By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Eleven eleven has always sort
to unhinge my thoughts and perhaps I aught,
to understand its repeating pledge,
each time I see it brings me to the edge.
Of wonder I am hooked for sure,
why eleven eleven knocks on my door.
The clock must conspire to deceive my eyes,
so many times no compromise.
Each time I look well there it is,
eleven eleven my clock it says.
All day and night I’m driven to see,
this time that appears to follow me.
But what’s it telling this bleary-eyed soul,
why eleven eleven, it takes a toll.
It only happens twice a day,
but regardless I’m there come what may.
Is it a message of doom or a tainted dream,
that wakes me up or so it seems,
I wish I understood its intent,
the meaning behind it malevolence.
It stalks me here and stalks me there,
no matter where I am its there,
On clocks and watches and computers too,
there’s no escape no eleven ‘o two.
Just eleven eleven it’s always been,
my awareness can never time redeem.
So I’m stuck in this my time dimension,
regardless of unwanted attention,
A life of time not understood,
and waiting me misunderstood.
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