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Wilkes Arnold Mar 2016
I was relaxed, and deep in thought
The type of talk that silence brought
When just in earshot it rocked,
tick tock
tick tock
"Must be a clock"
I told myself and resumed my thought

Though as the seconds passed I could not,
Despite the will with which I fought
Do to its incessant knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I searched for the clock
Unable to find the train I sought

I grew more and more distraught
With each and every tick and tock
That find the clock, I could not
As the silence grew more fraught
With the knock,
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
I knew the pain of Lancelot

On and on it ticked and tocked
I cursed at the unseen dreadnought
It no longer merely mocked
But each and every tick and tock
Became an unseen onslaught
T'was 11 o'clock,
When my heart felt the gunshot

Though the shots I could not block
And on and on the bullets poured
Further into the fray I bored
Each foot a cinderblock
Weighed by war
I slowly walked
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
How I'd make it answer for

With little blood left to speak for Desperately I implored
"Restrain your hands that caused such gore;
We need not fight evermore!"
But when I heard the ceaseless knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I new my words had been ignored
And slowly collapsed to the floor

****** and bludgeoned when I hit bed rock, I had still found no clock
But tick and tock it had forgot
The church bell rang t'was 12 o'clock,
Though mortal wounds the seconds wrought
I no longer was distraught
And as I lay in the hemlock
It occurred in my last thoughts
I would miss the beating knock
tick..., tock...
tick..., tock...
First poem looking for feed back critical and complimentary
Philip Lawrence Apr 2017
The long dormant heart need
burst, explode, dance in the fire,
decry the years.
Dare laugh at the black angel,
howl with glee, a jacquerie of one,
for you are a presence, alive.
Astonish, before it is too late,
for the lambent eve wanes.
Alicia Jan 6
The past is a frozen lake
The future, a distant dream
For which everything is at stake -
Or at least, that's what it seems.

In yesterday lie our regrets
Tombs named after the things we failed to do
Can you see how we are so full of ourselves
Thinking we have a purpose to attend to?

Do not worry about tomorrow, either
For all we have is today
Filled with worries and sorrows
You do not need memories to get in the way.
elaine Oct 2018
times running out,
hear the old ticking clock.

tick tock. time a' running out.

you can't run little girl, for it is much greater. the old man in the clock is quick to take his victims,
'your time is done. the clock has stopped. calm down girl, it will all be over soon'

black takes over your vision, all you hear is the ticking of the old mans clock.

tick tock.

one by one they all stop, growing eerily silent.
faith Oct 2017
these old clocks are making me sick,
time is running out now take your pick,
come on now make it quick,
there is no longer any time,
or any rhyme,
your time has ended,
and it can't be mended.
Phoenix Oct 2018
As I sit and watch the time pass
The green numbers on a screen
It hits me how much lies hurt me
Tick-Tock Tick-Tock
The mouse fell off the clock
Down, down, down into the endless void
Broken promises and unfinished stories
About lost riches and unfounded glory

No one notices the time pass
Unless they don’t have enough to last
Time Is just an invisible finish line
You don’t know when your time dies
But when it does you look into the skys wondering why
Time passes again, slower this time
Cause it’s saving it’s energy for it to fly
But you’ll know when you’re clock dies

So i sit here waiting for my clock
For the alarm that isnt so sweet
Why take our time when we have none to spare
Don’t take time from others cause you have none to spare
I’ll sit here and watch the time pass
The green numbers changing every minute
Lost in the trance of time passing by
I look at the clock and close my eyes.
October 15, 2018
Jayne E Jun 4
When the hands of time
get lost in the rhyme
when they pull you back back
and space does crack crack
it's torment in a truckloads ride
with fraught mind nowhere to hide

it's the real life boogey man
showing you just how he can
take you down down in one blink
then sleep is here & on the brink
of hell you teeter totter pirouette
the curtains shut the scene is set

back back you hurl back in time
to the darkest days & the darker nights
it's the ice cream truck that never comes
it's the cold blades glint as warm blood runs
it's the sun shining just over there
it's the monster creeping ever near

when the sun won't rise fast enough
his smooth skin hands bring the rough
and the dance won't stop only the clock
frozen in time backwards tock tick tock
it's the sickening taste of copper & dirt
& knife slices are the least of the hurt

when the scars dont heal just remain
it's the constant bleed the lingering pain
of a child's heart broken & left to rot
it's never enough & its an awful lot
see the world dissovle see trust rust
feed the need inside the want the must
try to grasp on tight a filament of hope
or contemplate swinging rough rope

it's these lines bleeding all over the place
searching seeking a familiar warm face
is it giving in or is it reaching out
or just more my sickened pen to spout
even after he's long & cold in earth deep
it's the knowing I am his forever to keep
my stolen child my innocence my hope
the faint scars left in skin of rough hewn rope.

