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Big Virge Apr 2
So Most People Now Know...
That When It Comes To Rap Flows...

Is Needed When Rhyming...
To Have People Liking...
The Rhymes You’re Reciting... !!!

So... TIMING Is Key...
To Be One Who Is Seen...
As The Type of Emcee..
And Writes GREAT POETRY... !!!

Just Like... CLEVER Verse...
That’s Used In Spoken Words...

Where Timing Is Something...
That Gives Your Lyrics...
A Flow That Is DOPE...
That Can Get You Well Known... !!!

Like Those Who LACK Timing...
That’s Good Like Fine Dining... !!!
Like Names Now Displaced...
From Groups Like The... FA...

That’s Right Like Greg Clarke... !!!
Whose Had To Disembark...
From His High Profile Role...
Because of Some Quotes...

That Had Him Relating...
Black Players Are Coloured...
And That Those Who Are Gay...
Have CHOSEN That Way... !!!

And That South Asians Choose...
To Sit In... IT Rooms...
Rather Than Put On Boots...
And Face Football Abuse... !!!

And That Girls Are TOO SOFT...
To Embrace Football Socks...
When ***** Are Hit At Them...
In Ways That Could FLATTEN...

So Now Some Have COMPLAINED...
And Have Now Made The CLAIM...

That His Words Were BLUNDERS...
That Should Now Be SMOTHERED...

And Should NOT Be HEARD...
In This NEW DIVERSE World... !!!

So His Timing Is OFF... !!!
And Is NOW Clearly Wrong... !!!
So Should Not Keep His Job...
And Should Really Be Gone... !!!

When People of Colour...
Is A Phrase That Is Used...
In... Global Newsrooms... ?!?
That He’s Been TOLD To Use... !!!

And That Was His EXCUSE...
Which Was Quickly Rebuked... !!!

Even Though That Is TRUE...
And Could Clearly Be Proved... ?
But Now He’s Resigned...
Cos' The Timing Is Right... ?!?

As If This Will Bring...
A Timing of Things...
That Will HINDER Racists...
As Well As Sexists...
And Those Who Resist...
All These New Gender Swings...

So This Age Is Inviting...
A Timing That’s Fighting...
For Vibes That Now See...
How Things Really Should Be...

One of... “ DIVERSITY “...
Where Equality’s SEEN... !!!

A Timing That’s FRIGHTENING...
To Speech That’s Been Flying...
Throughout... CENTURIES... !!!

I Mean... SERIOUSLY... ?!?

Peoples’... HYPOCRISY...
... Is Now Seen BLATANTLY... !!!

When Throughout HISTORY...
As We’ve Seen CURRENTLY...
In Trumps... Presidency... !!!

That Certain Folks Timing...
Is... NOT Paralysing...
When It Comes To Their Speech...
That Is Far From... “ P.C. “... !!!

But Biden’s VICTORY...
And News of A VACCINE...
That Could Now Remedy...
This Corona Disease... ?!?

Has A Timing That’s SWEET...
According To Peeps’...
Within Media Teams...
And Government Schemes... ?!?

That Will Suddenly Feed...
A Timing That Seeks...
To Bring... “ Normality “...
Back To...... Humanity......

Well I Hope Folks Can See...
That Things Now Aligning...
With Modern Day Timing...
May Well Be DEPRIVING... !!!

... Societal Dreams...
of EVER... Being FREE... !!!

Because of The Timing...
of Things Like... 5G...
And NEW Technologies...

That May Well Be Guiding...
Young People To Be...
In A World Globalising...

UNLIKE Nordic Vikings...
Who’d Rather Be FIGHTING...

Than Choose To SUBMIT...
To The Type of Remits...
That Now FUEL Politics... !!!

That Seem Like They’ll RESTRICT...
How It Is That They’ll Live...

In A World Now DIVIDING...
More Than It’s... UNITING... !!!

To Find... Qualities...
That Like GREAT Poetry...

Relies On PRECISE... !!!

