Dramatized exit,
Kelly Whiteside
Aug 15, 2011

I can disappear too.
I can so easily
Remove myself
From the eyes
And lives
Of others,
Yet still be here.
From the shadows
I can watch
As life goes on
Without me.
Nobody will realize
That there’s
One less person present.
Without the
Dramatized exit,
One can fade,
Hide,
Slowly
Disappear…

Just like that.

Or anything shown like the royals dramatized dreams.
jeffrey conyers
jeffrey conyers
Jun 17, 2013      Jun 18, 2013

Love, it's isn't like the movies.
And nothing like a Disney's cartoon.
Yes, you might find your Prince Charming.
And your Cinderella too.

Just realize, love isn't like the movies.
Or like one of those old religious drama.
Where the King visualized his Queen?

Or anything shown like the royals dramatized dreams.

Once reality kicks in and you adjust.
Then you come to the realization.
Love only works when you put your hard work effort into it.

You'll have disagreements.
You'll have arguments too.
Just remember, love isn't like the movies.
And it shouldn't be.
When it comes to you.

purposefully. get up swiftly in an over dramatized acrobatic display. dart away.)
Keith Faherty
Keith Faherty
Oct 23, 2012      Oct 23, 2012

gloomy girl. pretty.
seated at low table
someone comments. she replies.

(look over
take a few steps forward)
"i bet i can make you smile"

(looks up.)

"i bet you a kiss on the cheek, right here, right now, i can make you smile-
here slap me-"

"what!?"

"go ahead, slap me, right here in the face- right on the cheek."

"i'm not going to slap you!"

"why not? you're just gonna kiss it and make it better anyways."
(pause. raise eyebrows. crooked smile.)


(she smiles. tries to hide it with her hands. head down. giggling.)

(kiss her on the cheek quickly and purposefully. get up swiftly in an over dramatized acrobatic display. dart away.)

of his over-dramatized
Carla Michelle

Strangers to the touch:
he was fast to dive into
the waves that were
indeed
his briny deep.
She, whom took
his complexion into
the trench that is her,
also took the senile
artistry that was he,
recklessly.
Strangers to the act:
he took the palm
of his over-dramatized
antagonist of his own
life and just
pressed it.
She  caressed the
thought of it,
yet still arose
to find her most
fragile protagonist
grazing his head
on the
adolescent but corrupt
land line that made up
as her thighs.

Strangers they must be,
though, strangers
whom have
found need in
the halves that have
halves in half.

The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
Sarina
Sarina
Jun 13, 2013      Jun 15, 2013

My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.

The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Robyn Neymour
Nov 4, 2010

Iguana of diamonds,
Sand sea and sun,
Little children in sight,
Attractions of light,
Natives of love,
Decorative cities, what night.

Island’s of the Bahamas beauty as can be,
What more fun than playing with dolphins in the sea.
Creative costumes, dancers so bright,
The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Nothing more beautiful than the island themselves,
Well except the people willing to give help.
Pineapples, peas and rice, pink sand, flamingoes, and some conch salad,
Not forgetting the “KALIK,” cause’ “IT’S A BAHAMIAN TING”.
Blue, Black and Aquamarine, was just described to you,
All in the Islands Love.
Come and enjoy the exciting experience too!
My Bahama Land!

©

© RGN - Nov./3/10

Trying something new...
lute and the rhythm of the bass guitar, Dramatized his beauty. The spectators in fear, but
Robyn Neymour
Nov 19, 2009

The acoustic guitar plays softly, in the background of a critiqued ball room as he made his entrance. The attention of the audience fell upon him; As he walked readily towards the dance floor, The melody of the flute and the rhythm of the bass guitar, Dramatized his beauty. The spectators in fear, but his passion so real, As I stared into his eyes, that made beauty felt unreal everything else that surrounded me disappeared. He focused his eyes on the dance floor they began to whisper; Who will he choose? Who has to leave now? He flashed his eyes upon the viewers that were once in shock, now in terror, but their facial expression in awe. The apothegm states that he continually seeks for the one that would heal his disease but bound to the power of the earth’s forces, his determined, stunning eyes will never be able to reveal, the secret one that can heal. The bass drums play wildly as he shows the crowd his fury. The once stunned viewers now begin to panic, but I draw myself closer. Before I could reach him someone else got in the way. “I would like to die” was the words I know her to repeatedly say. He gently pushed himself away in anger. He looked around the ball room, and observed the reaction of the audience to his response. They’re now in astonishment. He then stopped and his focal point was clear. The piano and the cello played softly to become one with his voice. He said to me “let us dance.” I’m frightened, the majority of the onlookers left in a daze. My vision weakened before our dance began. He smiled, and as he looked upon my face all the instruments faded away. He said to me is this your last dance? Will you leave us tonight? I’m the kiss of death will you close your eyes forever or will you leave me in delight?”

© 19 November 2009 RGN
convincing you dramatized
Terry Collett
Terry Collett
Jun 18, 2012

After history
something to do
with the Munich Putsch

in 1923
and going out
on to the school

playing field
Rolland said
That hot lips chick

is waving to you
from the outer fence
and so off you went

leaving Rolland
to go kick ball
with others on the field

and as you strolled
towards Christina
she came towards you

leaving her giggling friends
behind and met you
half way on the field

and said
I dreamed of you last night
her voice floated

around you
for a moment or two
and you saw across

her shoulder
Rolland head the ball
towards the goal

between two jumpers left
on the ground
then looked back at her

standing there
bright eyed
with her dark brown hair

and you said
Did I behave?
And she took your hand

and walked you across
the field slowly
and replied

Of course you did
Oh good
you said

wishing you could
have shared her dream
making it your own

she squeezed your hand
and said
Do you dream of me?

