Lived In a Way That I Like
I am tired of providing someone else,
Entertainment.
Or become the subject of someone else's convenience.
There are those who react as if appalled...
If the hands on a clock does not stop for them!
And I am not loaning any tick tocking done in my behalf,
To anyone to prove a thing.
I've played both roles in a yesterday that has gone.
You know...
The Master of Ceremony with touches of comedy,
For someone momentarily bent out of shape.
And even though some may fine my lack of interest,
Offensive.
I've learned to walk away from that kind of mind play.
This is 'my' life!
And it will be lived in a way that I like!
Or...
Moved in a direction made without hesitation.
I am not loaning any tick tocking done in my behalf,
To anyone to prove a thing.
When lessons are learned it is best to use them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Tick-Tock
Tick-tocking in my ear
My dollar clock I hear.
'Arise,' it seems to say:
'Behold another day
To grasp the golden key
Of Opportunity;
To turn the magic lock--
Tick-tock!
'Another day to gain
Some goal you sought in vain;
to sing a sweeter song,
Perchance to right a wrong;
To win a height unscaled
Where yesterday you failed;
To brave a battle shock--
Tick-tock!'
You measure out my breath,
Each beat one nearer death . . .
O God, grant unto me
A few more years to be,
That somehow I may prove
My loyalty and love:
Wind up this worn-out clock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clockwork Creep
Im a clockwork creep
And I cant get to sleep
They wind me up and let me go
And I cant unwind
Going out of my mind
My time is coming soon you know
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Im a jumbo jet
With a brand new set
Of passengers and bags and crew
Ill spread my wings -
Do a thousand things
To prove how good I am to you
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Meanwhile in the cargo of escargot
The temperature is rising
Advertising that our time is running
Down, down, down, down, down
Oh with just one minute to live
Oh, no youll never get me up in one of these again
'cos what goes up must come
Down, down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down, down
Oh, the gravity of the situation
Its only my willpower
That keeps this thing in operation
But were gonna crash thats for certain
The pilot is too busy flirtin
And he aint aware
That theres a bomb down there
And if he dont do something its curtains
Now just hold on,
Said the little bomb,
If you were just to hold my hands
Then time would stop
The plot would flop
And jumbo would be safe to land
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
My landings are the envy
Of sabena and pan am
From chattanooga to japan
I taxi through the airways -
What a swell little plane
What a fine little plane
What a great little plane
I am
Hang on one sec
Im a clockwork wreck
And though my fuse is burning slow
Must keep my date to detonate
Goodbye, ta ta, and cheerio
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a.........
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Petit, the Poet
Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick,
Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel--
Faint iambics that the full breeze wakens--
But the pine tree makes a symphony thereof.
Triolets, villanelles, rondels, rondeaus,
Ballades by the score with the same old thought:
The snows and the roses of yesterday are vanished;
And what is love but a rose that fades?
Life all around me here in the village:
Tragedy, comedy, valor and truth,
Courage, constancy, heroism, failure--
All in the loom, and oh what patterns!
Woodlands, meadows, streams and rivers--
Blind to all of it all my life long.
Triolets, villanelles, rondels, rondeaus,
Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick,
Tick, tick, tick, what little iambics,
While Homer and Whitman roared in the pines?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cuckoo Clock
We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grand-Father's Clock
My grand-father's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire --
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place -- not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
It rang an alarm in the dead of the night --
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight --
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clock
The clock, it tells a story-
One look at its tired face-
And a glimpse of both of its hands-
Why those seconds, just simply race...
Tick tocking its continued sounds-
Reminding us that time simply flies-
No it does not sprout feathered wings-
Nor take to the azure-blue skies...
But it moves nonetheless-
And with each day that passes away-
We are another day older-
And out of our youth-filled May...
Out of our heated July...
Rapidly, the clock, it simply ticks away-
Out of the falling leaves of our October-
Into Decembers white-ice chilled days...
'Tempus fugit', all we old timers cry-
Where oh where did all of our minutes go?
Just look at the clocks tired old face-
And its worn hands and you will surely know...
Dedicated To: G.A.C., Phillip, Joe, Bub, Lugh,
Zeike, and Pete.
poem by Theodora Onken
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yesterday's Hymn
(K.J.Garside C.Gray)
Ten planes falling from the sky,
The setting sun leaves no trace,
My name was written in the sky,
But now there is no trace.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
Shadow faces reaching for me,
Pretending they know what's best for me,
But I know that I am their experiment,
I scare myself with paranoid talk.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
I try to keep the whispered words at bay,
For they seem to feed into the mire,
I've lost all ability to make any choices,
I'm teetering in purgatory.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tick
I feel a tick in my head and hes sucking on my head
In the morning Ill be dead if he doesnt leave my head
Why cant he go away why does he have to stay
Maybe he wanna play but I can only say
That Ill get you, Ill burn you, Ill crush you, Ill flush you (down, down)
The toilet where youll spiral (around-round)
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
I tried to get rid of my plague but I left some of his leg
And he grew back pretty quick so I stabbed the little prick
But now I cut my head -- in the morning Ill be dead
But even after still hell find someone to kill
And hell get you, Ill burn you, Ill crush you, Ill flush you (down, down)
The toilet where youll spiral (around-round)
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tired sick.
When you don't have something that is what is everyone craves,
Then the trouble begins in waves. '
The clock loudly and soundly does tick
While you get tired sick.
You go do something that depends on others
Better do quick lest disagree your mothers.
Rhyme does you no then good,
Seems like that something is the only food.
The world beats around in their newly acquired fun
While you sit alone there, one and only one.
