Part 1
Let the stage be set.
Let's take it back and reset.
On a sultry victorian night,
with galloping mustangs tugging the wood of creaky carriages on streets of greyscaled cobble.
Swanky pedestrians on either side with their heads up, angling linearly with the arrow of time towards the future.
A nuclear family laughing pushing a new dawn's crib over the constellations above.
Father in his tan suit and mother in her turquoise soapy sundress.
Dad's left hand guiding the newborn's carriage.
Dad and mom's hand intertwined in a showing of love
and marriage.
A group of friends in denim torn jackets, edgy and sharpy hair, cut skirt silhouetted blouses.
The overpowering air of rebellion is palpable but it cuts the tension in the air like a sharp breeze on a humid night.
Hustling and bustling through the pavement they go, bonding intrinsically with each other like their feet glued to the ground by the adhesive of gravity.
That bond further strengthened by the glare of elders who only saw them as an act of depravity
or insanity.
The boy and girl next door,
Making the street their dancefloor,
With a slow dance that almost made the world stand still.
In that moment, their embrace fills
the crevices of their glasses from half full to tip toeing on the cliff where they feel most alive.
Reality as real as it comes, for this is live.
Part 2
On the outside looking in, it's romantic.
It's spontaneous.
I may be accused of being a nostalgic romantic but I don't feel the same electricity in the digital age.
TIME
The Immersive Moment Experience.
I doubt we even experience things these days and that both shows our inherent insecurity and the diminishing of the present.
We fail to open our wrapped gift instead opting to be more preoccupied with sharing the moment.
In an embrace with lover, is it the love you love or the idea of it? The way it's packaged. The way it's cased. Feels good doesn't it that Apple?
The dopamine we are high off comes from relishing something inherently someone else doesn't have.
I guess we both have a problem.
Sharing highlights the insecurity of lack.
And the ungrateful audience further feels that same insecurity.
Multiplier effect.
At the end of this play, will you even catch this ending? Or will when red, draping curtains shut close, I sense then you will only open your eyes
to see what you missed.
SHIT.
Fear Of Missing The Moment.
FOMO.
YOU ARE READING
THE IMPROMPTU MANIFEST.
Poetry" SPARK!" Poems Of Utter Spontaneity. The Raw and Unfiltered Emotion Of Living Life Without Cuffs and With Your Heart On Your Sleeve. The Pushing Of Intuition Into The Everyday World. Let It Flow. Let It Flow. And Let Words Spark Life To LIFE.
