Of my mind. Time Out of focus, out of Sync. Time just being…

Time remembering Who and Why I am, Time knowing the “what” of me.

Time to be Dirt, and Dirty. To Dig my Hands into the Earth, to Turn Soil, The Soil of Me.

Time to Reason out the Rhyme, Ride out the Time, Restart the Climb.

Time Immemorial, Time Irrelevant, Time Never Wasted, Time tasted?

Time taken to Taste the Life, To Heighten the Resonance, To Become a Reality.

My God! I need More TIME, he shouts, his back to the Stabbing Wind, his Words being torn from his Lips, like Leaves from a Timeless Tree, MORE TIME, My God!

I’m out of time, spent my last dime on an empty line…

-TIME OUT- this is not the End of Times, the Last of Rhyme, NO Indeed, we have Lots of Time, to Tow the Line, it will all be fine!  …fade to black…36745241-04D0-49FB-B4FA-C2625542B760

Categories: art

Susan T. Martin

I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...