Yes
you said
Most nights

trying to make the lie
convincing you dramatized
a scene that never happened

and she smiled
and laughed
and you noticed

out of the corner
of your eye
Rolland kicking the ball

goal ward and waving
his hand then
having reached

the boundary of the field
at the wood’s edge
she kissed you

on the cheek and said
I’m glad you dream
of me as well

and smiled
and lay her head
upon your arm

and soon you knew
the bell would ring
for end of play  

and maybe
you thought
smelling her perfume

and shampooed hair
kissing her head
you might

dream of her
for the first time
tonight.

Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere
sparkles asparagus
Nov 30, 2010

I have switched to mechanics
The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse
The organic matter is dying just
Artificial forced relationships
With penetrative remarks

The tiny prism in the back of my mind
Where I can not stake out the feelings
It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing
Those white walls are suppose to fool you
Repudiating that they are of silence


Do not placate me young sir
I know that’s were things come to a halt
You enlist them into your nihilistic theories
They can not see cyclical processes
The influxes of hysteria
that inevitably ward out the insurgency

No you claim them among the broken
Make them scared of large boxes with no windows
But does it even matter
The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow


The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me
Can she not see the rampant fires?
The cages that are cracking
As the mice turn on each other

Or is it calculated
Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere
You remind me of my mother
and the United States government

The will call my a conspirator
But ill know you never landed on the moon
And even if you did
You didn’t caress its very surface  

You didn’t risk your life
to just inhale the fumes of a memorial
It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you
No matter how much you sing about it

And what for me?
I could fix you in one splash of a recall  
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack
And the turnstiles
can’t see color anymore

I am growing blinder everyday
But I can never find my oracle under all this rubbish  
He has possessed me that
Flying gingerbread monkey

Before this I liked solidarity
Juggling my own fortunes
My own soggy breath fill up the window signs  

Now I am a menacing
Ravished house beast
Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts
This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for

But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant
Populously used factoids over martinis
God know me and the monkey are socially retarded

As this thing of forsaken design
has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception
We must talk about the alcohol.
Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle
no worries it will have friends

Should I be concerned about my physical stability?
Not really I rather like bisecting my liver
and pouring to the brim
No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed
Why else would AA be so giggly?

I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain
I won’t give up the dream
and succumb to a lobotomy
Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur

This is worse then the torah
A bigger degradation then the bible
If only I had cried for the proletariat
Then I would be famous

But even though the trances are fun
And the posterior eradicating
OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You!

And I do mourn in some postulated manner
for the orphans
But they would have made it out of their capsules
if you just gave them time

dramatized shows flickering in my room in the midd
Samantha R Milich
Samantha R Milich
May 24, 2013

I’m so tired but mostly from you
I am tired of other things too
By other things, too
You are not the only thing on my mind
but you take up most of the vacancy
and everything else is pushed to the sides and pressing against my ears
christ I can hardly hear

I am so sore but I keep walking like my shoes aren’t too tight
like my dress looks fine
like it’s not riding up the back of my butt and exposing my ass for all the city to see
this is not happening instead I am busy slideshowing myself
the first time we met then the second time we met
then I am fast forwarding to when we first had sex and how I was so loud
your grandma hated me after that

I am so busy but the papers keep stacking
and I’m just some filthy college slut who can hardly handle her final critiques
all I want to do is call you and hope you’ll eagerly pick up
or even want to pick up
or even pick up
but instead all that is between us is a missed call that I can’t take back
and a bunch of papers that I have to examine with amazing skill
I know I don’t have

I should get my priorities straight, the bathub is grimy
my nails are bloody
my grandmother is sick
I am not a kid anymore and you are not my boyfriend
and what we had was really quite terrible and how
dare I sentimentalize a kiss on the cheek or a squeezing of hips to mean
that you promise to love me eternally how dare I act as though I am fourteen
with braces of steel and a heart made of mush and a brain filled with lies from
dramatized shows flickering in my room in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and my periods heavy and my arms are too fat along with my thighs and I’m thinking of true love and when I’ll get that

It’s quite hard to concentrate
the cement has cracks
my forehead is sweaty and my face is red
it is hot outside and wish you were here to lick the sweat off my chest and boldly say
“does that feel good baby”  but you’d say it in such a boyish way but I would still get turned on but I hate you now because I am too busy for you to be all over my mind when I have other things to do it’s all your fault if I fail out of college it’s all your fault if I don’t get the masters program I wanted and it’s all your fault I can’t concentrate at all
the sky is gray and work is shitty and the missed call is still pending and blinking and buzzing on your phone
I’m sure you notice it and I’m sure you’re home and free and able to see that
calling me back would make me happy
I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called god!
you haven’t been in my bedroom in over a month
and I haven’t cried either
and I haven’t gossiped about you to any of my friends
the paint is wet on the canvas
and my jaw is clenched
and I am thinking of you and that is all

 
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