Hypno Haiku

Ok, maybe me,
feeling rather sleepy now,
wander down below.

The voice in the crowd

So tightly bound we find ourselves;
left to a new age,
only amicably will we survive.

The more we talk,
the more we understand the superficial,
and the better life is.

How tightly can springs of friendship find themselves
before there's nowhere else to go?

When wrapped around a spool,
all that's left
is to leave it be,
or ruin everything by losing it all.

I've tossed time and effort before,
just left it to sit
till nothing remains.

Disappear.

The value of connection is priceless,
yet here we are:

a generation that can let it rot,
without a second glance,
without the knowledge to know
what we've done.

We can never understand
what we don't build directly.
A word read will never equal
a word spoken in front of you.

I guess you can dump the past so easily
when you're not watching it unfold.

My words are gentle when spoken.
They could burn through the screen otherwise.

But it will never happen now,
for I shan't cloak from view again.

Speak to me, instead of write.
Words sound better that way.

Fast, slow, and other such phrases

Is this better?

To be quick,
or to the letter?

Some balance of both,
but imperfect in it's balance?

Is it a feat to unsheathe the pen,
scribble a line,
then return it to it's cap?

Or would it be proper to sit on each word,
measuring each proper meaning,
and then to write it cursively,
to give each shape beauty?

It's a personal matter
of personal style.

Great meaning can be derived from both,
for those who hunt life's answers.

We're all blind in such excursions,
as we're never sure when it's found.

Just take what's written
and run with it.

Efficiently,
or with some manner
of proper wording,

it'll have meaning to someone who needs some.