There isn’t the nurturing of the timing

or the vagrant lights of time immemorial

it is the rights of all to the thing

that makes it durable to the rights

of mainstream use, the use

of the timing belt to make it really cool

to be able to beat to the drums

of Nature.

It should be right to know it well

that you are One with all you sell

out to the failings of the bells and rings

that stir your heart’s will to the right-timed

well of fables and asks about the tiny

use of the red white and blue

too, to use it to the ends

of tiny-most user-friendly tyning

belts of war machined gains and losses.

The shod are torn between the use of all

and the sorting out of the renter and resting

places of the fallen who do not know if

they shall ever be there for the righteous

use of the tiny well known howling

of sawn-off shots of gore

about the tiring and the lyre

of the pursuit of all to the deadend

arse of time.


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