Tik Tok Goes the Clock
Rising smoke
Yonder up the sky
Panting chest with message
Running feet, with chest so sweaty.
That old drum
Its sound swallowed
By buttons and codes.
As tick tok the clock runs
Of a nerve itching of need
In the archives
The drum is found
Tik tok the clock runs
Buttons and codes
A revolution info-technology.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Me Against the Clock
Running out of space,
Running out of time,
I must escape,
Before I lose my Frame of mind,
The clock it keeps going,
But where am I,
Still stuck on one,
When I should say goodbye,
The clock: Tick, Tick, Tick,
Why do I stay,
When He's such a D**k,
Yet, I Feel Happy,
I must Break Free,
I must Let go,
Cuz this aint me,
I should have known,
The clock strikes 12,
And the Fairy Tale Ends,
I'm still myself,
But Now Forver Broken.
poem by Dezere DeLaRoca
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Automation
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
steal lady of the night.
She sits alone while birdies flock
to bid her a goodnight.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
the world's automated
and the lady in a metal cloak
will live alone, unaided.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
her hard drive stirs again
and while I type this poem,
so dies my mighty pen.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
so true, so true the fear
that life as we once knew it
has slowly disappeared.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock
we victims of our time.
The last bird flies above us
while all of nature dies.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Info Superhighway
Key:-
A - anita
R - ray
A: technology
R: virtual society
Info superhighway interaction
A: into the future, into the furture
Technology
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: technicians, technique, technology
Its the most important thing in the industry
Its going further nowadays, cause they wanna get paid
Every day new discovery and plans to be made
Now get connected like an electric wire
Look out for the shock, look out for the fire
Just imagine how it would be
Without the thing they call technology.
A: interactive main
Interactive main
Info superhighway
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: technicians, technique, technology
It runs the world and society
Digital revolution, technical solutions
For some it only brings more and more confusion
Do we still talk about civilization
cause we gotta look out for the computer invasion
Radio, telephone, or tv..
Would it be there without technology?
A: into the future
Into the future
R: energy from the inner mind
Technology
A: so communicate with me
Want you interact with me
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: info superhighway interaction
A: technology
Technology
Technology
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain runs through my body
Pain runs through my body, and I don't need anymore.
Pain runs through my body, so leave me alone you whore.
Pain runs through my blood, as I start to bleed.
Pain runs through my body, and love is what I need.
Pain runs through my body, everyday of my life.
Pain runs through my body, as I pick up the knife.
Pain runs through my body, as I put it through my chest.
Pain runs through my body and I think you know the rest.
poem by Ari Castillo
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Dont Bang The Drum
Here we stand
In a special place
What are you gonna do here?
Now we stand
In a special place
What will you do here?
What show of soul
Are we gonna get from you
It could be deliverance
Or history under these skies
So blue
Could be something true...
...but if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we are in this fabulous place
What are you you gonna dream here?
We are standing in this fabulous place
What will you play here?
I know you love the high life
You life to leap around
You love to beat your chest
And make your sound
But not here man
- this is sacred ground
With a power flowing through...
..and if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we stand
On a rocky shore
Your father stood here before you
I can see his ghost explore you
I can feel the sea implore you
Not to pass on by
Not to walk on by
Not to try...
...just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just a-let it come
Dont bang the drum
Do you know how to let it come now?
Dont bang the drum now...
Just let it come now
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Bang The Drum
Here we stand
In a special place
What are you gonna do here?
Now we stand
In a special place
What will you do here?
What show of soul
Are we gonna get from you
It could be deliverance
Or history under these skies
So blue
Could be something true...
...but if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we are in this fabulous place
What are you you gonna dream here?
We are standing in this fabulous place
What will you play here?
I know you love the high life
You life to leap around
You love to beat your chest
And make your sound
But not here man
- this is sacred ground
With a power flowing through...
..and if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we stand
On a rocky shore
Your father stood here before you
I can see his ghost explore you
I can feel the sea implore you
Not to pass on by
Not to walk on by
Not to try...
