A Poem about the Psychology of Time

Open in the right palm

A hammer

And crystal-clear tears in the sight of waves.

The barber tries to calmly shave my captain

But some strange noise afflicts the water

Tic ~ toc, tic ~ toc… like a military march

And we all knew the World would not be the same.  

Long ago, I remember, the tragic captain

Could laugh, cry, be silent…

Long ago, I recall, his narcissist friend, crippled in pride,

Was abandoned by his own family;

My captain saved him, big mistake.

Now and then, when alone, my captain tries to persuade himself that every thought of his

Is just in moral merit

So that it becomes his duty to avenge the young narcissist

And bring peace in his right red-coat void.

Now and then, when armed with cynicism, my captain howls:

“Now I become Death, the destroyer of our Land"; and then he exhumes…

And we all think the same,   

But we never trust him near a crocodile clock.