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bonham-1
Poems2
Words137
The obscurity of the in-between is shocking. That stage, frozen in ambiguity, lightyears from that blossom tree, yet Not such a silly, miniscule seed recently planted by that whirlwind of emotion, Woven, threaded, interconnected through a tapestry of raw sensation. Or, it may have stemmed from one shocking, vibrant explosion, One moment in your time. The In-between remains quite shocking. That barren, grey, maze-like no man’s land where I truly find myself lost and out of touch with her. That Child in Nursery, struggling to read and comprehend The meaning behind language and human behavior comes flooding back to me Like those clouded tears. I have always struggled with this. But now more than ever my feelings are reaching a summit-like crescendo. The silence, the obscurity, the ambiguity is killing me. What is appropriate? What us too much and Contrastingly too little, What is distasteful? How do you navigate this labyrinth of perplexing questions? I see and feel the embers slowly dying before me. How do you salvage the decline of something once beautiful, Once real, once divine? The butterflies are still here. I thought they were never to return. They accompanied That galloping racehorse in my chest that day and have ceased to stop. Perhaps such questions are futile, even counter-productive. Perhaps my fault lies in trying to understand something so alien to my nature. I have a lot to give. If this stage comes to pass, it will probably become a forgotten memory Amongst an ecstasy of beautiful shared pleasures that will glow, flourish and grow. In this moment however, I fear and I struggle. The obscurity of the in-between is shocking.
0
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
bonham-1
Obscuring Stagnation in the In-Between.
The obscurity of the in-between is shocking. That stage, frozen in ambiguity, lightyears from that blossom tree, yet Not such a silly, miniscule seed recently planted by that whirlwind of emotion, Woven, threaded, interconnected through a tapestry of raw sensation. Or, it may have stemmed from one shocking, vibrant explosion, One moment in your time. The In-between remains quite shocking. That barren, grey, maze-like no man’s land where I truly find myself lost and out of touch with her. That Child in Nursery, struggling to read and comprehend The meaning behind language and human behavior comes flooding back to me Like those clouded tears. I have always struggled with this. But now more than ever my feelings are reaching a summit-like crescendo. The silence, the obscurity, the ambiguity is killing me. What is appropriate? What us too much and Contrastingly too little, What is distasteful? How do you navigate this labyrinth of perplexing questions? I see and feel the embers slowly dying before me. How do you salvage the decline of something once beautiful, Once real, once divine? The butterflies are still here. I thought they were never to return. They accompanied That galloping racehorse in my chest that day and have ceased to stop. Perhaps such questions are futile, even counter-productive. Perhaps my fault lies in trying to understand something so alien to my nature. I have a lot to give. If this stage comes to pass, it will probably become a forgotten memory Amongst an ecstasy of beautiful shared pleasures that will glow, flourish and grow. In this moment however, I fear and I struggle. The obscurity of the in-between is shocking.
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30
'The Bohemian Prince, all sad and alone, Not fit for a Prince, Reading Gaol was his home, Hard labour and toil, your sentence you earned it, A painting, a portrait, the importance of earnest A century later, your pardon is granted, And your freedom endures in the minds you enchanted, Your life and your work still thrive on the stage, For it is personalities- not principles that move the age'
0
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 7:27 AM UTC
bonham-1
The Bohemian Prince
'The Bohemian Prince, all sad and alone, Not fit for a Prince, Reading Gaol was his home, Hard labour and toil, your sentence you earned it, A painting, a portrait, the importance of earnest A century later, your pardon is granted, And your freedom endures in the minds you enchanted, Your life and your work still thrive on the stage, For it is personalities- not principles that move the age'
Continue reading...
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