THE SANDS OF TIME

I have no time for hope

The sands of time are nowillegal

There is nothing left

                                     Noth-ing

Empty spaces to scream in

And rusted pieces ofmother

to drag underneath makeshift shelters

Fixing the fragments like demented jigsaws

Drowning in desiccated, nebbish shells

Ruled by excess, worship

              (and gelid machinations)

Suffocation breeds in fetid storms

and rotten, forgotten

                            carcass-meat

Sallow talismans are clutched in sweaty palms

Yielding vacuously to wanton regrets

Mylipsare particle-dry

Myeyesare dust-sore

Myhandsare dirt-worn

Myheartis rock-solid

No one came; no saviour, no home

                                    No oxygen mask

No new age, no light

                         No long tunnel

I have no time for speculation

There is more to life

than breathing in blind faith

in frangible times of abstinence

The blood-red moon is a portent of war

and it will be noth-ingto marvel at

SRWB 2010