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TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

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Published by James W. Barnes
Time, Mortality and the loss of Self
Time, Mortality and the loss of Self

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Published by: James W. Barnes on Oct 17, 2012
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11/01/2012

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TICK TOCK Tick tock ? Clock. Who will remember the History Dickory Dock?

Who will speak for, The Rights of the Dead? And the treatment, We now know as “Shock”.

The first toy that I remember, was a clock. I vaguely remember the numbers being removable And the hands being movable And how much, I loved that clock. I remember not understanding, How that clock wasn't mine. Well; It was, but only for a time. It belonged to my sister. I believe, that clock, Was the stop-watch for emotion's crime. It was there at the Consciousness Starting Line. No “ready; set”, Just a silent push of the button And an unbridled (yes we still ride horses) explosion, Of Frustration, Anger, Resentment, Sorrow, upon its taking And Joy, then Guilt, on its return. I spoke to one of my Grandsons, the other day. He confirmed my suspicions. The Children at his school are not taught how to read, An Analogue Clock. Nobody knew the word “Analogue” until the Digital world was born. And soon, nobody will know that word, all over again. It will be buried somewhere, in the History Books, Referred to, only by Academics. Cultures change, Religions (don't get me started), Rights change, people change. People change 'till they're dead. They even change after they're dead. I'm not speaking in a macabre sense; but in a memory sense The Dead live only in History's page, In Memoires, Data banks

And the memories of those left living. Those memories fade and alter, Until the living left, are no longer. Memories stored in the brain, can be lost and altered. The mysteries of the mind, have kept Science and Medicine occupied, Ever since I can Remember (Pun intended). Electrical stimulation, has been used in various incarnations, Since the birth of Electricity, in a Hope, To change Personality and Emotional states. It may have helped some, And Fried the brain of others, But rest assured, we all live in our Brains And when Our Brain slowly breaks down, We inevitably disappear, Into some distant memory, of a “Long Ago” past, When the Time was read in a Redundant way, Relegated to a lesser known Fact, And Positioned in a Segment of a “Did you know?” show.

Ra's Haul, Shadows Fall, Weeping Sands, Sweeping Hands, Ring a Rosy, Smell through a Posy, Bless You and your Achoo!, As your Soul, it escapes you.

James W. Barnes October 13-17, 2012

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