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Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to *HIM
--so *clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.

Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.

HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.

Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.

Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.

Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.

I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Just a lovely little piece using filmmaking jargen as a metaphor of putting the hurt on somebody (prior to becoming an author I was studying to be a scriptwriter & director ~ though recent events are steering me back into scriptwriting once again).

Content and details are purely fictional.
People keep asking me

"Why do you love him?"
"What so great about him?"

And
They always give harsh criticisms

  "He's too old."                                                                                          
  "He's too young."                                                  
      ­                                        "He's too short."                                                   
                                     "He's too tall.".    
                                                                ­                       "He's too fat."                      
                                                                ­                                    "He's too thin."

And
I keep saying

"Do you need a reason to love someone?"

'Cause
To me
When it comes to love
The age, the height, the weight
Is just a number
:)))
 May 2014 Christie Clarke
Jack
~

Unlike you

Hovering like a gnat that finds a face irresistible
Swatting frantically does no good as
insects will be insects and annoying is part of their plan

As it seems each day I find a new offering unfolding its wings,
buzzing about with all of its ***** laundry,
as if poetry has become merely a tool to harass

Finding little folders to slide into…highlighting
each word of bin fodder, old but new
hoping for accolades in lemonade fashion

Funny how that works as bitter becomes the norm,
never letting go of that scent that attracts you…
whatever it is about the human aroma you find so pleasing

Perhaps it is that it will never be you…insect,
oh little gnat of warm summer zephyrs failing to flutter by
lost within the deep confines of a posies’ petals

To ruin our summer faire, our picnic in the sun
can not happen for you see we are happy
in our own skin, with its wondrous fragrance…unlike you

— The End —