The taste of time on my tongue

The taste of time on my tongue
Is a bitter old penny coin,
Then the menstrual cycle begins
The moon melts in the sky like cheese through a grater.

My heart a mere torn bag of dust
That she dragged down a neglected city street;
It feels like sliced ham now,
It feels like stopping for good.

The key in the fir tree forests dust
Each fir tree pinnacle is a face or a clock
I need an old racing car to take me to the congregation
Before the drip even drops into the bottle.

Time is played with like a guessing game
Tension cracks the clock like an egg
The chick inside explodes like a clockwork spring
A page of the Bible sails into the sky like a magic carpet.


Teacher who are you?
Amongst the turnstiles of mouths
Driving in my wooden car
The wind filling out her blouse

Teacher who are you?
Why do you not appear?
Amongst the stones of the galaxy clock
An ant sized man walking around the ear

Teacher are you really there
Behind the busy black betting board
Striding like a giant amongst the forest firs

Teacher what I mean is
Your old iron hat is made of rust
Do you think you can ever teach
The angels in the dust

Teacher I can see now
The iron in the mould
A newly created word
Is liquid and too hot to hold/speak

Oh the teacher in me
Is slower than the book
That rages history like a fire
Into which I look

Oh teacher are you scared then
The real you has been lost
Does anyone really see you there?
Covered in leaves and frost

Oh teacher why can’t you teach me
Teach me some common sense
“It’s because I am challenged by
A hated woman holding a fence

And in that fence the gate of life
Always seems to be closed
How can I teach you anything?
About where that pathway goes


A woman’s love is needed
I cannot teach alone
A woman’s love is needed
And a happy home

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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