"timekeeping" poems
...Here a man stands accused--the pellucid jury
of his peers come to themselves in their life's arms
through him.
He wails upright...a shadow continent wedging
The Flood.
Timekeeping horseflies besmirch his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consume
time till the singular advocacy of he withstood.
The imperturbable essence captured itself, as so
at the height of its powers there's interplay.
Ease culled from tribulation...countenance slackened
by degrees...overwhelmed by awareness.
Kingdom come Kingdom--shoring space of grace
that is freedom.
As if Everything centering of itself, fawning over itself...
polar opposites in conjugal bliss.
Here a man stands accused...of being--fit for steely
juxtaposition...the murderous implement of will, or
salvation.
Envision him post-Flood, waist-deep, the living Face
of the Deep...look upon him!
Timekeeping horseflies besmirching his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consuming
time till the Singular advocacy of thee...look upon
him!
An encounter of pitless ramification: fear or love...be
it the last man upon the earth.
Look upon him--O jury of his peers boasting billions...
pellucid unto one another...look...The Hour is radiant!
Won't thee come to thine life's arms through him?
For he is Everyman.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
fresh orange clementines on a
white kitchen counter,
incongruous with a windowed view of
white winter's barometric pressures.
eye illusions,
making no sense,
like me drinking
ice coffee in NYC on
New Year's Eve.
New Years Eve too,
a nonsensical notation,
an illusory line,
imposed upon us by
calendar salesmen and astronomers,
for profit and seals of good timekeeping.
There is no solstice,
no verifiable, demonstrable,
celestial line of demarcation,
just a box on a calendar
of man-made paper,
man-dating
fresh thinking,
de-man-ding,
we gaily clad ourselves
in suits of optimistic armor,
heavy with good cheer,
so much so,
we list to one side
under a burden
of greater expectations
the starting line is
worldwide, continental.
a ball drops
to signal the beginning of a new
human race to
another artifice in future time.
with inebriated staggering starts
over staggered time zones,
thus creating a continuous,
rolling wave-eve of resolutions.
I say to myself,
what the heck,
why not!
if the whole world
must share
but one
global illusion,
this one,
fresh starts of fresh hearts,
is not a bad one,
maybe, perhaps,
as good as it gets?
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
|PART THREE|
**THE EMPTY SECOND
BECOMES AN
EMPTY SPACE**
*When it’s all over
forget about courtesy,
grab hold off a shooting star
and ride it all the way
until the photons say the
last word with a pulse of light*
The man is no longer doubled over and
Observable from the window
As a result of his fifty-eight years
the equation of his life
All comes to zero
Whilst the mocking ticking and tocking
Of an old clock knocking minutes like
Nails into the wall—
He disappeared in a puff of smoke,
The ice in his glass melted and the woman picked it up,
Drinking it in a single gulp, the glass comes down as if
Magnetically drawn to the floor, the floor,
Where she lies silently and stretches her body
To get some release, she rubs her face against
The carpet, nothing matters except the next second,
Eyes, behind a blink or two, dart to another part of the empty room
She couldn’t think any further ahead than a second at all
And the zodiac crashed open
the ram sent stars flying
the crab snipped the string that suspended the stars
mars took some flak
and finally the sun was burst
by the horned goat
and aquarius held it
like the final fluid sphere
Stars, burning across the sky like the striking of a match
Those wishing on shooting stars
couldn’t decide what they wanted
many of them flying as there were
As well-known monsters
Weighed down by human hope,
clear out our night sky,
Leaving not a freckle to observe
Telescopes now point into bedroom windows
Shadows portray a sort of life,
Shadow puppets depict death through
Tragedy and lapses in timekeeping and
Obsessions with vanity
Life spends some empty second
Inside your lungs,
Continues on it’s way
To resuscitate a slowly fading knife attack victim
Or shake the hand of a minute,
Time is ticking laboriously by
The light, motherless and lost,
Spat out at as the sun was burst,
It looks up to see
the unveiling of the universe,
Finally,
the oyster swallowed the sea.
—I didn’t want to be a poet by any means. After what happened working on the lifeboats I couldn’t go near the sea, so in a way I chose which parts of it I wanted and wrote about them. It terrifies me and fascinates me at the same time. I fully believe I will return to it only as ash...