.......... “ Timing “.........
It's something that affects, numerous things ! ©
Lyra Brown Jul 2013
timing is probably the most important thing
in the entire universe
when you really think about it -
it's like when a certain record comes out
and it defines that entire era
of your life
like the summer of 2001 when I was nine,
in the car with my dad on a hot summer day
and he stumbled upon "I'm Like A Bird" on one of the stations,
and we turned it up, rolled the windows down,
and we knew that that song would always be
and it's truly just so crucial to our existence,
the timing of things -
like when I met this beautiful person on the internet
who soon after became my best friend
and turned my whole life around. but the timing of it
was perfect and had i not met her right on that day of that month
of that year, i probably would not be remotely close
to who i am today.
and I already know that this summer is going to be associated
with Daft Punk's 'Random Access Memories', with "Get Lucky" blaring loud
on every stereo in the city,
it will remind me of Eisley's album, "Currents", and the song "On My Balcony"
by the band, Flunk.
Six months from now when I look back on the summer of 2013,
I will think of those songs and those records,
I will think of how hard I was trying to stay afloat and become
a better person, for nobody but myself,
and how good of a job I was doing with the action
of letting go of things that were toxic for me.
I will think of blonde hair and dancing in the rain, hot sweaty shifts
running around a crowded restaurant, being sad about how much time
I still have left until I get to see my favourite person again, and I will think of
boredom and sunburns and bad poems and love and hope and willingness
to overcome fear. And music. So much music.
This isn't really a poem but more of a very lengthy acknowledgment
regarding the importance of timing, especially perfect timing,
and how even bad timing is usually disguised as
perfect timing in the end.
Sean C Johnson Feb 2013
There must be a scapegoat, a faceless soul we can blame
when events unfolding never crease the right way
there needs to someone to take the fall
for our shortcomings, failures, mistakes and flaws
let's name it timing
the outlandish ideal with a sort of silver lining
benefiting our dreams or disappointing based on your outlook at the second
placing our losses on timing's plate, so to us it remains indebted
the divine invention we haphazardly sink our faith towards
faulting opportunity for not opening closed doors
falsely accusing an innocent occurrence with words of curse in nature
we'll just chalk it up to poor timing, and bury it for later
the concept of allowing an unmovable force dictate our actions
selfishly choosing when the timing suits our satisfaction
poor timing, missing the chance of a unmatchable proportions
minimal effort to a particular cause turned twisted words contortions
to cleverly claim the culprit, when your very actions displayed a lack of determination
it's not the moment's patience
that forces your will to put the act in motion
yet we chalk it up to timing, a peculiar notion
a cloak of deceit and disbelief we wrap ourselves in, blaming an unworthy malefactor innocent as the sun is bright
so let's just call it poor timing, leaving our passion-less actions out of sight...
Lou Morgan Mar 2016
Chemistry was cheering us on,
but Timing was fighting against us.
I could always hear Chemistry yelling our names,
but Timing was making it rough.
Chemistry was on our side,
trying to help us win that war.
She fought long and hard and never gave up,
but truth was we needed Timing more.

Timing cheered when we lost,
he would not let us forget.
Chemistry held us close,
she whispered "this isn't over yet."
So now we sit and we wait,
wondering what happens next.
Because Chemistry is sitting ready,
Timing will be put to the test.
Dead Rose One Sep 2019
“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)

objects, humans, surprise and interrupt our
daily modalities, knocking us, yo! to the ground,
we, pounding it, for the word void appears,
the frustration of incapacity incarcerating,
accompanied by the loudest silenced scream,
of no poetry available, try again later!

in life, as in poetry, timing is everything

we walkabout, thinking of the scheduled eventualities, or
the dates calendar-circled, though some questioned marked,
in pencil inserted, will I be a mother, find me a husband,
a human grander grandee, fit to be with me a noble progenitor
of more than our generation, watching the sidewalk cracks for an
inkling of when, on or about such and such an alteration,
a seam undone,
a stumbling, seeing a realization as we fall, hands extending,
a notice of arrival,
all needing reconnoitering, commemorating, a poem prepared,
but none to no avail

in life, as in poetry, timing is everything

so we are in awe of words, so necessary, everybody knows,
the awe in awesome, a description for the pixels encapsulates
in I-phone photos,
the where and the why of when, I was grinning like a stupid fool,
the inability to deliver precisely when required the covering of
an appropriate description, your words, use your words, will
fail you spectacularly and so we remain awed, realizing

in life, as in poetry, timing is everything

but awesomely awesome word worlds, near and dear, held forever
in scrapbooks, the literary overlay of the treasures of everyday life,
are the still life of our longevity contextual, the celebratory,
the unexpected losses, largest to smallest, in size order,
kept fresh when you flip through those poems in dusty binders,
in oversized sewing boxes, yellowing in concert with our eyes,
graying with follicles of past pluperfect,
recalling not just the when’s, but the more important,  now, the
wherefore and whereupon, the words marking the conjunctions,
recoding the recorded synapses firing sequentially, brain to fingers, the ah so of the poetry of lifetimes

“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)


Pradip “I am still in awe of words”
Ron Tranmer Nov 2011
I have a two timing wife,
but I love her anyway.
She’s sorry that she has
to have that name.
Sometimes she gets real mad,
and it really is quite sad
that she has to play
the old two timing game.

I find as I get older,
my hearing’s getting worse.
I’m always asking, “what?”
which brings her strife.
She repeats a second time,
in a louder voice sublime,
and that’s why I call her
my two timing wife.
I remember when I saw you
Dancing with another guy
I didn't have the courage
To come up and say hi
I kept watching you discreetly
Hoping I would catch your eye
I remember what you smelled like
As you left and passed right by

We crossed paths  a few weeks later
I was at the movies all alone
And I saw you in the foyer
You were talking on your phone
I didn't have the courage
To offer a lift home
Another lost encounter
Another chance I'd blown

Like a comic who's not funny
And a cover song that's slow
It all comes down to timing
That's what all the good ones know
If you miss the chance before you
step left instead of right
It all falls back on the timing
And you've blown another night

I know that one day I'll meet you
And our lives will intertwine
And I know from that first meeting
That one day you'll be mine
But, right now I lack the courage
To even go and cross that line
I just wish that you could see me
Can you just give me a sign?

When I see you just in passing
And I squeak out a small "hi"
You, just nod your head and smile
I just stand there and I sigh
Every time you're with another
A part of me just dies
I wish I had the courage
I wish that I'd just try

Like a comic who's not funny
And a cover song that's slow
It all comes down to timing
That's what all the good ones know
If you miss the chance before you
step left instead of right
It all falls back on the timing
And you've blown another night
Ian Dec 2013
A lost soul searching for its counter part
Wandering aimlessly
Amidst the heavy morning fog, I gaze out into what seems like an endless haze, just waiting.
Waiting for my better half
Wondering why not me?

