A Clock

Gears twist and turn

Cogs race and burn

Mathematically arranged

Strategically exchanging

I take a look

It stuns me for a few seconds

It’s “that time” I reckoned

Time to check the Time

It escapes us

tangles and eats us

we kiss it, we miss it

yet it sits on our wrists

The only value is has 

Is only vaguely relative 

Stable and relevant

Terribly delicate

Yet we treat it with arrogance

Caress it only with talents or negligence

Every clock will rust

Every block will bust

Every Peg we trust

Will crumble and fall

Decompose and erode

Melt and close

Until we can do it no more

We will forge for our horde

We will forage the seas

Mine the rocks and rip the trees

We will build the pegs

instill the quartz

Calculate the gears

Spin the turbines

to put power back into our fears

We’re not perfect

But something has to be

Something sets us free

Lets erect a marble prospect

tall and honest

foreseeing all; it is blessed

putting and end to our quest

Fill that tower with hours

Each minute each second gives it power

Each rivet each tick each tock rings louder

Grinding and Groaning

I’m Finding this Moaning

So annoying

So lonesome and boring

So ordinary and corny

Like a telemarketing quarrel

No purpose

just the same old story

The cogs and spokes clicking

While our joints are rippling

Until they’re broke or wronged

Until our eyes decay or sob

Until our lungs are filled with smog

And we’re nothing but a blob

Rolling and hobbling

Through the cobbled streets

Of a society so robbed

© Yonny Poetry