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Moominaba — A Bottle
Published: 2007-07-01 07:54:46 +0000 UTC; Views: 161; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 1
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Description Words that flow with lucidity
like a verbalized procession
Intimate suicides that go on
as though no one cares enough to stop
Enigmas left unsolved
Because we aren't meant to know?
Kids lying on the grass
As if those twenty years aren't past
4x3 meters of freedom
independence for the caged
Blood wasted from a country
that was never really ours or theirs
The slow ticking of a clock
as illusion passes and goes out the door
And one person sitting on a rug, wishing
inspiration would be wasted on the uninspired
  
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Moominaba - Dissonance
Comments: 8

robearthebrit [2007-07-02 04:46:28 +0000 UTC]

I would really like you to explain this one to me because I find it to be really interesting. Great work. Keep it up!

👍: 0 ⏩: 1

Moominaba In reply to robearthebrit [2007-07-02 11:47:09 +0000 UTC]

I guess it might be a little vague from the outside.
Basically this poem encompasses thoughts that have been lying in my head for a long time.
Before I started writing it it was being formed in my mind as if on its own, and the way it flowed like that led me to open it as I had.
The rest of it goes on to describe some things I've been thinking about.
I hope this makes it clearer. If you want more explanations about the content of the poem just say so.

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robearthebrit In reply to Moominaba [2007-07-02 16:52:51 +0000 UTC]

Sure, I'd like more explanations. Your current explanation did help.

👍: 0 ⏩: 1

Moominaba In reply to robearthebrit [2007-07-03 10:06:36 +0000 UTC]

"Intimate suicides" refers to the self-destructive quality I've observed in my friends lately, which they seem reluctant to do anything about, let alone except help.
"Enigmas" is just a thought about the halting of progress in the name of religion.
"Kids lying on the grass" were my thoughts of the past.
"4x3 meters of freedom" speaks of my leaving home and moving to my own apartment, but it's so small and so near home, that it feels as if nothing changed.
"Blood wasted from a country" is just my general retrospect of the situation around here.
"The slow ticking of a clock" is about how I feel that time is fleeting, but very slowly, as if it isn't even real.
The last verse describes the situation in which I was when I wrote the poem.

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robearthebrit In reply to Moominaba [2007-07-03 20:57:48 +0000 UTC]

Ah I see. Very nice! Well thought and well composed.

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Moominaba In reply to robearthebrit [2007-07-04 11:58:31 +0000 UTC]

Once again I thank you.

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WalkingOffAPrecipice [2007-07-01 20:41:29 +0000 UTC]

This is the uncovering of forgotten ideas.

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Moominaba In reply to WalkingOffAPrecipice [2007-07-02 11:43:28 +0000 UTC]

Along with the opening of long bottled ideals and thoughts.

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