Countless romances ending in despair
Excuse after excuse as to why our spirits arent meant to be
It leaves me asking myself why?
Leaves me wondering,
Why not me?

I've been told that chemistry is easy, but timing is the hard part
But why is this so?
If our paths cross and chemistry ensues how is this timing not right?
How is this timing anything but perfect?
For it takes perfect timing, perfect chemistry, and a perfect match for sparks to ignite
So please do tell how our timing was nothing but perfect
So really,
Why not me?

Poor timing is an age old excuse, but we have all the time in the world
A whole life full
For what is poor timing compared to an eternity?
If I can find the patience to give to you then time will never be an issue
For I can find patience for perfection
I can find patience for you
So now tell me, excuses set aside
Tell me really,
Why not me?

Why won't you let me give you my all?
Why won't you let love warm your heart?
Why won't you let yourself be happy?
Why not with me?
Not my best of favorite in my collection. I don't usually publish when I'm unsatissfied with my work, but today it just one of those days.
DK May 2017
it is everything.
The time I met you,
nothing seemed right,
except us.
But we could not be.
You are happy with her.
That is respectable,
but we wanted each other.
We just couldn't.
Now I can't get you out of my head.
You said if timing was better,
we could be together.
But timing isn't better.
Our timing *****,
but does it?
Everything happens for a reason.
Is our story just beginning,
or was it over before it started?

Now as I sit and think of you,
I resist the urge to pursue you,
Because you deserve better.
She makes you happy.

I just want to be happy.

it is everything,
but you can make it your own,
but should I?
Amanda Stoddard Sep 2014
I have long awaited the return of who I was and as this pill slips between my lips and down my esophagus, I am reminded that everything is temporary. The rage within me boils to the surface until every waking moment is spent thinking about my demise and I was never good with being on time. Either too early or too late. I always procrastinate the things most important and the trouble with timing is, it doesn't exist. So why spend life hanging on the edge of the lips you'll never get to kiss. Why exist in someone else's world only to be thrown from the grips of it. The years spent sulking in solitude taught me more things about life and myself than any amount of schooling, or reading rainbow ever could. The things I've seen before my eyes reminded me that being temporary in this every-changing life is probably the best thing for us all, because these things we endure can wear us out more than the time we spend in our cars or on our phones and I'm having trouble adjusting to daylight, because everything I ever see anymore is artificial and obsolete, but so are we. Every person you love, everything you touch will all eventually turn cold and frigid and into something you will never see again, we all die in the end. So take the hands that hold on to your hopes and whisk them into the same categories as your wants and your needs and be everything you've ever wanted yourself to be because everything is temporary. The trouble with timing is we don't have enough of it. The trouble with timing is these hands on the clock move every 86400 seconds, 12 days a week, for 165 days a year- so that's 525949 minutes. So we spend 86400 seconds thinking about the other 1440 minutes of tomorrow. So don't ******* waste it. The trouble with timing is the depression that follows, the moments we waste thinking about the things we can't control or the future we wish we could have. The minutes spent trying to talk ourselves out of anxiety attacks when we know **** well that never works. We don't have much in our lives that makes everything okay, all we really have is these imaginary things we wish we could grasp within our fingertips, like time and money and hopes and dreams but all of it means nothing until you take that step forward and remind yourself that nothing is ever set in stone and there's always a tomorrow so don't spend today dwelling on it. Take your time, but don't waste it. You are a delicate place, treat yourself as such.
AlanK Jul 2014
You told me that you loved me.
The words I want to hear.
You say we’ll be together
Forever and a year.

I’ve given you many chances
More than you deserve.
Running round behind my back,
Where do you get the nerve?

Last night I saw the lipstick,
You thought I wouldn’t see,
So you better pack your bags,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Your lying and your cheating,
Now I’m gonna be free
You might be dumb but you can count,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Well it’s one for the money,
And two for the show,
Third time’s a charm,
Now you have to go.

Can’t you just be honest,
I know what I can see,
Putting two and two together,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Your lying and your cheating,
Now I’m gonna be free
You might be dumb but you can count,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.
My attempt at a Country Music song.  I'm booking a ticket to Nashville tomorrow.
When you pulled into my driveway, threw open your door,
and said you thought I might need you, I thought about timing.

When we drove with no destination at two AM, watching the city lights
and smoking too many cigarettes
I thought about timing.

When you turned on the radio,
we fell into perfect, loving, comfortable silence.
I thought about timing.

When I took your black hat,
drank a little to much whisky, and looked into eyes that seem to understand my wanderlust
I thought about timing.

When I opened my door,
turned on the lights, and
crawled into my cold bed alone
I realised timing is everything.
Sharon Sep 2018
Timing is everything...
I once fell into a sweet deep love...
I thought nothing would ever come between me and my love...
Until you came along flunting your stuff in front of my love...
My love said the timing to our sweet deep love was all wrong... I'm not ready...
If at another time in my life you came to me the timing might be right...
How am I to hold on to this timing game..
Impossible timing...
Some people really know how to destroyed another for their own selfish needs... Timing is everything
Allyson Walsh Jan 2016
We were on our way back from the movie theater. "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" was all anyone could talk about, and I went to see it with you for the second time. It was during our drive home when I realized that our timing was off.