...just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just a-let it come
Dont bang the drum
Do you know how to let it come now?
Dont bang the drum now...
Just let it come now
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Six O'clock
I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.
Parody in honor of Llorca
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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Dwindle
Tick tock
Says the clock
Numerous days
Passing in the blink of an eye
Sand in the hourglass
Slowly running out
Forever moving
Never ceasing
In the way
A pencil is filed down
Or the pages in a book
Dwindle down
Eventually time runs out
poem by Autumn Winds
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New-Year's Eve
Good old days--dear old days
When my heart beat high and bold--
When the things of earth seemed full of life,
And the future a haze of gold!
Oh, merry was I that winter night,
And gleeful our little one's din,
And tender the grace of my darling's face
As we watched the new year in.
But a voice--a spectre's, that mocked at love--
Came out of the yonder hall;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!' 't was the solemn clock
That ruefully croaked to all.
Yet what knew we of the griefs to be
In the year we longed to greet?
Love--love was the theme of the sweet, sweet dream
I fancied might never fleet!
But the spectre stood in that yonder gloom,
And these were the words it spake,
'Tick-tock, tick-tock'--and they seemed to mock
A heart about to break.
'T is new-year's eve, and again I watch
In the old familiar place,
And I'm thinking again of that old time when
I looked on a dear one's face.
Never a little one hugs my knee
And I hear no gleeful shout--
I am sitting alone by the old hearthstone,
Watching the old year out.
But I welcome the voice in yonder gloom
That solemnly calls to me:
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'--for so the clock
Tells of a life to be;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'-'tis so the clock
Tells of eternity.
poem by Eugene Field
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Little Green Buttons
The honeymoon ended a decade ago,
If he still loves her he don't say so,
So she's taking her blues to the House af Tattoos,
Getting little green buttons on her birthday suit.
Little green buttons all in a row
From her face to the place they ain't never gonna slow.
Might sound crazy but they sure look cute,
Those little green buttons on her birthday suit.
She had supper in the oven when he came home,
Now he's snoring on the sofa to the Late, Late Show.
It was ten days later before he knew
'Bout those little green buttons on her birthday suit.
But now she's living in a house of love,
She's got his attention, he can't get enough
He spends every evening trying to undo
The little green buttons on her birthday suit.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Tic Tock
Tick Tock goes the clock,
We all just want to play,
Bump, bump goes the drum,
Until our jugment day.
poem by Katelyn Ross
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Tick Tick Tick....!
Tick Tick Tick Tick,
Clock Ticks,
Lub dub Lub Dub heart beats,
Cycle of inhaling and exhaling
makes breath,
Pulses from unknown center has own lifetime,
keeps time for us, clock that set in
every cell schedules its life and
birth! Life is light trapped in atom,
excited electron has to fall back,
Just like life raises up and falls
back,
rhythm, wavelength and
frequency decide energy of light, local time may not match with
clock in other region,
Light travels covering space
does truly decide time?
You are the medium where light
is slowest, faster it is in different medium
and plane, Before the internal clock stops,
Sending warning alarm,
Alarm thyself, you are here not
only to know,
But also to the wish of the one
beyond light and clock, who can fix clock even in a light
photon,
can fix clock in everything,
Arise and awake before chime of
alarm,
No snooze is there in your clock, Never get yourself lost in
yawning,
No one can stay here.
when time is up!
Namaste and thank you all before
my clock ticks and buzz to say
time is up!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Sequel to Grandfather's Clock
Once again have I roamed thro' the old-fashioned house,
Where my grandfather spent his ninety years.
There are strangers in charge, and the change they have wrought--
Oh! it saddens me, even to tears.
Dear old clock! when they found you were speechless from grief,
Then they went and swapped you off, case and all.
For that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
For that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
Grandfather sleeps in his grave;
Strange steps resound in the hall!
And there's that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
There's that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
While we talked of the old clock they all ran it down.
Tho' they claimed that it couldn't be made to run.
