I lay there so silently
Blinking, thinking, quietly
In the darkness in the gloom
Impending, coming, looming doom
End of thoughts, pond’ring not
Mind is blank, no song, no plot
Emotions come not to me
And yet they do, constantly
No line, no order, lords Chaos come
It’s as good as if there were none.
To be poem is to be complex and yet
Too compound is this to be writ and set.
I think not what this problem means
For when my mind touches there, void endless seems
Falling nowhere in the nothing, mind recoils
Snap me back to life and its foils.
Help! it’s a cry. Floundering as I lie
Help! it’s a scream. Splitting at my seam
In this mediocre cycle of a life-dream.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 10:24 PM UTC
I lay there so silently
Blinking, thinking, quietly
In the darkness in the gloom
Impending, coming, looming doom
End of thoughts, pond’ring not
Mind is blank, no song, no plot
Emotions come not to me
And yet they do, constantly
No line, no order, lords Chaos come
It’s as good as if there were none.
To be poem is to be complex and yet
Too compound is this to be writ and set.
I think not what this problem means
For when my mind touches there, void endless seems
Falling nowhere in the nothing, mind recoils
Snap me back to life and its foils.
Help! it’s a cry. Floundering as I lie
Help! it’s a scream. Splitting at my seam
In this mediocre cycle of a life-dream.
I don't really like this one. I suppose that's because it took on an entirely different life of its own, and nobody ever understood what I actually intended for it to mean. Also, the flow gets wonked after line 10.
This poem was written August 23, 2010, at 11:30pm.
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