Posts Tagged ‘a soliloquy about verbosity’

verbose

Posted: August 24, 2013 in verbose
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Stop talking please.

Okay, gush a little more if you must — then hush. Going on too long makes the speech so very wrong.

Don’t you know that there is a time, between one set of words and another, when what happens only happens during silence?

Haven’t you, in the whomp and whoosh of wave-washed life, put on diving gear and dropped down into a sea of enforced quiet, sunk down within the deep walls of one of your own psyche’s submarine canyons and seen beautiful, quiet, coraline thoughts growing there?

And then, haven’t you, in wise and decompressive mode, surfaced — nicely aphonic. Remember that, the deep water, deep sea, depthy quiet, the next time you decide to send out a boat load of your verbal ware. Pause, then, and sail, softly on the quiet side of care.

We’ve too much practiced talk and squawk. Prattle, prattle, rock and rattle; tattle, tattle — it’s a custody battle. Hoarse, hoarse, remorse, remorse; of course, of course it’s a screamin’ divorce!

Prolix, bollixed.

Wind bags and wanton tongues yell and deafen the whole world.

Wise rags muff and fluff and heal with salves of quietness.

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Quiet

Posted: July 4, 2013 in Words
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Gush, then hush!
 
But there is so much to touch, in me and about you, so much angry red and such a sad, sad blue!
 
That’s so, but …
 
I have also noticed how the word throng bumps so Alice-In-Wonderland along, and how going on too long makes the speech so freakin’ Mad Hatter wrong, and how the rude riot against a healthy diet of quiet is not what anyone wants or needs.
 
What do we then do with our mad-dog word entourage and our thug-mug emotional devotional, with thoughts so far up the mentally unstable cliff that we are worn out from rappelling back down?
 
Well, how about if we just shut up?
 
It’s a thought …
 
You’ve seen how a verbose win, an armed and fired verbal din undoes within — and without.
 
Prattle, prattle, rock and rattle; tattle, tattle — it’s a custody battle. Hoarse, hoarse, remorse, remorse; of course, of course it’s a screamin’ divorce!
 
There is a zephyr, a cool, soft wind that blow through the mind when it stops talking …
 
We want that.We want more of that soft mental breeze, fragrant with reason, empathy and understanding, the one that wafts into the mind when it is still, the one that blows on the precipice and carries the cliff swallow up into the beautiful, quiet sky.