#641 - on the day of the stolen hour

 

3.x.22

641

2.276

on the day of the stolen hour

 

one less to worry, decide, devote

 

you don’t have time to read this

I don’t know how I found the time

to scribble this down at all

 

efficiencies!

productivity gains!

it’s .416 per cent less of us

(and follow on after the decimal point)

 

we all still got our meals

tended the purring watches by hand

gave way at last to their impatience

 

there won’t be any opportunity

for redaction today

 

but time is not as bad as you think

time is not the culprit

it’s all those looms, the mills – those satans

 

of course I had been in training for this

a minute here, a moment there

had to happen sooner and then again later

 

all well and good

but where was / where is the stolen hour now?

 

looked for it all over

before we called the police

… they’d lost theirs too

were a clock down

 

no one had dreamt a full quota

some crook had tried to shoot out the daylights

 

tried to dry out the clepsydra

threw a cloud over the sundial

no dice!

 

really, with these odds

with this kind of crime

you’d think there’s be other things missing

 

but actually managed to cram everything in

a case of don’t think, just get on with things

 

busier than ever

I mean, more full

on such a day

no time for niceties

 

you could go easy on yourself

say, bugger, what’s the point?

just stay in bed and skip it

 

and they, the day’s defeated

do so all through life

 

today

less books will be read

there’ll be less sex

less blaming

expect a shorter poem

 

all this seems innocent at first

 

just another country

where we’ve given up the garden

where everything green has won

 

it’s after the last blue moon

end of tether

clocks go to pieces

or tend them today

 

some say there’s less to get through

you find that kind everywhere

 

but there’s no time to watch the curtain’s fade

or feel the cows’ confusion

 

we have been herded into a future

old before our time

 

it’s the government took my hour

next they’ll have the birds from the trees

think of a number, a colour

what’s your favourite food?

 

it’s magic I tell you

 

the gone hour swallows everything

you end up with

half cuddles, half kisses

the dog gets half a walk

 

less time for the spider to gather its prey

less time for the insects to bite

ah but this isn’t the shortest day

no, this is depraved

 

the bastards want us up earlier

it’s like they own the light

 

you can bet the bosses

would never have let it be a working day

 

no, it’s the people’s time that’s gone

and on the Sabbath too!

come to think of it

Sunday’s the day God stole

so they have a precedent

 

do you feel it slipping

slipping away from you?

 

why do you waste precious time reading this?

 

empty out pockets, read entrails

chase stars

you won’t find that hour again

 

and this is how, my friends,

we were

chased by the clock

on the day of the stolen hour

 

but mark my words

the peanut populous will not stand for this fad

they’ll beat those hour hands

into garden stakes

 

I’m giving it six months, tops