2 Poems

Tick Ticker Tocked

Clocking of time, the passing of momentum.
Leading blind the sub divine, shine and gloss, a constant host.
Ready, set into the motion.
Hostile hues; the aura filled shades of confusion and hesitancy.
To decide leaves far many a question that will remain unanswered.
Altered text feeds ridicule, exultant mouths too few to nourish,
play roles in improvised renewal, to sense / concur on selected paths.
Skinning through, changing awe, far outweighed to try deplore,
minor sanctions, bridging gaps, fuels the question or perhaps,
results in strangers streaming to, magnetic depots and ways to rue.
The passing of a special guest, hyped inferior none the less.

Boys

Cannot have kettle noise, clotting agents sent as boys.
Disguised in skin, rubber hair, on the prowl in attempts to snare.
The grandest prize, trophied head, tracking until, all is bled.
Dry and parched without one drop, of ongoing life, they will not stop