An hour forward, Time again slides its hands

down my back pocket and fondles for change,

urging me to deal with the loss,

to make up Time and have an account settled early;

I wasted the moment,

I slept instead of being productive,

the type of action that would have a black mark

put aside you in a Kangaroo court of law,

the sentence…

undisclosed for now,

be satisfied, let your gloriously white teeth gnash

and grind…but hey, stop

for a minute and chew on this,

my hour, I will put my clock forward when I like,

if my Sunday is not going to consist

of anything at all apart from Time

spent in solitude, then what the hell

does it matter if at two

in the morning I set the clock for

Government insisted three A.M.

or if at four in the afternoon

and slightly bored, I move it on an hour,

same place, different time;

I have invented unregulated time travel

and it has not made me feel any loss,

in fact it has left me guilt free

and I still had a lay in…

Rusted Time, cannot be beaten,

however,

Government’s insistence can be screwed with.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017