     We tried to make things work. We tried to make them work twice. But you and I were like messy children wreaking havoc into each other's lives, only to leave the place in a furry. We were the storm and the storm chasers. We were something chaotic and we loved to rival in the disarray.

     Again, I knew our timing was off. I knew it when you kissed me goodnight. I knew it when Han Solo was killed by his own son. I knew it when you put me on hold for the next two weeks. I knew our timing was off when I looked at you and came to terms with breaking things off.

     Really, looking at you was like seeing myself, but only in a more masculine form. We were each other's reflection in many areas of life. Some sections were good... others were flawed. But, when I looked at the scruff on your chin and realized that I didn't know if I wanted this to be my "forever", I knew we were off.

     There was a lot going into this whole "timing" thing. I was almost finished with my Bachelors, while you were just getting back into school. You were struggling with a dead-end job, and I was well on my way to the workplace. I was ready to settle down. You were getting ready to figure out who you were. I knew what it took to build a healthy relationship, but you weren't willing to put the time and effort into it. You see? Everything was... off.

     That didn't mean I wanted to be like ships passing in the night. I didn't want a few months of your company to end nowhere. I sure as hell didn't want us to turn into some sort of "life lesson" I would teach my kids about one day. I was willing to work on things. That is, until you didn't make me a priority... of any sort.

     And, we ended on a good note. At least, I like to consider it good. There wasn't any yelling or waterworks. We talked as we always did. We agreed to staying friends. As cliche as that sounds, I'm hoping it'll stay true.

     I hope you remember the good we had. Remember how it felt to hold someone and know that they understood you. Remember how it felt to laugh over mindless jokes once more. If anything, reminisce on the "sunshine" I was within the short span of our meeting. We both agreed that there was something or Someone pulling us together. There had to be some sort of meaning behind all of this.

     Recalling how it felt to wake up next to you was a dream in and of itself; one that may swing back around in a year or two. Part of me hopes that you will return a changed man. But... only time will tell.
He knows who he is.

This isn't poetry but I have nowhere else to put this. This was the only way it was coming out. I have another one I've been working on for a week or so that's similar.

I won't wait around for you, but don't be a stranger.
With time of love,
love take times,
To get time of love,
Don't worry about timing love of yours.

Timing + Love is the key for Timing Love,
Will time stop love or love stop time?
Both time and love will never stop timing.

Love is time,
Time is love,
Keep time and love in the world,
Without destroyed it.
Mark Toney Jan 2020


Ticktock ;)



­               ~2020!!!






               ~Tasty :)




               Treasure ;)




               Timing :)





Timing :(



          ­     Tomorrow?

12:00pm :)

               12:00pm :)



© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
1/18/2020 - Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2020
japheth Jul 2018
there’s no such thing
as a perfect timing;

it’s just timing.

we say perfect when it
only favors
the way we see things
and not how life sees it.

we have to understand
that apart from
the joy life brings,
timing includes

and anxiety

and it’s okay.
it’s time for you to feel that way.

my dear, we’re stronger.
please if you read this note, please send me hugs and assuring messages down below because i’m not feeling so good
Danial John Feb 2018
I've been waiting...
For the right moment.
Wasn't sure for what.
But now I know it.

Been close many times before.
Ready to scatter my brains and soar.
Better than a deep sleep... Never more.
Unfettered, emptiness galore.


That's what I've been waiting for.
Kelly Bitangcol Jul 2016
Almost 3 years. That’s all it took, 3 years for me to fall in love with you. We never became anything, it was because I never wanted us to be. I wasted every single thing you gave me. I threw away the flowers you gave me for my birthday because of the reason I thought they were too cliche, I crumpled the love letters you wrote for me for I didn’t want your words to be my medicine, I never accepted the love you were giving me because I refuse to let anyone in. And after 3 years, I realised that I also needed flowers not just thorns, that I was suffering from taking poison for years because I never took your medicine and that sometimes it would be great to let someone in. You gave everything to me, your eyes somehow managed to have some light in them whenever they saw me but I killed the light and turned it into darkness, you do not own your smile anymore since you gave it to me but I returned it to you that’s why right now all you could ever do is frown because I erased it from you, and you gave me your entire universe but unfortunately I wasn’t interested in cosmology back then. But now? There is nothing I want to study but your universe and all that’s revolving around it. I did all of those things,  maybe that’s why you became the first word of this paragraph. You became my almost, and not just an ordinary one, but an almost that I could never ever forget.

We were the children of love, however timing wants us to be orphans.  Just when I started realising my love for you, you found yourself. You built your own universe and your smile became even more happier than before, your eyes speak a thousand words now, they are no longer the ones I wasted. I would do anything if I could ever just turn back time, I would hold you and tell you that I feel the same, I would give you all the things you gave me, I would do anything for you. Too many could have been, should have been, and what ifs. But nothing could ever change what is happening, perhaps it’s right for me to feel this, to feel this pain, the pain that I gave you. Love wanted us to feel the same. Timing does too, but the difference is timing wants us to feel the same pain. I don’t want to beg you to love me, or to stay, or to do everything just to bring back the flames because baby all I am about to do is to hope.  I will not hope for you,  but I will hope for days.