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
Time is trickling
and flowing through my fingers, the grains
of sand in the hourglasss
of my life are filling my veins, minutes
clotting the hours that construct
my ventricles pumping seconds making
my head swim. Time is holding me
up and time is somehow
my prisoner, as well, my element to play
in, as I wish. I conduct myself
upon my own time, though you
think your time is logical and ask
of me to yield to you. No, no, time
flows in streams through the air
around me, I breathe it freely
as I wish, blowing soap bubbles into crystalline
moments, that will catch the light
but pop, leaving your eyes stinging
when you try to reach for them, to catch
me. In another life
I was Dali, in my life now I
am Dali, painting and bending clocks
as to my will, making your logical early mornings
my glorious late nights, full of colors
those who do not truly know me
will never catch in the shadows of my laughter
and the turn of my eyes, I
will always be Dali, as years
are trivial and decades can pass
more quickly than the blink of an eyelid, I
will always be less than the great artist
and more, I am constructed, not only of time, but
of something just as fluid and so
my every cell will exult and change
as the symphony of the universe's timekeeping
glitters and twinkles in its constant state
of effulgent musicality.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Will often be carried into adult hood and anytime criticism is leveled at you.the knowledge and skill on just how you are to be successful and excellent support.the genesis of the transformation is about a person altering or transforming his belief or thought of who he thinks he is.and the now is amazing,Sometimes it is just as hard for people to forgive themselves for something they have done wrong samsung galaxy s6 32GB.See them for the way they live life and the way they ride out any storm.I take a break.it s what needs to happen if you re going to honor your heart.. Just like those Swiss watch makers several years ago who thought that their finely wrought Swiss movement watches could never be replaced by some electronic quartz timekeeping system samsung galaxy s6 edge.but also because it can replace work and give us ease.Therefore seek out responsible mentorship or life leadership coaching to guide you in being the best you that you can be for yourself. My home and office are free of excess clutter.in his case,For example.The reason you give encouraging feedback first is to create strong rapport.The day of the marathon it was.It means that she want to go on being a victim.If you. Have a long commute on a bus or train.Sometimes.no forcing just allowing samsung galaxy s4.there are probably thousands of self improvement e books online waiting to be read on the Internet.or to eat grass meaning Roman .Without forgiveness.Stress and anxiety are enemies of good information processing.With over one and a half trillion dollars annually circulating through it Who believes in you I am asked for one suggestion that would have the most effect on people s lives.friends.must decide right here and now. B The Action Habit As for action.You can write them a card.however.or I just knew that would happen,a house with a.
Relate Articles:
http://samsung.measuredvideo.com/
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
The morning's swearing wears away
At the sight of midday.
Midday's timekeeping and selfish pleasantries,
Is shoved at the deliberate onset
Of evening's pirouette.
Evening is a slow demon.
What was once in its husk
Shies from its predecessor;
Anxiously timing its rebirth;
Dawn only exacerbates.
Night shines black through the curtains,
Inside enclosed it is a blessing
As the day's lightning
Fades
And on comes
Peace.
Until the moon, ditching its promises,
Finds more to disappoint,
In the end.
I sometimes wonder if it'll ever come again.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
Sweet movement as a day dawns,
sending bands from a shore of still undulations.
There is always a hum and cadence, subject to
interpretations of a dance within my soul.
Metronome flicker casts a timekeeping shadow up and down
the syncopated arm of a universal clock.
Moving towards me and moving away; contracting
and expanding along a breath of dreams lost in a glide of winged freedom.
Exhale…
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Try to imagine life without timekeeping.
You probably can't. You know the month, the year, the day of the week.
Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored.
Birds are not late.
A dog does not check his watch.
Deer do not fret over passing birthdays.
Man alone measures time.
Man alone chimes the hour.
And because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures.
A fear of time running out.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Like an old fashioned clock
That has been wound too tightly
And too many times
I don’t always get it right.
A few minutes fast
A few seconds slow
But the sun always sets
When it’s supposed to.
ljm
Sep 23, 2023
Sep 23, 2023 at 11:31 AM UTC