The clock loudly does tick
making you sick; really really sick
Tired of the fun, you go sit one,
While the music subsides and leaves you then,
With what you want.
The clock does tick,
Making you tired sick.
poem by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What For Them Was Isn't
What for them was isn't.
Like the taste of a lollipop,
That has faded from one's memory.
The activity is remembered.
But the flavor of it is gone.
And many are trying to hold onto it.
With a savor craved...
That brings them to the edge,
Of a tantrum fit!
Since what sits in their minds from yesterday,
Hasn't for them really gone away.
They want it returned!
They want it to stay!
They feel betrayed by an enslavement made!
What for them 'was'
ISN'T anymore.
Or will be again.
For anyone else to be explored!
Those heard droaning in a whining moan...
Are lost and locked in a consciousness,
Soon to be all their own.
What for them was isn't.
It's never coming back!
That's a fact they wished attacked.
But from a clock that has stopped its tick tocking...
The hands on it sit!
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
No movement,
Is witnessed from this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cracked
Piped and smacking munchies.
Cracked while passing lit delights.
Strung out to numb...
Any thoughts,
Of making decisions that come!
Relaxed and cracked.
Listening to rap tracks.
Fizzled minds gaining nothing learned!
Burning generations to crispy creatures.
As elders watch...
With wise eyes fixed on their demise,
And realizing much too late...
The tick tocking of a clock that's heard,
Does not wait...
For belated actions to solve their fates,
In debates to delay the doom that awaits.
Or flaws to be corrected in the laws all break!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frantic
If i could have my wasted days back
Would i use them to get back on track?
Stop to warm at karmas burning
Or look ahead, but keep on turning
Do I have the strength
To know how i'll go?
Can i find it inside
To deal with what a shouldn't know?
Could i have my wasted days back
Would i use them to get back on track?
You live it or lie it!(You live it or lie it)
My lifestile Determines my deathsstile
(My lifestile determines my deathstile)
Keep searching, keep on shearching
This serch gose on, this serch gose on
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
I've worn out always being afraid
An endless stream of fear that I've made
You live it or lie it!(you live it or lie it!)
My lifestile determines my deathstile
(my lifestile determines my deathstile)
Keep serching, keep on serching
This serch gose on, this serch gose on, on and on
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
My life style (Birth is pain)
Determines my deathstile (Life is pain)
A rising tide (death is pain)
that pushes to the other side (Its all the same)
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Tick With A Tocking All Of Our Clocks
Not too often,
But I do become quite amused...
By those who read my work,
And immediately have their perceptions of me.
Who I am and the life lived I pursue.
I am a writer and 'sometimes' I infuse,
My experiences lived.
But I am not an isolationist...
Observing life within limitations.
I have the ability to empathize,
With others unknown but do see.
I also listen to others as well...
With a focused attention.
Without that focus being centered on me.
I am not a self obsessor.
I am also a creature of curiosity.
An adventurer scouting out life,
And what life offers me.
And with a pad and pen with imagination too?
Well...
The environment is a canvas I observe.
To describe what is there existing.
Although there are times when people refuse,
To see themselves the way I do.
And believe it or not,
What is revealed to us all...
Has the capability to tick with a tocking,
All of our clocks.
With refusals to believe.
And denials to be heard to go on none stop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With The Hands On It Moving Backward
Opportunities may have already slipped,
Through your hands.
Bemoaning that with a new outlook on life,
Is not going to restore what has transpired.
Move forward.
Why stay reminiscing something never to change?
Some folks like to say it is never too late.
So they can continue to procrastinate.
However,
Find ANY clock tick tocking...
With the hands on it moving backward.
Once you have located one,
Then you have won every argument...
About wasting time and its benefits.
Until then,
I recommend you start appreciating your life for what it is.
Not what it could be 'if-the-onlys' you dream of could be in place.
It is highly suggested that today you start doing that.
Living your life!
Without first seeking to locate reliable crutches for support.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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86,400 Seconds
Make my ink darker
I want to write something
Make my eyes blinder
I want to think seeing
Beat my drums louder
I want to hear nothing
Make my sleep lighter
I want my dreams running
Hold my fears tighter
I want to live living
For today is the only day that is the day
of my life
86,400seconds dinging
God thrown in thin air
As each man causes pain for another
Love paused in mid-air
As hate is put on replay
Sitting in front of the Tv, I'm not
laughing
Staring at the front pages, I'm not
smiling
More are laid in the world's richest field
With all the treasures they came into the
world with
Tick, tick, tock, tock,86,396seconds
donging
Yestersecond's been wrapped in
nothingness
And no, no my dear tomorrow is not a
promise
Tick, tock, tick, tock,675seconds
pinging
Elephants gallantly striding
Grasses silently dying
In pain was life given me
My heart valves pumps pain like blood
Tock, tock, tick, tick,98seconds ponging
It's a brand new second
Forget the past second
Trade the killing, fighting and hating
For living, giving and loving
Just give me a second, I gotta go do
something
Tick.10seconds.
Tock, the clock tocking, ticked away the
last seconds
Tick, the bomb ticking made the last
record
Door opens, bomb opens, eye closes
In the fraction of that second
My heart speaks louder than my mouth
ever had
Mom, dad, thank you
Mee, Ty, miss you
God, Lord, love you
I love...
In my heart I wrote a quote inside
'Love, love, love'
Tock.00,000second.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Suffocating
The clock...
With loud sounds
Of tick tocking
On shoulders burdened
And all exits closed!
Find barred windows
Once unseen
Trapped within cages
They never dreamed
Locked them
Without fresh air
Even resources the have
Can no longer buy!
So they are there...
Suffocating from a choice,
And time they chose to die!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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