I Am Your Clock

I am your clock

I am your religion

I am your shotgun mechanical bride,

nothing is done without my approval.

I own you,

I decide how long you sleep

and how must rest

you are ever allowed.

I decide what you desire,

I deny you time to think,

I am the mirror of constant humiliation.

That follows and shadows you

wherever you go

and blocks out the light

at the end of every tunnel you try.

Be on time,

be on schedule

always feel

life you’re always late

and need more scolding and punishment.

Do not daydream,

do not dilly-dally,

do no fall behind

wings are flapping right behind you.

You know what’s coming next

as I swoop down like a hungry owl

and sink my talons into your back

and drag you back to square one again,

the pain gets a little worse every time.

Crash,

crumple,

do not pass go,

do not collect

your dignity and your self respect.

Give up,

it’s over,

no time allowed

to try something you like.

The bills were all due yesterday

you’ve failed,

you’ve through

first we form our habits,

then they form us.

We dress up as someone else every day

gingerbread houses,

fireplace surprises,

what tastes the best

the witches won’t let you have.

These days, having a baby

is like what having a BMW used to be.

While they’re asleep

play their New Age cassettes

to transmit subliminal messages,

I like mom,

I like school,

I like to study,

I like rules.

I am the schoolteacher

who yelled at you for not paying attention

and shamed you in front of the entire class

and dragged you around the room by the hair.

This is what happens to boys and girls

whose penmanship is messy

be neat, like the others.

Follow orders

obey what is put on front of you,

imagination is the ultimate sin,

you can’t be creative the rest of your life,

your counselor wants a word with you,

if you liked school, you’ll love work,

resign yourself to a job you’ll hate,

get a hobby – but keep it in the garage.

Shove yourself into a slot

despise your ideas

your boss knows best.

We can’t all do what we want to do

always settle for what you’re told to expect

do not take chances,

you might fail,

you might fail.

You don’t want to find out the hard way

how our society treats

the misfits who make mistakes.

Bad,

failure,

bad,

failure,

homeless,

depression,

mental hospital,

murder.

Born on the cutting room floor,

die in the bin by the door.

Hypothermia of the spirit

why do people chase

so many useless toys

in search of the perfect baby sitter.

“For just $19.95 and just thirteen minutes of your busy day,

you can have ‘the full, rich experience of parenthood

without the mess of the real thing.’ Its called Video Baby.”

Creative Programming, Inc., offer “All of the enjoyment –

and none of the commitment.”

I am your calendar,

there is no escape

I am why you’re afraid

to respect yourself.

I lead you down garden path after path

with carrots on a stick.

I’ll let you taste but never embrace

peek in the wrong door, I slam it on your fingers.

Go back,

adventure is not allowed.

Go back – not allowed!

I leave you exhausted, henpecked and afraid.

Never quite enough money,

never enough nerve

to reach out for something better

than the grind you call your life.

The hatch of your hamster cage is open

but guess who waits just outside the door.

Stay on your treadmill

keep running on that wire wheel

briefcase in hand,

money rains down just out of reach

you’ll burn out soon enough.

It’s all part of the plan

when you’re no longer useful

you can finally retire

to the glue factory of your choice.

Free at last

to scratch your head

wondering what happened.

Free at last

I bid you goodbye

on your own

to wait to die.