What are these tangled words
but meandering musings of the lost?
Bone weary and tempest-tossed,
confusing thoughts;
run in place, watch every face
become familiar, however strange.
Each rehearsed expression predicted with precision
as structure becomes a prison,
a poison, rotting from the inside.
High tides of pride,
empty promises and disguised lies,
with every clone caught up in dreams
of individuality.
Back to reality, real mediocrity,
comedic tragedy:
self-made chains and
willfully chosen ignorance.
I lock these lines on pages
that age with bad grace,
sounding staged and overplayed,
hidden away with all false prophecies,
remaining only as a vague sense of apprehension
in the space between waking and sleep.
Comments
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How sweet the music
when the nightengale sings
and unsought for treasures
in silent warmth discovered -
Ahhhh . . . she has strung together many lines
and I like that. Only a couple of sugestions (right now at least). More "I like" comments than altering suggestions. I can't wait to see your revision.
What are these tangled words
but the musings of the lost?
Don’t like the two “the”s. I would suggest a better description of the musings instead of “the” OR use a different word for “the” lost. OR just eliminate the first “the”and leave it at that.
Bone weary and tempest-tossed,
a bit cliched?? They tell me what you what me to see but somewhat tiredly. And, before you say it, I know “tossed” rhymes. So, one must be very creative.
confusing thoughts;
run in place, watch every face
become familiar, however strange.
Each rehearsed expression <<– I like this and the next line in combination
predicted with precision
as structure becomes a prison,
a poison that rots from the inside.
I know it might be a tense problem but I like “rotting” instead of “that rots”
High tides of pride,
empty promises and disguised lies, <<---- like a lot
with every clone caught up in <<– I like this and the next line in combination
dreams of individuality.
Back to reality, real mediocrity,
comedic tragedy:
self-made chains and
willfully chosen ignorance. <<– like a lot
I lock these lines on pages <<– like a lot
that age with bad grace, <<– like a lot
sounding staged and overplayed,
hidden away with all false prophecies,
remaining only as a vague sense of apprehension <<– like a lot
in the space between waking and sleep. <<– like a lot
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Fabulous job! Excellent rhyme, excellent metre, the piece just flows from word to word and grips my attention at every moment.
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