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Array ( [sid] => 180231 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Time [time] => 2015-01-07 08:57:45 [hometext] => The clock looks across the room from the wall, like the face of God. [bodytext] => Life is a beautiful waste of time

Oh the gods who create;
Why place such climax upon us
Where the last rung in the ladder of existence
Is to not.
Why does breath enter this being,
In order for one moment,
to not
Why does blood rush,
To come to a stop
The clock rests, counting down the moment to -

But we continue,
The elusive last breath
Stretching, encapsulating the distance measured by the stepped clock count
To the end,
Like sheep, razed to live,
For the purposes of death

And the fear, so deepens
When you may not even hear the clock tick;
Before you fall before time
Weak at the point of being
The last breath, rasping into these mortal instruments,
Desperate
But futile

How dare this linear parameter
Limit my life force
Why does such autonomy
Have no power
Why are we so naive to roam;
fields that hold nothing.

Oh don't stop to think,
Or you'll begin
To realise,
Time will heal everything,
Or should we say;
Time will reap you of all life
Articulating ourselves as purposeful instruments,
Yet caged to perimeters far beyond our control
Life is a complex waste of time,
A fleeting moment on the face of a Mother Earth,
As the tear trickles down her face,
Falling from her delicate brow,
Forgotten, to lay at her impartial feet

The tear is built of memory,
Of happiness turned bitter
Of things that could've been,
Had time not pursued
That is not to say that the tear isn't beautiful,
The bonds, binding together,
To overcome the fear of what is to come
As they fall, they hold;
Seeing what their eyes view in each other,
In a desperate attempt to forget
That this, ever fleeting mortal moment,
Of which holds their promised purpose
Is In fact a mirror to the emptiness inside their self
Where two hollow binds,
Become one;
Happy to be forgotten,
Or at least falsely believing their existence meant more;
Than a moment,
For time to tick off.
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 308 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Damian [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )

Time

Contributed by Damian on Wednesday, 7th January 2015 @ 08:57:45 AM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

Life is a beautiful waste of time

Oh the gods who create;
Why place such climax upon us
Where the last rung in the ladder of existence
Is to not.
Why does breath enter this being,
In order for one moment,
to not
Why does blood rush,
To come to a stop
The clock rests, counting down the moment to -

But we continue,
The elusive last breath
Stretching, encapsulating the distance measured by the stepped clock count
To the end,
Like sheep, razed to live,
For the purposes of death

And the fear, so deepens
When you may not even hear the clock tick;
Before you fall before time
Weak at the point of being
The last breath, rasping into these mortal instruments,
Desperate
But futile

How dare this linear parameter
Limit my life force
Why does such autonomy
Have no power
Why are we so naive to roam;
fields that hold nothing.

Oh don't stop to think,
Or you'll begin
To realise,
Time will heal everything,
Or should we say;
Time will reap you of all life
Articulating ourselves as purposeful instruments,
Yet caged to perimeters far beyond our control
Life is a complex waste of time,
A fleeting moment on the face of a Mother Earth,
As the tear trickles down her face,
Falling from her delicate brow,
Forgotten, to lay at her impartial feet

The tear is built of memory,
Of happiness turned bitter
Of things that could've been,
Had time not pursued
That is not to say that the tear isn't beautiful,
The bonds, binding together,
To overcome the fear of what is to come
As they fall, they hold;
Seeing what their eyes view in each other,
In a desperate attempt to forget
That this, ever fleeting mortal moment,
Of which holds their promised purpose
Is In fact a mirror to the emptiness inside their self
Where two hollow binds,
Become one;
Happy to be forgotten,
Or at least falsely believing their existence meant more;
Than a moment,
For time to tick off.

Copyright © Damian ... [ 2015-01-07 08:57:45]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Time (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Wednesday, 7th January 2015 @ 10:18:18 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

A very profound and thought-provoking piece.
'Life is a complex waste of time.' That's a great line. If only we could come up with the purpose of life? I personally think that there is is no purpose. Other than, we pass on our genes in the physical sense, and memes in the cultural and moral sense. We are gene and meme transporting-vessels, and should make the most of the flicker we are granted in an endless night. There's much beauty and wonder there for us, if we are lucky enough. Because as you also write: 'Life is a beautiful waste of time.' Thoroughly immersed myself in your poem. Great post.

Re: Time (User Rating: 1 )
by kmec1990 on Wednesday, 7th January 2015 @ 01:04:59 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

It is an interesting concept that we mint all be born to die, definitely the universal truth of life is that we are all born and we will all one day die, that is the inevitability if maybe not exactly the purpose, debatable I suppose If one chose. Thought provoking indeed, an excellent and brave write. I like to be made to think and question the status quo, thanks for sharing and getting my brain going today 😊
K

Re: Time (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Saturday, 10th January 2015 @ 06:24:41 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

A profound pondering verse,thanks for sharing.

Michelle

Re: Time (User Rating: 1 )
by LauranHyde on Tuesday, 20th January 2015 @ 07:45:48 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Beautiful like always dez ♥️

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