Free For All Friday: Time Flies

The clock caught my attention yesterday. It was a few minutes before 4. I had been working since early on.

Suddenly, I heard a frantic ticking noise. An old building, I thought the pipes may simply have been acting up. Then I looked around. The clock on the wall spun wildly. I don't know how many revolutions it made, but it transfixed me from the moment I saw the hour hand running a race with the second hand and winning. My focus lapsed as the minute hand lapped the second hand several times and brought the hours with it. It spun and spun, wound around several times with incessant ticking. For a moment, I thought a spectre had eyes on me. I wondered if it had a time sensitive message it wanted me to decode.

Then, my poetry senses ticked on, and I thought that the spinning clock screamed sign language with its hands that time is short; that we never really have any control over how fast hands will move. That sometimes, a few moments can feel like hours, and conversely, hours can pass by in a matter of moments.

I then began to wonder if some kind of grave hands had reached out to tell me that my time was going by too quickly. That if only I'd let go of the past, I could focus on the new to know the now. That if only I could hold the hands of the clock like I held the hands of girlfriends past, maybe it wouldn't feel like running away so fast.

Then I remembered that I'm single, and I had exes for reasons which usually involved me letting go all too easily. So perhaps the hands were signing to not let go so simply. To hold on to what I could and turn nevers into nows, thrust my hands into the future, grab dreams, and let them pull me forward into a time I can't yet conceive.

I would have pleaded with the clock to let me know which interpretation was truth, but I never knew. Sometimes hands are quicker than eyes, and so when the hands finally stopped their magic show, I sat stumped in place. I brushed the rings underneath my eyes and felt old, tired, as though I had a story to tell.

I cracked the knuckles on my worn hands and set my fingertips to work.
I looked at the clock.
The clock looked back.

Coach...Punch your Light's out!

Coaching is serious business! I'll run these little poets into the ground until they sprout up as gods of slam! When I'm done with them their dreams will be 3 minutes or less! No grace, No mercy! But enough about them...As you can see from my profile pic I am a Delicious Black Warrior Queen and this is my introduction...It's FRIDAY!

I am a fun-loving bitch of an asshole, which basically means I'm the shit. If you say otherwise I will only recognize you as a hater (this makes you significant to the process). As a group we chose days to add to this blog...I'm calling mine "Thuggin' Thursdays w/ Light" I don't know why, yet and it may change depending on how I feel. Eye'm the craziest person you never met. Eye live for my art. Eye have this crazy notion that we are all built for greatness; where we fail is either not taking the time to figure out who we are or allowing others to decide what our great is. If you know you're great at something...go ALL in...with no apologies. I have been a full-time Artist for over 11 years and the times I was least productive is when I second guess myself or try to 'water down' my capabilities. Now, the mystery unfolds...I am not arrogant...I am brilliant! I implore you to get to the point in your lives where you can say the same.

Notice I didn't say I was better than you, but I am better for it. I want my attitude to be highly contagious, to the point of starting a plague. Imagine it! Everyone being great and there being less hate, because everyone will be doing their own thing and somehow it'll fit into the necessary balance of life and societal progress.

Stay tuned to everyday of the week...Each team member has chosen a day...Fridays are free for alls

Don't be afraid to Punch Your Light's Out! (Let 'em Shine)

Light