J.C. 05/06/2019.
Ok so apologies for the 'darker' writes recently, its just how it is when past atrocities rear their **** head, and thr monster comes creeping into your dreams/nightmares.
Weljay Sep 2017
the bitterest most painful cry of all
is the cry of regret
especially when Time makes you recall
the things you haven't mete
Kisses. Hugs. some of the things we lament
for time is now all spent.
goes the clock.
Patricia LeDuc Mar 2018
You can’t stop time from passing by
No matter the tricks you try
Time passes way too soon
From noon to noon does time consume
By night the phases of  the moon
By day we live by God’s sundial
To mark the time we have
So use it well each passing year
Share it with friends near and dear
Spend it now
Live in the moment
There is no bank of time lost
live life to the fullest
Matt Shade Apr 2018
I think
I am
the hand
will take
what it
has made
and I
will fade
the snow
I find
a place
to grow.
Mykenzie Sep 2018
I can hear the time passing
Can you?
I hear it passing
with every missed chance and
every failed oppurtunity
Zeleyha Mata Jul 2018
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I am not broken, I am free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.
Do you see me now?

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.
Do you see me now?

Pants swollen, hair to my brow,
Along my jaw,
Down my legs,
Sprouting from my toes.
Do you see me now?
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on my sheets, not between my legs
Stained by the girl who lies in her place
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, Burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Please tell me
Do you see me now?
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
Kenji Oct 2017
Philosophy intrigues me.
The depth is formulating.
The aspect is deriving.
My mind...
Its enticing.

Questionable thoughts and unanswered delusions.
The thought of every desire onto which I account to...
Its illusions got me fantasised.
The dilemma...
The time lapse...
The ticking clock...
Tick tock...
Tick tock...

The universe is my soul...
My soul, the universe.
May time unravel my true desires...
As I continuously ascend

**Alien goddess in a human form
Kevin Aug 2018
Accepted clarity
Muddied only
By half-truths
Perceived as real
                       A contrived conscience
                       With volume control
                       Lowered by convenience
                       And narcissistic survival
The retail outlet
Of self-patted shoulders
Selling in real time
One's own significance
                       Safety in numbers
                       A comfort of thought
                       The inclusive community
                       Of light
                       Through fractured prisms
Sought in the scope
Of a petri dish
There be an artisan
Peering through the lens
An expert in restoration
Eden Quinn Oct 2017
Maybe I'm like a clock,
set on the wrong time
and not ticking right.

But there are others like me
that are also
set on the wrong time.

And maybe,
there is someone out there
who is also set
on the exactly wrong time
like me.

And perhaps,
we were meant to be wrong
to find each other
and tick together
in our own
right time.

Is it wrong
to hope for the right one
to come along?
edit: I don´t believe in the idea of a "right one" anymore. Now, I believe that despite all of the differences between two people and despite all of the imperfections in a relationship, the relationship can still be worth staying in as long as both/everybody in the relationship put enough effort into understanding the other person/people.
Nina Kay Jul 2018
There are too many days

Too many hours

In which the happenings are never ours

Too many words we didn't mean to speak

Too many truths that we forgot to seek

Too many loved ones never told

Because we played the coward
at a time that called for being bold

Too many times we chose to look right past,
walk right on by

Because we wouldn't want to pry

There are too many chances never taken

And far too many dreams we work too hard to never waken
Justus Aug 2018
I liked quirky women
It was easier to breathe around them
Their irregularities gave me something to watch, whether it was entertaining or simply odd
The ones that fully embraced that quality were the most radiant
Looking at the them was almost the same as looking into the sun
They gave me insight as to what I was lacking
Embracing their warmth gave me balance
I gladly take the backseat to them to this day
My place is observing from the side
I like for my vanity to be silent
The only issue with them—women in general—is that they have a need for constant communication and affirmation and affection
In the beginning, it’s more tolerable because everything is new and exciting
Then comes the inevitable: I get tired
Their quirks have become predictable, and their conversations dull
One week I’m deeply infatuated, then after the experiment becomes a process, the next couple weeks drag by with each day seeming to last years
That’s when I withdraw
Phasing out of a fifty year long commitment of love and charity, like the coward I am, then drifting back to the safety of solitude until the cycle repeats itself
I’m a dog
I’m a loner
One of these days I’ll have to pick one
But it won’t be today, and certainly not tomorrow

Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"

_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer
he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little

He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew

He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care
The barbecue all the meat men and the women who love their fruit listen to the Owl lady how she hoots those Kansas city slicker boots and the Hehaw have a good time with family and friends treat the animals with tender loving care
Flavia Apr 2013
Tick Tock
Goes the glock
Must be time to pray
God ain't here
Ain't nowhere
Ends another day
Tanay Sengupta Sep 2018
The shifting sands obey none.
They whirl and twirl to their own will.
There is nothing that can be done.
We have already done our fill.

Tick tock, the clock goes on,
The period is coming to an end.
It is just too late to move on,
Time is really no one's friend.

It moves on its own way
Making its own path.
Turning night into day

Don't fear time
But fear its wrath.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
You know the drill, no explanations. Read and perceive it in your own way. Happy reading!
Shirley Antonio Sep 2018
Tick Tock

It's time to wake up.
It's time to burn
It's time to use the kaleidoscope of life.
It is time to flow and create weapons to spread love.
It's time to close the bibles and not talk about idols.
It's time to stop begging for mercy.
It's time to let the girls dream.
It's time to stop regretting lost things.
It's time to use time.
It's time to let the sun burn my skin.

