Tag Archives: time

Drive North on 95, Over the Merrimack, Leaving Newburyport. Watch All The Steel Ships Float.

I’m not exceptionally old,

but I feel like I’ve met all the types

of people there are to meet.

I sit in this training room and

look around at all these faces

I’ve seen before. There’s the loud Italian

girl, she has so much to say, the young wanna-be druggie boy

(oh he’s just so mysterious), a mother beyond

her prime, an elder who should just retire,

a man roaring about his joyous divorce,

two gossipers at my table – trying to figure out

why I didn’t talk for the first week but now choose to

ask and prod at topics less discussed (I might be at this job

longer than I hoped), a girl with a pinched nose whose mother

never yelled at her, another with tattoos and opinions because

she “sometimes goes out for drinks with friends” and other times

makes comments just to look out the corner of her eye to see if

anyone still cares, and of course someone gives her that attention she craves,

there’s a man with a bald head, quite but pretentious, another with military boots

who drives his motorcycle into work and talks about

how he was a barber, one trainer loud and old and

counting the minutes until her smoke break,

another loud and young, who “hates having the serious talks,

but they have to be had,” and a little queer human resources

man who doesn’t come around much, an old mail room man,

who I’ve never heard spoke, a security guard who focused too much on what

you see above the desk line, and all

their doubles and triples, and me – watching and biding my time.

—————————————-

Old trees and iron,

Take me where you took them all,

I’ll breathe in and love.

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Space and Time

I feel the pull already.

The pull that somehow made the idea already feel like a distant memory.

How did this happen so soon? And what am I supposed to do now?

Because you can’t hold on to something that was never really even yours.

It’s probably true time will fade the memories, but I still feel so fucking resentful that this idea’s throat was slit and left to die

by the mercilessness that is space and time.

 

Regardless,

the void grows deeper as the potential of the idea slips away with the passing days.

Perhaps that’s what I am so angry about-the lack of control.

I’ve come to grudgingly understand the sheer power of space and time, and how often this power is not yielded in our favor.

So if all we are are voiceless chess pieces played by these relentless assholes,

then what am I supposed to do with this stubborn spirit that can’t accept such a deterministic fate?

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Filed under Estellaa

Quote Me

20130504-082748.jpg

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by | May 4, 2013 · 8:28 am

Tanka: 20

Did you see me there?

I sat quiet and alone.

Now as time changes,

as with the flowers, the birds,

and all Dove’s creatures – I’ve grown.

 

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Tanka: 19: Sparrow: 5

and then the Hawk said,

“I can’t remember a time,

that I felt like this.”

and so, then said the sparrow,

“This will come many more times.”

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A RELENTLESS PASSING

Time is falling farther

        

                                                                         From me

                                                           Ripping me

                                                          Unwillingly away from Life’s essence.

What is my stance?

                                    Am I

                                                                         Feckless,          

A faux pas,

                                                                             Useless

                   To natures law?

We are Lost

                                                Within

The glamour.

                       Caught up in all the clamor.

                  Do we see how insidious

                                                                              And hideous

                       Dark the glamour really is?

          Bathing in bravado

                                    Because of what we all don’t know.

                                                                      Just a bauble

                 When time buries you

                                                        Six

                                                                 Feet

                                                                                Below?

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Filed under Mr. Stacker

It Was Right

Ever wonder what occurred in the other world when you took that left road to get to here? Wait, here?
Ever wonder if you should have said left, instead of ‘Yes, a right. This right.’
When that taxi cab driver in Jersey asked ever so sweetly, with his California sunglasses on, on that dreary Wednesday afternoon in the month of March.
You’re there now.
You have the fastest car in the game.
Are you using it to your full advantage this time around the block?
You were right.
Right about your right.

Turn.

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Filed under Willow Hutton