Time Is Dead, Killed In Meetings 6.3.2008 Poem by Margaret Alice

I am swimming, swimming, swimming, just keep
swimming, swimming, swimming, one word and
one phrase at a time, though my consciousness
experiences total lack of context and absolute
meaninglessness, I have my brain in a vice-grip
and we are making the trip through the document;
a most amazing occurrence, mostly I fall into the
holes in the network filaments of reality, but today
the vice-grip is steady, just plowing forwards,
irrespective of isolation and complete lack of
perspective; life had become totally meaningless
and still the vice-grip is holding, keeping steady;
one word at a time, one phrase towards eternity,
doing my job, putting down words in a series
of meanings that will bring nobody joy, will not
be blessed by a reply, a piece of work that will
fall down and die sooner than it has been written;
if this is why we have human rights and why I
have been born, then the world has to be
destroyed, the sooner the better, wasting the
magical gift of consciousness on white and grey,
colorless words in bleak sentences reporting
facts cold and empty, facts that offer nobody
succor, that does not sing or resonate with
anything, simply report on a meaningless
meeting and planning one such another –
people killing time, time is dead, it has been
killed in millions of meaningless meetings
held everywhere…