Tick Tock

It's time to wake up
Today we will not go home.
Today we are going to be happy girls in white dresses.
We do not want to look pretty today.
Today we are going to be naked for our skin to breathe.
Today we go to the land where everything is good, where we can scream.
Today we go to a place where people do not talk about the things we do for fun.
Today I want to stop hearing people complain.
Today I want to count the coins that we do not know for what.
Today I do not want to hear people flaunt.
Today we're shaving our heads.
Today we're going to let people blow.
Today we will dream while the moon controls our dreams.
Today we just want to appreciate how the sea is blue.
Terry O'Leary Dec 2016
My chamber teems with tensions, taut, that logic can’t withstand,
fragmenting mental masonry with memories unplanned,
as bitter tears from hazel eyes reduce the stone to sand.

Dim shadows cast by candles flit across the haunted room,
beleaguer apparitions, pale, that stalk me through the gloom,
usurping purloined purple forms forgotten ghosts assume.

The tick-tock clock of time rewinds within the mirrored hall
and pendula suspended, pause, while creatures creep and crawl
on images of effigies, through memories that maul.

The madness of the midnight mass! Perchance it interferes
with spiders spinning spiral threads which bridge the chandeliers
when weaving minds' discarded coils to silken souvenirs.

Reflections graced the vacant gaze of idols as they fled!
Their futile, feigned, far-flung farewells now hammer in my head,
marooned like frozen silhouettes in footprints of the dead.

My lovers smile through marbled masks before they turn their backs
(like furnace flames deserting ash or phantoms fleeing cracks)
with faded, painted, wrinkled faces nightmares carve in wax.

Sometimes a gust disturbs the dust and secrets reappear,
which dance in silver slippers through the dusk of yesteryear -
it's not the screams that drown my dreams, but whispers which I fear.

The hangman posts a letter home, his message indiscreet
about the vestal ****** in the café (where we meet
to savour tea and crumpets) down a one-way dead-end street.

The rapping and the tapping at my tattered, time-worn door
repeat reports of migrant myths, of tales of nevermore,
strung far across a sullen sea, most shipwrecked near the shore.

Forget-me-nots, enwrapped in rain the while a wan wind blows,
recall the faintly fickle fates this drifter undergoes –
alone, unknown with tracks interred in teardrop undertows.

My feet, no longer tied or tethered, traipse within a squall
pursuing profiles long forsaken, buried in the sprawl
of spectres spread amongst the dead, some tattooed to the wall.

At times, the belfry towers toll of anarchy and gin,
of smoke and mirrors, rolling dice and other things akin,
impaled on forks down byway roads, and things that might-have-been.

The skies outside, beyond the night with shutters shut and drawn,
begin to glow on shattered shapes escaping ’fore the dawn
as clouds undone beneath the sun release this captive ****.
The old  clock doesn’t work!!
I missed its sound !!
Tic tock tic tock
Time is running ,it’s not a joke ...!

Slowdown please ....why are you so  quick?!

Tic tock, Tic tock
Stop this sound , it gives me a shock !!

I woke up at 9 o’clock...
I glanced at my phone clock..
The screen was very dark ...
It seems anarchy !Sorrows !Miserable!!
That  very hot day in September when
my body was hot  ....
My eyes got wet!

I wasn’t able to see anything,
Just black and white like a dim light at a dark night..!

The lights  of the house, where have you been?

Tick Tock  tick Tock
That day has opened my destiny book ..!

My home was surrounded by cars , and
he has left by a big car,
The doors were opened !!!
My mother’s face was very sad..!

I fell down , I couldn’t stand
Empty handed ;hold my hand
The light of the house was concealed by sand ..
He passed away!!
He passed away!!!

It is a somber day ..A day without him.
And I still remember, that  Monday ;the  mid of September!!
I lost my mind and I lost my temper,
You know why it’s hard to forget and l keep remember..
Cause on that day I lost my friend and I lost my father..!
Sebastian Macias Feb 2017
There is a desperation
In the eyes of a certain few
Who know this is it
This blink of an eye in time
And after that, that's it
The eyes tell it all
The stories the storms
The winters the secrets
The whiskey the memories
Those eyes man,
They see the end of time
From books they know the past
And from their soul they have today
Tomorrow comes so fast
When you know the clock ticks
Tick tock tick tock
This is all we have and we know it
A desperation so pure
The desperation to live
To live and to forget about dying

I am
deeply sorry
that I have
to be
the one
to tell
you this
but'... ..




stage 4
you can
choose to
fight a
low % battle
but'... ..




'or you can
accept the
of your life
its conclusion
but'... ..




"but doc... ..
what if,

what if,

I am not
to die"?




it has spread
to your
lymph nodes
other organs
and your
outlook is
and grim
to be
but'... ..




"but doc,
what about
my children,
my grandchildren,
my wife,
my family doc?... ..
they need me"!




right now... ..
you need them'!



"but doc... .."


written by me... ..
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