I hope for the day everything would finally be okay. I hope for the day that we are both happy, and that we are ready to make each other happier. I hope for the day that we can both see the moon in our eyes and the sun in our smiles. I hope for the day that we are both prepared to let each other in, and that we are no longer cowards but brave people. I hope for the day that we are finally exploring each other's universe and we will both realise that is the only thing we would ever want to study. I hope for the day our fire will warm us both instead of burning us to death. I hope your water will cleanse me and mine will make you feel alive instead of drowning each other because of our deep oceans. I hope for the day that we can finally heal one another instead of destroying each other. I hope for the day that we consider each other to be our home, not just some place you can go to because you don’t have anywhere else to stay. I hope that we will no longer fight the hurricanes and storms we gave to each other, because one day, we would conquer them, hand in hand, together.  I hope for the day that you are no longer my almost, but my always.  And maybe, one day, timing will be our friend not our foe, or maybe we would even be strong enough to fight it, but right now we aren’t even strong enough to fight for our love. I will hope for these days to come, I will hope for these things to happen, I will hope for everything. Because that’s the only thing I could do right now.
Jake Alexander Oct 2012
I was right before
(How often does a guy get to say that?)
That timing is key, timing controls everything
Timing has a say.

And that makes me wonder about the universe
Just how much-
-Do we give it?

We dance
This life
This mistake
This message

but something is leading us, right?
like a well trained dance partner, a good leader
and we follow, pulling together this seamless expression of art
these moments
tied together by bits of string.

Right now may not be the right time to say all you want
(then again it might be; why would the universe give you a chance to do so if you weren't supposed to?)
But there's something greater at work here.
Never doubt that second chances exist. Just don't take advantage of them.

Like a secret shared between you
(an apple sticker on the knee, for instance; or a smile across a crowded room)
Something greater moves us

Lurid pressure in perfect hiding,

Heat rises amidst quiet timing.

Covers conceal fingers,
And skin conceals-


Only from the blinded.

Flitting breath from lungs to neck,

Begging tongue,
And baiting breast.

Tentative flesh,
Upon tentative flesh,

What comes next?

Anything I want,

If this is,

Don't judge my #'s
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Wednesday, May 29, 2014

Subject: You know how I am about letters

Do people notice when it starts to happen? Maybe not the first time—it can be hard to tell—but do they recognize a pattern? Are they able to appropriately react? Is it easy to detect such feeling, a reoccurring newness? When it happens, it swells and expands: building within and pushing out, resonating a specific sound, paralleling the pang of olfaction from the heavy stench of pheromones. It stimulates the senses and sends the hypothalamus into hyperactivity, the mind clouded with confusion.

I’m glad it happened. I’m glad we got to be friends, the way we were, the way we could still be. It’s easy to be around you, and I appreciate the feeling you instilled in me. Four miles and six beers later, I found myself with you, in your house, talking to your parents, experiencing a part of you I’ve never known. Shortly after, there we were, on your couch, and you were against me and I held your core, warmed by the heat of your skin radiating from beneath your thermal. It was nice, but it was the type of nice which is prone to burn. I didn’t expect to be there.

I could’ve anticipated that drinking so much would release my inhibitions, and given our mutual attraction and history I would have succumbed to you. Obviously, I did. Nothing more than a kiss, but I’m glad I did, even though to actively be swept away in the moment is dangerous. I’m notoriously attracted to it, and sure enough as I write this, I feel a mix of nausea and a dull inner ache. I want it to go away, yet I endure it, understanding it’s a consequence of recklessness. I wouldn’t doubt it’s karma. I don’t think you are, but I notice myself around you and can decide that I am often being reckless with my frivolity. It feels good at first, but like coming down from rolling, there is a lingering feeling of synthetically-induced haze.

I honestly didn’t plan on kissing you, but the night took us there. I did plan on giving you that poem, however. I’m sure you have interpreted it correctly, as I’d assume you’re capable of distinguishing metaphors (you do have a college degree), and now hopefully understand my perspective of our situation.

I wanted to run with you, I wanted to get a beer (also I had a rough day/week so I was kind of down to drink—coping of course) and I wanted to let you read that poem. Those are things I wanted to do, and while I wanted to kiss you, I didn’t. I’m glad I did and it wasn’t a mistake, but I think doing that too many times would be more detrimental than productive. I’m sure you got that theme from what I wrote you was influenced by the weekend I came to Salisbury; maybe you can see certain themes of that weekend in it.

I don’t know. I was just thinking about you and I wanted to express what was going on in my head. I wanted you to know. I was somewhat sad when I left Salisbury, wondering why you gave my no affection when saying goodbye, but I was relieved and grateful you didn’t. But now… I think about us meeting at my house in Fruitland and the four of us drunkenly deciding to live together. It just so happened that Rachel and I were discussing the possibility of her moving to Salisbury and she mentioned Scott finding a house, with my landlord, for $300 a month. Talk about timing. I don’t know what to make of it.

