deepundergroundpoetry.com
Clockmaker
Weaving broken asteroids
You’d think that’s raw and impossible
You’d think I was insane
No.
I’ve shoveled your rocks for the longest hour.
Patience and waiting to pull a nebulae’s
Shell back is commonly absurd.
I used to shout for God,
Buy my skies became overwhelmed; formidable
Shooting Tasmanian clouds at me,
These clouds severed truths
Of my childhood.
You dare to call me young and dumb,
But dull is the new age of solemn.
No.
I’ve shoveled your rocks for the longest hour
You idle universe of swine,
Too careless to use the twelve hands
you have
in this crooked circle
of unscented lather called earth,
look at who I am now.
Fingers of sewn clouds though
Time? Time is insatiable,
Brother of The Youth Collector
His eyes roll to the left.
Whatever happens now, Time is to blame.
I bring the saw for the Clockmaker.
You’d think that’s raw and impossible
You’d think I was insane
No.
I’ve shoveled your rocks for the longest hour.
Patience and waiting to pull a nebulae’s
Shell back is commonly absurd.
I used to shout for God,
Buy my skies became overwhelmed; formidable
Shooting Tasmanian clouds at me,
These clouds severed truths
Of my childhood.
You dare to call me young and dumb,
But dull is the new age of solemn.
No.
I’ve shoveled your rocks for the longest hour
You idle universe of swine,
Too careless to use the twelve hands
you have
in this crooked circle
of unscented lather called earth,
look at who I am now.
Fingers of sewn clouds though
Time? Time is insatiable,
Brother of The Youth Collector
His eyes roll to the left.
Whatever happens now, Time is to blame.
I bring the saw for the Clockmaker.
Published 23rd Jan 2013
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likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 6
reads 745
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
23rd Jan 2013 8:02pm
Wow.
Shooting Tasmanian clouds at me,
These clouds severed truths
Of my childhood.
You dare to call me young and dumb,
But dull is the new age of solemn.
What else can I say?
Very original, unique, and well written.
Shooting Tasmanian clouds at me,
These clouds severed truths
Of my childhood.
You dare to call me young and dumb,
But dull is the new age of solemn.
What else can I say?
Very original, unique, and well written.
23rd Jan 2013 8:34pm
23rd Jan 2013 8:41pm
Actually quite impressed. Not sure on all the form, line breaks and punctuation, but its essence is pretty strong. I would of liked to of seen the word 'hammer' instead of 'saw' at the end, but yeah, I think I can smell something good cooking here.
23rd Jan 2013 8:44pm
Hammer......sounds....no not for me. too many syllables in one last sentence in this piece, but thanx for the comment
Anonymous
- Edited 23rd Jan 2013 9:00pm
23rd Jan 2013 8:59pm
Cool poem, C :-)
Much enjoyed the read.
Small observations, if I may.
*Buy my skies became overwhelmed; formidable
(In this line, is the first word intended as such....or maybe...."but"....? Typo...)
*Patience and waiting to pull a nebulae’s
(The last word is in the plural form, yet is preceded by an article in the singular, thus that last "e" ought to be dropped.....maybe?)
Really dig this line:
*Too careless to use the twelve hands
Pen on, poet!
Thanks for sharing.
Cheers
Tidespotter
Much enjoyed the read.
Small observations, if I may.
*Buy my skies became overwhelmed; formidable
(In this line, is the first word intended as such....or maybe...."but"....? Typo...)
*Patience and waiting to pull a nebulae’s
(The last word is in the plural form, yet is preceded by an article in the singular, thus that last "e" ought to be dropped.....maybe?)
Really dig this line:
*Too careless to use the twelve hands
Pen on, poet!
Thanks for sharing.
Cheers
Tidespotter
27th Jan 2013 00:23am
Thanx! I definitely appreciate honest critiques. And yes there were a few typos
