Time poses as a ticking god

Engaged in forward creep,

And is revered by billions

Who rise, work, love and sleep.

But time is mere illusion,

Predictable and crass;

Relaxing on its lounger,

It makes us look an ass.

We race to catch the morning train

And stay late for the boss,

But when we need the slightest break,

Time will not give a toss.

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Tears Of Nostalgia 

When will incessant rains will stop its sorrow,

when the deadlines of late assessments deepen the thoughts flow..

Thought after thought, with flourish and flow of

One's fond memories they keep inside their soul 💘🌬️

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In the first second
infinite sensory overload
will begin, download it
and then this
thought process …
it is up to you to utilize
the central nervous system’s data

our own eye of the storm
strike like
lightning …
fast reflexes at the hands
of centered command

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All we have is time

and what comes down the line.

Don’t ever think it’s more complex than this.

Though the universe - it has no end,

and there is more than one my friend,

too many to be counted. Get the drift?

For we live in eternity,

each day a fiber in a string

that goes on for forever in both ways.

So use the only thing you have -

your choices, for t...

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What is a day but a measure in time 

don’t you hear your own clock chime 

You might think it's not so simple 

So refuse to act on this impulse 

just to think of what others may say 

But now is the time to seize the Day 

Your future is earths worm food

For our life can’t be renewed 

Our ashes will be left behind 

That's how it's all designed 

So live the life you ...

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mankind evolve into a minute
mankind evolve into mankind
creativity evolve creativity
creation evolve into creation
creativity evolve into creation
beginning with time is beginning with creativity
a minute is a minute with creativity

time is a minute with creativity
a minute of creation is a minute of creativity
creation is mankind creation
creation is mankind creativity
creation is m...

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‘Time passes,’ said the man at our table.

‘People want something new.’ I guess he’s right.

It's the prevailing theory round here.

‘The same old faces,’ opined another;

‘You know, Zelensky. Always wants money.’

And ‘here’ is anywhere, maybe everywhere.

Time passes. All of us know that feeling:

You turn a new page in a calendar

Or put away Christmas decorations.

At cricket...

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every day
it’s all
the same.

together, it blurs. coagulates.
fills furrow-trod brain grooves
like grout. experience withers

on the vine, in the leaves, leaves
little brittle dust-skeletons
decomposing on the bathroom tile

so deficient they can’t grow a garden—
only this greying grieving heaving
metastasising mass breathing

again again again
once more once more
the same the sa...

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