Tick - tock,
Sounds the dying hands,
Like bells that toll rife,
In ripened, chilly air,
And hands that stoop to fell
The seasons weary run.

Dust and dirt and minds,
And broken things reply
The token sounds:

Tock-tick-tock...

Again, again, in ceaseless
Strains chorused
From every waking yawn,
Till the lull of sleep approaches
Once again...

Decreed forever to make us dance,
Like foolish puppets,
Helpless brothers;
Hapless beings of chance,
Cousins of a controlled race.

sunlight
tumbling
rainbow drops

the clock stays still

and a shadow of a bird
trims across my thoughts

funny how this purpose
drifts me
ive been
though these before
felt the letters stirring
in thin sheaves
like wind
in the grasses

there are ruins
filled with sleeping
shadows
gates articulated
in dreams

and I feel your voice
on my shoulder
this sun is hot
and full soothing
touch
lingers

I feel so close
and so far away

gulls shriek a grey hunger
across my field of silence
morning ripens into Monday
and the dance begins,

cars whizz into traffic jams, doors slam
the world coming in and going out,
dogs bark their allegiance, the morning's Hallelujah chorus
still singing their bird song as if nothing else
mattered,

When growing up, some friends boasted
They’ve become real men overnight
Had taints of mud in a wrestling match
They were bold to talk to any girl
My lack of gen dumbfounded them

You have not started, they chided me
Go back to the sand and play with toys
You still have a youngster's sense
I liked watching girls play, I was very shy
Afraid of hearing from them the word ‘no’