Poetry

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THOSE PENDELUM FOLK'S THEY KNOW EVERY STROKE;THEY KNOW EVERY DAY AND
SOUND IS EVER BETWEEN ONE,TWELVE,A QUARTER,A HALF,3 QUARTER'S TOO,
FROM THEIR HOME THEY DO NOT ROAM FAST OR SLOW;OR EVEN STOPPED,A FACE
WITH TWO EYES AND TWO HAND'S AS WELL PERFECTED'L SUITED AS TIME THEY
TELL,IN AN EIGHT DAY CLOCK TO BE WOUND UP WHEN THEY STOP TIME TAKES A
PAUSE,PART OF THE MAKER'S CLAUSE CLOCK SAYS TICK,TOCK;IN ITS OOWN QUIET
WAY IN A ROOM THAT KNOWS SILENCE AS AN ESCORT OF TIME,TICK TOCK SOUNDS
FINEIN MANKIND'S FUTURE HISTORY GOD KNOWS THIS MYSTERY,IN ITS VERY OWN WAY TICK TOCK IS OKAY IT KNOW'S PROSE IS FINE SAY THIS OUNDLING AMEN'S
A SIGN. F
Joo.

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