It’s unfortunate that timing doesn’t always accommodate feeling; ironically, more often than not, timing sabotages it. Personally, I have always romanticized things that were doomed to end. The reason I love Shakespeare so much (besides intellect like no other) is because he conveys tragedy in such a beautiful way. Consider it like thanatos vs. eros—there is greater appreciation for something that cannot last forever, because there is only a limited time to enjoy it. It’s sad to think, too often, we’re unable to enjoy things to their fullest because of this notion. Like life and death—if we could live forever would we value our time as much? Hell no, we would take everything for granted (humans already do, as we are prone to do so) and never give a **** about anything. What makes anything matter is being able to appreciate it, despite of how long it lasts?

In that regard, after coming to Salisbury again, I thought about you coming home and what would happen. I assumed you’d be moving to Massachusetts sooner rather than later and wondered if we would even talk. I still wanted to hang out and go running, but I realized it might not happen and I recognized that could happen.

I never expected anything from you. I know we always had a thing and have been flirty towards each other, but to establish a foundation of sorts didn’t ever seem like an option. I liked you unattainable, impossible, a little too late, the right person at the wrong time; it seems pretty sick the way I describe it and I’m well aware, but you were the perfect protagonist of the narrative of my painful romance with Rachel, where you restored my mojo and provided me with the ability to feel and create again. You broke up the dam of my writer’s block with your flow. You were a muse of sorts. I am not idealizing you, just describing what you provided me with.

With this being said, I hope you believe that the sentiments I wrote to you were honest, as were my actions. I have nothing but positive regard for you, despite the periods where we didn’t speak and knowing you was somewhat uncomfortable. I have only known you for a year, but we’ve been through a lot and I consider you a friend. As I stated before, I didn’t mean to like you, it just kind of happened. And like you told me, that’s life. It’s curious, but I wonder if I would like you as much if we had a chance. I know it sounds cold, and I hope reading it doesn’t sting, but I am only trying to be realistic. I’m sure you too have assessed it.

The point of this cyber-letter is to just let you know that I liked you. I’m glad we got to know each other. You influenced me and you left your mark, forever contributing to the me I’m going to be. You taught me a lot about a lot of things. However, as I stated before, timing doesn’t always accommodate feeling. You are a unique “perhaps” in my life, nonetheless. I wonder what it would be like if we were ever together in another world, but I cannot quite imagine it. I dream, but I am bound to servitude by analyzing each intricate detail of the situations in front of me, despite my occasional bouts of impulse. It’s a way to survive, and there’s a pattern to it. It all unfolds so suddenly, paralleling behavioral, weather and astronomical patterns. More recently, I have experienced this. I wasn’t hoping for it or expecting it. I was surprised.

You know how they say “If you’re looking for something you won’t find it, but things are found (or given?) when you’re not looking?” So far 2014 has been a great year for many reasons. Even the  little after -graduation struggle was a transition to build into what is now and what will be.

So….you know how I snapchatted you (and most everyone on my friends list—you may notice I ask questions) asking if going to a park was a date? Well. It wasn’t the first. I wasn’t sure the first date was even a date. He made no forward advances to indicate any kind of ****** interest. I thought he just wanted to hang out, and offered to pay because he knows I don’t make as much as he does. Right? That sounds valid. But still, I wasn’t totally sure. I initially assumed my brother would come with us, because we hadn’t ever been exclusively in each other’s company. So, he said he’d pick me up at 8:00 p.m. My brother told me he was going to hang out with his friend Chelsea and hadn’t heard from him. I will admit I put effort into my aesthetics, perhaps as a slightly narcissistic compulsion to emphasize what is heterosexually considered feminine. Even if we were just hanging out, I wanted to make an impression; also, some places in the National Harbor are really nice, so I wanted to look nice too. We talked for two hours until they were closing and then he dropped me off. I was home by 11:00 p.m. That was May 4th.

I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you served an egress from thinking about work, my brother, my mom: everything. Six beers deep and I was caught up. I did miss you. It was selfish of me to indulge in it, but I wanted to savor you one last time. I don’t think that’s a crime, but I acknowledge it’s emotionally irresponsible. Despite that, when I think about it all, knowing I have to decide, I realize it’s more logical to pursue that which has less risk of becoming hazardous. Am I to deny myself that opportunity? It’s divine how patterns align: specific variables, whether assigned or accreted, determine the true outcome. The rest is what we do, how we behave, and how the mystical law of cause and effect affects the subsequent possible outcomes. Such dissident circumstances are attributed to timing.

It’s been described as a chaotic sequence of events, life. But isn’t there order in chaos? Astronomical and Neurological perspectives serve as two notable examples of materialism establishing the foundations of life, as we observe it functioning, from both holistic and reductionist views, yes. It’s not irrational to wonder if, in a complex way we have yet to fully understand, we are a miniscule, yet essential, part of a functioning unit. The struggle is especially prominent when how we live is based off how we obsess over the desire to understand why things happen. Despite the patterns, it often becomes unpredictable and gets so ******* frustrating. Still, isn’t it wonderful how we can revel in fascination?

