Dancing to the Rhythm of the Man with the Clock

By Thomas Caterer

Beaming a wide grin he thus spoke ‘tick tock tick tock’
The man in the bowler hat and white suspenders
‘You’ll dance till you die to the rhythm of my clock’
From princes to paupers we’re all gloomy dead enders

‘Right leg, left leg twist, now right arm, left arm swing’
The conductor merrily waves and weaves his batons full of hubris
‘Do not fail to dance to my tune, poor helpless thing’
Empty feeling marionettes singing and dancing to fill the abyss

It’s all on offer in the blood-soaked mall of the macabre
Fill yourself up on all the shiny things in the endless spree
There’s a price on it all; from love to peace to laughter
Ravenously feasting to fill the hole; that cosmic, undying ‘me’

Night Thoughts

By Thomas Caterer

There is a chill in that spot
in that corner of the mind
Lost around the bend
Lost in time’s labyrinth

The dull thud of the cascading crush
of dead dreams’ post-mortem spasms
crash inside the cylindrical mind
cycling frenetically through images,
sounds, colours, smells, feelings
callously oscillating in time’s velodrome

It’s a feeling of the uncanny
that feeling of the soul leaving the body
You try to shove it back in but can’t
Try to convince yourself you don’t mind if you die

The night thoughts are inescapable
Every memory played back in such a sharp, clear hue
it’s painful to see all the hurt and lost opportunities
Every memory plays back crystal clear, more real than the real,
more alive than the living present

The zombies in your decaying head
have grown too big for their black dress shoes
they’re keeping you up again
with their morbid sense of humour
and devilish sense of timing

Entropy’s smiling like the grinning skull
of Zen fables, cheerful in its evergreen peace
its humour’s left me in stitches
reeling from the laughter, clutching the sides
Lost in time’s labyrinth