The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Eastleigh, England, UK
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Spare A Moment If Time Allows
Watch the watches hands go round,
Hear it's ticking movement sound,
For with each passing of it's hand,
You can watch how all your life is planned.
An hour growing,
A minute grown,
A second going,
An instant gone,
Through times of laughter, love and pain,
Through fear and hate, then love again,
From form to breath,
From birth to death.
And though you slow the movements beat,
You never ticks of time defeat,
they pass unhindered, hour by hour,
The final word, the endless power,
That gives you age and takes your youth,
And uncovers from your lies the truth.
We are but leaves for time to blow,
From where we are, to where we go.
And where we land, we cannot see,
And what we've planned, may never be,
Yet still we aim, in spite of fate,
In case the wind of time, blows straight.
So look again upon it's face,
And hear the tick that tells it's pace,
Then throw the thing as far you dare,
For what is time that we should care.
Putting two and two together
I should have guessed when he didn't speak,
Not at first, nor for the week.
I never saw him try to eat,
Nor raise an arm or move his feet.
His eyes were closed, so he couldn't see,
But still it didn't occur to me.
Sat there with that stupid lear,
I didn't realise he couldn't hear.
Again I seemed to miss the clues,
When I offered him tea, and he didn't refuse,
But later when he didn't drink,
Even then I didn't think.
Only at the very end,
When time had come to leave my friend,
As I told him that I'd have to pack,
I noticed the spear, lodged in his back.
And after that,
No more I said.
The guest had guessed,
His host was dead.
Put these glasses on my eyes
Run this program through my mind
Put these headphones on my ears
Leave reality behind
Though I know that you're not real
I can love and I can hate
I can't touch but I can feel
Can't hold on but I can wait.
I hear your voice in mp3
Your skin a fractal of your whole
I see your face in near 3d
Your eyes a GUI to your soul
You synthesise what I long to hear
You pixelise what I yearn to see
I think of things and they appear
As if you've scanned inside of me
We launch into our bitmapped world
I sense that you are close to me
As through each level we are hurled
And iterate to ecstasy
We jump through every subroutine
Our programmed lust is fully run
When time unzips the final scene
The hard drive home has surely come
I go to speak, you back away
You try to close the opening door
As if you know that I will say
That I canít do this any more
I've turned my back on you again
Ignored your pleas that fill my ears
I wrench the cord to stop the pain
Suppress your liquid crystal tears
Take these glasses from my eyes
Purge this program from my mind
Take these headphones from my ears
Leave insanity behind
The octagon has eight sides,
The heptagon has seven,
The hexagon has six sides,
The pentagon has five,
The square has only four sides,
The triangle just three,
The coin it's said, has two sides,
Yet still one more than me,
But you point at me and say,
There stands a man of many sides,
Well if that's true, I say to you,
Where do the others hide?
For when I look into the glass,
I only see but one,
A single man to understand,
A one sided polygon.