I’m sure you weren’t expecting all the prose, but I wanted to be honest and straightforward…writing is the way I know how to be. I want you to know I regard you as a cool person and I really like talking and running (and smoking?) with you. I know you’ll be around for a little bit.  I’d still like to hang out with you, but I understand if you think it’s awkward or there will be tension or something. Regardless, I like your company and our friendship, our memories, our bullshitting, etc. I’d still like to watch some FIFA games, too. Feel free to email me back or use whatever means of communication you prefer.
Ian Cairns Jul 2013
It's getting late tonight.
Big Ben's hands have been twisting viciously for hours
And somehow ended up around my neck.
They say timing is everything and lucky for me
The moment I laid eyes on you all the time
In your hourglass figure froze in my mind.
I want to start things off right because
When I saw you from across the room I wanted to get to know every
Millisecond of your history so that the mysteries in your smile became
My new reason to appreciate antiquity.
I can be your ancient artifact.
In fact, I'll be whatever you want me to be so long as it doesn't involve me
Trapped in revolving doors that prevent me from your proximity.
I need to know the inner workings of yourself shine as brightly as your physical presence
Because you might be pleasantly surprised to find out my genuine intentions.
I want to get close to you.
Break through the refurbished armor you fundamentally meshed to your being
In order to prohibit Cupid's bow from poking holes in your aorta.
Understand I have every intention of keeping your core in tact
But I need to get to know your heart to see if we're a match.
Your struggle humbles me- You're my Atlas.
With ten delicate fingers protecting all the world's wonders
Cuddling Mother Nature as your own new born.
I want to know your mind can dance as elegantly as your body can.
Because my brain's signing up for ball room dancing classes
And could use a well-versed partner for the Waltz.
And there's nothing more beautiful than two minds
Marching reciprocally to the tune of one drummer's heartbeat.
Let me meet the symphony responsible for your eloquence.
So my ears know where to discover your reckless intelligence when I'm losing mine.
I hope you have a sweet tooth and never resort to shortcuts.
Because when you've passed the point of no return but decide to venture back
All I can offer you is heartfelt motivation and handfuls of Hershey kisses.
I know I may sound foolish and I'm sure the odds are against me.
Due to countless attempts where men request
Bedroom conquests that leave little room for imagination.
And it's hard for me to disregard your reservations
Given the nature of your past encounters with individuals who'd rather
See none of you with the lights off than all of you in the spotlight.
So let me approach this conversation differently-
I want to be your heart's only conqueror.
Pick open your cardiac locker with my sincerest approach
And approach you in the kind of way that eliminates the word No from your vocabulary.
Let's become Grandfather clocks and tick tock together through the end of time
Approaching eternity splendidly through clockwork.
We can redesign what it means to be inherently inseparable
If you allow me to frequent your grudges and pitch a tent on your battle scars.
We'll indulge in witty dialogue about your inner thoughts to demonstrate
My ability to take you seriously while giving your lips upward mobility.
I want your soul on speed dial in case of emergency.
Because if I need a saving grace, your unparalleled energy is my only hope.
Please, let me see the alarms explode in your eyes as they have in mine.
We're running out of time.
Simon Jul 2020
Timing is everything when you aren’t certainly prepared to strike down your own advances in the face of extreme fun! Because fun (on the other hand) can’t and will not strike fun at the advances (that is your own product). Only to have (“timing is everything”) shrivel up and die! Except that doesn’t make any sense to have one or the other act as a simple countermeasure conjoin up with an interconnecting way of making things (all the better). But it’s already been like that too begin with! Someone once said as if by the simple means of a very lonesome echo. An echo that doesn’t have any priority to offer itself, except for the many occasions of seemingly never-ending “reverberations” that rebound off an endless process meant to coincide with something more important then itself. (“Itself”) … As in a very lonesome echo that keeps “broadcasting” every chance it could get its own “echo processing” hands on! That is if it’s not already of the “correct sorts” to measure such a claim. (Since a something can’t be seemingly claimed if not for a desire not having its own identity to bear!) For it simply trying to claim something (only to get it right the first time) is only but a fashionable illusion made to show that once something only seemingly happened once… It actually had been going on for an “infinite” amount of time without any specifications for how long it could have lasted? Or how long it’s very “reverberating transmissions” (and the effects surrounding it) would essentially last for? There was never an essential answer to this very question. Since questions aren’t in the correct sorts either, when trying to come to terms with an answer that demanded essential “answers” (right off the bat) in order to carry on forward. True…true…true…. The (someone) again once said, as if by the simple means of a very lonesome echo. How many was that…? And how many times did it resort to acting out in the best interests of something other then itself? The narration of this very passage “ticks” momentarily, as if to really “access” any of what this lonesome echo broadcasting mindlessly was “babbling” about?! When the narration did eventually come to terms about what its own “accessing” safely filtered out in the open for (all to see…not just in itself), it was confused (more then EVER)! What information it simply found out, was about how the lonesome echo repeatedly broadcasted something too many times that of course (it was not seemingly aware of…at first). Because even if it was, it certainly wasn’t caring of the repercussions bending the very instances that are (all the sudden) too alert to take…certainly lightly. Just as the narration of this very passage once took this all to heart (once upon a time ago). (If only for just a single moment). Not long after when it revealed that these very reverberating transmissions were in fact bending the very behavior of this once lonesome echo. And as if the narration hadn’t already been ticking it’s very “accessing protocols” together, revealing also another profound secret piece of information. Is that this all took place long in the past. Showing these very reverberating transmissions were the result of an overly prolonged exposure to something finally catching up too itself. Can you essentially guess what that very (something) was who finally was catching up too itself…? If you did, great! But remember this, as it’s VERY important (so to speak) …. Cast logic completely aside for only just another overly prolonged (“exposure” of a moment) having possibly been the size of another “infinite” lonesome echo broadcasting wildly! (Not to mention fusing its mindless behavior together as one!) You’d (all the sudden) get a random “alerting call” from that very someone who was essentially reaching out with tons and tons of echo’s in order to (not just make a “too long of a point”) when they essentially were only doing it for fun. Except for the fact the lonesome echo was essentially losing itself one reverberating transmission at a time. Strongly revealing another piece of the puzzle…. That it wasn’t just losing itself throughout its own “reaching out” protocol. But simply trying to keep up with its own alerting call it kept casting judgement on in order to simulate some “twisting fate” together. A twisting fate that it initiated together (in it’s reaching out protocol) as “timing is everything”!
Fun isn’t within the priority of itself. Just as someone once said about themselves “once upon a time ago” for being essentially narrated for their very own safety. (Even if it at the time again, “once upon a time ago” was for their good!) Only to have the essential name of this very passage mock itself time and time…again!
Holly Lipovits Jul 2013
My smile may have faded
But sometimes I feel it's too late
It may never be seen as liberated.
Yet there is always a second chance

