Kaleidoscopic Clocks & More

Kaleidoscopic Clocks
I'm neither abundant of time or a clock;
I'll be the emphasis on reality for which you've been searching for: a clock
We were once free from a prison of time
Now I am grounded, and moved only by a second hand on a clock
All their lectures and lessons add up
What is left of our time is useless! Like a clock.
Now, as I come to recognize that my habits are set in stone
A continuing rhythmic beat; regular as a ticking of a clock
No wonder Kaleidoscopically Advancing Romance Levitates Your mind!
Who could dare to deny it? Perhaps a clock...

Crash
Like pedaling over marbles
Flecks of broken bikes shift over the ground
Barbed wire and fluctuating speed
Walking uphill in filth covered shoes
Gears and trilobites
Hacked breathing as you zoom downhill
Squirming rubber of flattened wheels
Sinister handlebars turn without instruction
Brake in the presence of crabapples
While your spokes smother in scum

A Day in the City
Desolation, anger, and faith
Guys talk! Sidewalks quiver!
An argued sign is easily disregarded
A blank mirror is infinitely useless
Unoriginal sins quietly grab a faceless dancer
Oh, faith!
The inequitable man hustles the sidewalk
Gossip burns quickly like a small cigarette
Dark windows desire a banal woman
Jobs come and go like dead skyscrapers
Why does the worker work?
Doors shrink like reverse sunrises
Desolation swarms in the smog
Where is the big rain?
Drivers gossip like old flowers
The window shrinks in a grimy city

And What Shall Remain?
Where are the great pyramids of our diminished romance?
A romance deserving of a monument erected
In honor of what was and in memorial of what is not.
Tourists from far off places should be gathering
To mourn what could have been.
There should be a permanent structure in place of
A fleeting love.
There needs to be something tangible to remain in place of
The memories that still linger, waiting for something to become.
Something substansial and beautiful on one side,
And hideous and insignifigant on the other.
An enormous reminder of everything needing to be reminded of.
Visitors will gather around and they will know the pain.
They will comprehend the grief. They will feel what should not be felt.
Here are the great pyramids of our diminished romance.
They cast no shadows and they tell no tales.
This is not a lesson in history, not a story to be told.
This is how I lost my hand to hold.

Give Way
Adament, even under the strongest of scrutiny
The endless battle between what is being thought
And what is meant to be thought
An infinite argument since the beginning of time
And then inevitablity gives way to the unexpected
Desultory remarks become valid points
Constantly risking absurdity
A stream of conciousness becomes muddy
The line between reality and fantasy begins to vanish
Debates and retorts become dormant after years of activity
Trains of thought pull into their stations to finally rest
Answers are found
The nonsensical becomes judicious
Inexplicable, yet clear

Purpose Defined
A leg! A redundancy! A mere nothing at all!
Alone; unfunctinable!
A leg by itself, alone, does no harm.
When attactched to a body, it is purpose: defined.
When a string of words, all the same, joins hands with another,
redundancy joins hands with sense
Insensible redundancy is just wrong.

The Curious Evening Time
kamikaze moths come crashing into my window
or maybe it's the inevitable catching up with me
this glue isn't quite as sticky as your situation
and my conscience isn't quite as clean
have you ever heard a heart beat like this
it takes a small heart to fill such a small brain

Ruin
A wasteland of forgotten tears
the sun cannot comprehend;
Everywhere i look i cannot see for fear of elation;
I want to breathe the air of satisfaction.
I pretend that the branches of trees scream with me
The madness starts to dwindle from my body
A monster that wants to impersonate me
The gradual fall of the subtle vs. the struggle
All the wars we won, yet we're still walking home.

Window Pains
There's change on my blanket
And rain on my window.
It fell from my pocket as I fell from grace.
This mattress doesn't do justice
To your soft side that you hide away.
Out of the corner of my eye and into yours,
we're drifting farther away.
"Each drop of rain has a story to tell.
If only these ones could talk." you say
as you trace the path of heaven's tears
on my window pane.