Some say I cannot mess with time;
I can’t affect a date.
For time,
They say,
Is set in stone;
A thing most obdurate.
“O-ho?” says I (If I were born
in England and deceased;
For speech
Like that
Was popular
In 1300 c.).
But dead, I’m not; as far as you
Can tell, by date of post –
A proof
That may
Not be as sound
Or proofy as you boast.
For time, you see, ‘s not set in stone;
Its solid state misgives.
For time’s,
They say,
An illusion –
Heck; time is relative.
©2023 Chel Owens
*This poem is in reference to my flexible ‘dates’ I sometimes adopt when catching up on writing.
Interesting Chel 💜
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😀 Yes.
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If time’s relative, in my case it’s a distant cousin. 😉
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Unfortunately, mine is a much closer relative.
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I would say the dates of Chel’s posts are absolute proof that time is an illusion. 🤣
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Exactly.
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😊
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Dr. Who?
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Yes, I’d forgotten he skips round time. This post is in reference to my ever-changing back-dating of my blog posts.
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Sounds like something I do, myself. I usually write my posts about a week ahead of their post dates. This will become apparent someday, when I die, and don’t respond to anybody’s comments.
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I’ve been back-dating, which is just like scheduling but could be even more awesome to do if I can get a friend to pull it off after *I* die.
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Time somehow keeps short-changing us.
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It’s a wily thing.
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It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind; therefore I conclude that time is a feminine relative!
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My Aunty Clockwise was forever trying to turn back time to her much missed youth
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I think you’re right!
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Time is precious 💕. Never feel wasted reading your Blog Post. Intersting ✨ I wish I hav more time – to write😊 spending worthy watching & reading 😸
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❤️ We always want more time.
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Time is definitely an illusion. But then again isn’t everything relative? Without X, Y cannot exist, can it? And how we be sure that it’s Chelsea and not the ghost of Chelsea who wrote this post, considering we might be living in a simulation with only the appearance of linear time. -The postmodern madman also sometimes known as the ordinary person.
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What if the simulacra of our future selves are the ones who authored and commented, only to back-schedule to now?
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You mean a virtual clone of us in the future blogging and commenting in the present? Then the term ghost of Chelsea or Nitin becomes redundant. Maybe cyberpunk, digitally implanted Chelsea who uploads her thoughts into a cyberspace that transcends time and space is a more accurate definition. Which brings me to the question, who are you really?
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We are not at liberty to say.
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I always knew there were forces behind the scenes, the real puppet masters who have more power than governments and constitutions. This only proves that the all-perceiving-digital-eye is real. I shall now scope out secret facilities in the Nevada Desert. Perhaps I’ll find the truth there. I’m on to you, Chelsea clone/Android/virtual recreation of a cyborg in the future.
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This was relatively good.
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I see what you did there.
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Some workmates opine there are not enough hours in the day. I retort that I am thankful for that, lest tomorrow be devoid of today’s leftovers.
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That’s beautiful, Jon.
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time is neither yours nor mine
sand threee minutes up to down
sift
smile frown
oh gosh gee
is this a manic pyrric victory?
yuup~
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⏳️ might be…
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no might. it is right. and that is that. ciao.
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