over the finite, it mechanized the fall of the origin of heaven in the court of the angels, from where they had horologists to pay for the urn for Heles, but as this was rescued by Vernarth, the urn it would finally be awaited in the depths of the dreams of the Marmara. Here the longitudinal precision of the marble sandbank that contained Heles defragmented was necessary, to later materialize it in the second Urn under the fold of the sea where his horology was synchronized with the sane cries of Nefeles, which Vernarth could not bear when he saw that his body it was turning into red blood cell marble. Heles, seeing his mother like this, inverts the receptacles of condensed air to emit and separate the red blood cells from the marble of the urn of Heaven, and then transfer it to the marble urn of Marmara.

After 1500 microseconds, Heles grabs Alikantus's tail and jumps onto Kanti's back, who was waiting for her to surface. She was dressed in white marble chaff adhering to her silhouette, remaining totally safe with her index fingers on Alikantus's forehead at the end when she just opened her limestone eyes.

Vernarth says: “in the Codex Raedus, I made the twelve hours of Carlo Magno's clock tangible, near Compostela. I have only kept prudence facing Heles with Etréstles from the bottom of the sea, leaving the bulbous granules, after his soul regenerated away from the marble oxide in the tin gap that could take it to the real quantum future, far from the receptacle that was emptied to arrive at the enteric complement of his organic and admirable Hellenic body, exchanging and measuring the countenance of the Akashic field, where the locality of the Strait of Dardánelos tacitly was upset with that of the Hellespont. For what it meant that the globality of Heles was followed by the torrent of water in the middle of the colonnades that brought it to the surface, where Hellespont already shone with another name of the Cosmic Sea "

The places and times, the characters, and fantastic animals were rooted in the mention where all things were induced towards a theoretical foundation, based on the love of quantum entanglements or (entanglement basis), to give ballast that binds the particles that are to it. own from where the independent particle persistently comes, which will drag the names of Heles and Helén for thousands of millennia, through this intertwining of two colonnades that represent the duality of Kanti and Alikantus, with Vernarth and Etréstles. They made the macroscopic purpose of the Kairos tunnel, where the pre-Helladic anticipated the revolutionized time of the Kairos when the Hellenes already carried the visionary overtaking factor in their genes, to help this sponsorship of Vernarth's Romantic Submitology in the Hellespont, from Vernarth's home run where the stars and Kafersesuh's Lepidoptera straightened up.