Quickened Is the Ticking

There is no more than the shadows of ghosts,
Appearing in the troubled eyes...
Of those perplexed by the days betraying,
The shredding of power bases dared.

Hour upon dreaded hour,
Ears are exposed to hear...
Each thunderous crack,
Of foundations splitting apart to entrap.

And quickened is the ticking of the clock,
Under watchful eyes nonstop.
As a flow of placing blame remains unchanged.
While a tossing about of accusations,
Refuses to cease a decreasing sanity increasing shame.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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