It was useless they said-- it was quite out of style;
Built, no doubt, just about the year One.
And the words echoed round, with a faint, mocking sound,
As if some one gave assent to it all;
'Twas that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
'Twas that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
From the clock-peddler's cart in the junk-shop it went,
Where its cog-wheels were sundered one be one;
And the brass-founder joked as they writhed in the flames--
"Melt'em up," says he; "then they will run."
There is grief in my heart, there are tears in my eyes.
Yet indignantly the sight I recall
Of that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
For that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
"An extremely hard case!" said the junk-dealer's wife,
As she carried it for kindling wood and sighed--
That mahogany case, with its quaint, figured face,
Which so long was my grandfather's pride.
"There is hope for the small; there's a change for us all;
For the mighty ones of Time, they must fall!"
Says that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
Says that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Monitored or Not It Just Becomes Hypnotic
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Or the chopping heard of meat on a butcher's block!
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop!
People like their beef stewed nice and hot!
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Like people wishing happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit.
Just sit.
And all they have to do is just wait for it!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tickity Tick Tock
can't sleep.
don't sleep.
won't sleep.
shan't sleep.
never sleep.
never sleep.
never sleep.
tick tock
tick tock
tickity tick
tock
tock
tock
the little hand drills a hole into my tired mind.
can't
tick
don't
tock
won't
tick
shan't
tock
never
tick
nev er
tock
never sleep
the clock keeps ticking
as my mind struggles to keep up
too many ticks.
too many tocks.
the clock's too loud
it echos through the silent night
too many thoughts
all at once
i need them on paper
scribble
tick
scribble
tock
that fucking clock
it never fucking stops
i cant fucking sleep.
a dog barks
tick
a car screeches
tock
a horse neighs...what?
i can't be that tired
i can't be hallucinating
i
can't
sleep.
don't sleep.
won't sleep.
shan't sleep.
never sleep.
i need a digital clock
The Red Drum
The red drum beats
when every other drum stops beating
every soul dance to the rhythm of life
from the pulsating ethos of the red drum
the red drum not only beats
when you listen, the red drum is talking
every stony heart has a sheath for a knife
from a gush on the tempo of the red drum
the red drum by nature is sexy
when your heart flutter and in frenzy
every stolen glance from your heartthrob
from the blushes irrigated by the red drum
the red drum is jealous and vindictive
when retrospect’s stab is aggressive
every soft spot, love and pardon flee
from dirges the red drum goes on spree
the red drum you should know is the heart
when in our short lives destiny plays its part
every promise given not to stray our drumsticks
from where we are identified as God’s handpicks
poem by Dela Bobobee
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Time2
Time is running
Running through my mind
It continuously runs
Even when i waste time
'Time is
A valuable thing
Watch it fly by
Like a pendelum swing'
'Watched it watch me
And the words that i say
But the time of the clock
Echoes in my veins.'
The clock keeps tickin
No matter what you do
You could be action idiotic
But you're wasting time too
'i know that i didnt
Look down below
As i watched the time go
Right out the window'
You can waste your life
If you dont value your time
pay atention to this poem
And just Think of this Ryme.
'i tried to hold on
tried not to watch
As i wasted it all
On the hands of a clock'
Time is Life
poem by Anthony Zeigler
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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Little Drummer Boy (feat. Ashlee Simpson)
(duet with Ashlee Simpson)
Come they told me, pa rum pa pum pum
Our newborn King to see, pa rum pa pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pa pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pa pum pum,
Rum pa pum pum, rum pa pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pa pum pum,
When we come...
Little Baby, pa rum pa pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pa pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pa pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pa pum pum,
Rum pa pum pum, rum pa pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pa pum pum,
On my drum?...
Mary nodded, pa rum pa pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pa pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pa pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pa pum pum
Rum pa pum pum, rum pa pum pum
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pa pum pum
Me and my drum...
Me and my drum...
Me and my drum...
Me and my drum...
Me and my drum...
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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