Tock Tick By Chris Walker

I pace around my ten by twelve
And count the hours passing by
First one then two
No wait, just one
It's hard to tell
The clocks all read
Two O'clock you fool
But am I wrong?
I thought it was...
I could have sworn...
That it was just
Three in the morn
I think...
I thought...
I knew it was
It was! It was!
Then how?
But how...

Oh shit...
Daylight savings time again.

Chris Walker

I Lived A Life

They started in the night, neither dreams nor memories, but something simply remembered.
A flash of emotion, an image of a loved one, the face of a brother.
These images I have never seen yet remember so well
flash through my mind without any sense of reason for their exsistence.
I know their names, I know their faces,
I feel the love for the wife I see,
but it is and is not me that lived that life.
They exsist as mere fractions of time that stretch beyond the reaches of knowledge.
Each day I know more, but still I do not know why or how.

In the end does it really matter why or how?
They exsist and that is enough,
I remember the life of a stranger known as myself.
He lives a life, he loves a lover and he lived a life.

So why can't I get on with mine?


Chris Walker, 2009

Face to Face, Chris Walker, 2009

What can I say?
I was young and foolish,
Following the teachings of those
I thought I could trust.

Day to day I listened,
To them speak the words
they thought I should know.

Day to Day, I gathered what they spoke,
Never questioning,
Never thinking,
Never knowing the truth
Hidden inside the words I heard.

They told me stories of happiness and eternal joys,
Of riches beyond a mans imagination,
and the pain that would be felt no more.

So I beleived.
I'm sure I did.
I read and sang,
I knelt and spoke to the wind,
The words I thought I should say.

I did the things the others did.
I saw them happy,
Speaking of the joys,
It had brought them.
So I beleived, I'm sure I did.

Day by day,
I read and sang,
I did the things the others did,
But hope began to drain.

I did the things the others did,
Not for myself,
It held no hope,
No joy,
No eternal promises,
Any longer.

So I did the things the others did,
Not for myself,
But just for them.
They see the face I gave them.
They see the face I created,
Just for them.

But day by day,
That face grows weak,
And to keep it up,
Every minute,
Of every hour,
Of every day.
Hurts more than I had ever thought.

So pain by pain,
I hide the truth,
And count the days,
Til they see the truth.

Chris Walker, 2009