Tag Archive: time


This is the Sideways

Car clock reads….8:02. Laptop reads….1:02. Stove clock reads….7:02.
Tick tock goes the clock when you’re a pocket watch in a vise.
The jaws close and squeeze hours from the timekeeper’s hands
Pressure dislodges minutes locked in a gold case.
Tick tock goes the clock as seconds drip from the pocket watch in the vise.
That’s how it goes when you’re pressed for time.

Juice the grandfather clock chiming the hour.
Pull its cork and release the years fine as wine.
Stored for ages in their coffin-shaped cask.
Oaken aromas waft as you drink your glass of time.

Cracks in the cask, seams stretching, boards creaking.

Car clock reads…..6:42. Laptop reads….11:42. Stove clock reads….5:42.
Time travel without travel. Stationary existence in more than one timeframe.
The car clock has forgotten daylight savings.
The laptop has forgotten its long since exited foreign borders.
Only the stove tells the truth.

The future, the past, the present state of affairs.
Tick tock goes the clock. Year, month, day, minute, second.
Written in ink deep as a wishing well coated in the flowing copper
Of wishing pennies that liquefied under the pressure.

Of deadlines and timelines and the inevitable lifelines.
The hour is now, your time is up, your seconds run dry, and if you aren’t ready this very minute….

Car clock reads….4:12. Laptop reads….9:12. Stove clock reads….3:12.
All these hours misaligned to the time in which I currently reside.
If I live these times disconnected from the narrative of the here I live
Am I removed from the train tracks of time? Have I jumped off to see
There is more than the forward motion the train conveys.
This is the sideways.

This is the road less traveled, the path less wanted, the road uncrowded
By competition petitioning for fairness and rules and construction of more
Train tracks expediting success and glory.
Write the rules, make the game, so we can do the same.
This idea is a beautiful one. Results without effort. Fame without trial.

Pour your seconds squeezed from pocket watches in vises,
Into your wishing well. Put the cork back into your
Grandfather clock and store that time wine for a better age.

Do not drink your time drunkenly.
Sip.
Use your minutes wisely.
Build yourself with every second.
Learn, grow, know, improve.
Your growth nurtures those around you.
Happiness engenders happiness. Strength engenders strength.

Be rigid and regular as the pendulum.
And always keep moving. No matter what.
Time moves on and so do you.
No matter what.

Car clock reads….2:22. Laptop reads…..7:22. Stove clock reads….1:22.

Biological clock reads….exhausted.

But, pleased.

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Turn Left

Our life is nothing but a road.
Every trip may start out on side streets,
But it eventually merges with the main stretch,
The main road,
The highway, the byway, the toll road, the expressway,

Because that’s the fastest way to get to the future.
It’s the quickest way to get where you’re going.
But everything blurs by.
Every detail and memory
Becomes only a fuzzy recollection.

Do you even remember those roads you like to drive,
When you’re not rushing from one place to another?
The ones that drive past cornfields, or through forests,
Or meander through the mountains?

When was the last time you took the scenic route?
It takes longer to get to your destination that way,
But isn’t that the point?
On those roads, we see the beauty all around us,
Not just the grey of commercial tedium,

We feel more alive and less a cog in the machine,
When we turn off the main stretch.
Because that’s what makes life interesting,
The turns.

The main road could take you straight through to the end,
But should you let it?
Because when you reach your final destination,
The trip is over.

Take the scenic route.
Take that turn.
You’ll have seen more when you reach home,
And you’ll have taken your time getting there.

Why not start now?
See that intersection up ahead?
Go on…
Turn left.

The Pattern

Dust beneath the windowsill,
Falling to the ground.
So it seems it always is,
When no one can be found.

But when time is lost and memories are shot,
A room is still a room.
For everything that happened there,
No remnants remain to loom.

The meaning we assign to things,
Is a silly, trivial thought,
For the things that truly belong to us,
Surely can’t be bought.

Funny, though laugh I don’t,
Is the importance it seems to gain.
We are what we own in life, the masses scream aloud,
It all belongs to each one of us, no matter how mundane!

Love lost, meaning shot, everyone has long forgot,
The obvious incongruity of want versus need.
For it’s been years upon decades upon centuries,
Since reason has given up and fleed.

Expectations, responsibility, money, and deadlines,
All man-made problems only suffered by man.
Though that irony seems to evade everyone,
Naive to the master plan.

So take every bit of that conformity, unity, normalcy, sanity,
And burn it to the ground.
We can only be ready to grow,
When we have truly found,
A way to break the pattern.