From the footsteps I've heard ever since
I never may take a peek ahead
And what it may seem to make me wince
Is all just a second memory to be once again led

If every hour is a different time
And every second is a different matter
What will it take to make this one time intersect
With every minute that has made it up my ladder?

Sometimes I feel like skipping each step
But other times it's all just too much
It may even feel like a free fall to another world
So here I some with all there is to even take a clutch

All there is to see and take a note of what I have read
May be an understatement to which it has been locked
But there's an easy timing to such greed overhead
And I may not just yet want to take a key to foresee
Yet here I come with all of this fantasy

My smile may have faded
But sometimes I feel it's too late
It may never be seen as liberated.
Yet there is always a second chance
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?


Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohs,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <>

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.


right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?


Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Katie Jun 2015
bad timing is a funny thing.
only because bad timing only exists in a negative state of mind. in a positive state of mind every second counts. you are grateful for the time youve been given and do not take tomorrow for granted. bad timing only exists if you have not made the most of your past and expect there to be a tomorrow, a very busy tomorrow. so if an opportunity comes your way that catches your attention, take it. because there may not be a tomorrow. because if you are "too busy" it may expire and slip away. because if its what you really want then why not?
why not.
tyler Aug 2017
timing is a delicate thing. it's the difference between life & death. it's the difference between a sure yes & a strong maybe. it's the difference between a friendly glance & a look held too long.

timing's never really been my thing. I'm always too late. too late for appointments, for chances, for people. I never know how to show up at quite the right time. and I think I wanted timing to mean less than it did. because now you need the time. because your time is valuable and while I know it's not being wasted, I know it needs to be acknowledged that you need it. and that be the end. and there be no other place we go for then. and I need to accept that this could be a road I looked down and walked past. and just because I don't want that doesn't make it not what it is. or what it could be. because it is what it is. it is.
Pau May 2019
As we grow, we come to realize,
there is no wrong time.
The people we meet are those that come
based on the choices we make in our life
and the people we come to love
and receive love from
happen to have the same circumstance revolving around them.

Timing is always our excuse.
That’s always been my excuse.
For the longest time,
I believed I had everything but the timing.
Timing was always off,
until one day,
I woke up and realized it was I,
that ultimately sabotaged everything.
It wasn’t time that ******* us up,
it was me,
and in that moment I realized,
time will never be an illusion to me again.
I will never use time to barricade myself
and fortify my pride and my guilt.

There is no wrong time --
wrong choices, yes but never the wrong time
for anything, or everything to happen.
old piece about timing
WordsHelp Sep 2018
timing was something i never believed in
i thought if two people wanted to be together
they would

i had known you for eight years
always in the same class
always sat next to each other
always could talk for hours
we blended so perfectly together
we balanced the other out
everyone could see we belonged together
but i was with someone else
i never saw you in that way
          and that was okay

two years later
we are up until 4am talking
not wanting to leave each other’s side
we kissed for the first time
it was like placing the last piece of the puzzle
          we fit so perfectly
but you were just visiting
living 1, 973 miles from me
i thought this was it
fairytale comes true
the classic
          “we all knew you would end up together”
but you left
with a glimmer of hope we’d be together
but we were on different paths
we want different things
we lived in different parts of the country
maybe our paths will cross again
maybe next time
we will have better timing
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
Do you recall the time the road blocked us from the stream?
We lost our day to flashing lights and machinery screams
The drive home was filled with quiet melodies
Stuck in my head like screaming memories

Do you remember a cold December when I came back home?
I called you once, you called me twice and yet we were alone
I saw you flying past me on the road we always drove
Your eyes were closed singing loudly to the Broken Bones

We slammed into the door and tried to catch our breath
But the time had passed and we were both upset
We missed our chance to see what really could've been
Like a wanderer who passes by who could be a friend

Our timing's off, we never seem to make there on time
Like when you said "hello" and tried to steal my mind
It just wasn't right, I don't know why, it should be the one
But now, once again, we are both alone
Adam Disser Jun 2012
It's all about timing.
Say it. Don't spray it.
Raise one finger to your nose.
Flick a ******.
Wait! No! That's not it.
Start over.
Try Again.
There is someone out there for you.
L B Sep 2016
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.

— The End —