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Under the sapphire sky
That's dusted with clusters of stars
I lay down on the grass
I started to count it one by one
I started to draw imaginary lines
Like constellations, they draw
Your full name right
Sometimes, it's nice to imagine the stars watching us, and thinking "what happened to these two?".
Kam Jul 2018
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
—V.H.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
I left my heart in Manchester Royal
I left my mind in a puddle of mud
I left my bag in a Harvester
in Trentham, Staffs
what a daft thing to do be do be doo
like Shaggy without ****** Doo
a starter of Frank Sinatra
with strangers in the night
weary and teary salty water
from my ol' blue eyes filled with remorse
coded and loaded with regret
and yet to let to kindred souls
without holes or fanciful goals

Chuck Berry's ding a ling
to a dwindling singing career
is a fear to steer clear of as
my stuttery staccato delivery to an audience of one man in the mirror
throws stones back through
the windows of his soul
Introspection
Big Virge Nov 29
Like Most People I Like … " APPLAUSE "  
But NOT From Those Whose Conscience Gnaws ...      
Away At … " Them " … !!!!! …        
        
Who Do It …  
Just To Fit and Blend ...      
With Those Who LIKE …        
The Words I Write … !!!!        
        
So Listen Up …        
If You Don't Like My Spoken Words …      
Or Those I Write …        
        
Do What's Right DON'T Applaud … !!!        
        
TRUST ME That's FINE … !!!!!      
        
Don't Give FALSE Cheers …        
Let's Get THIS CLEAR … !!!      
        
I DON'T Believe In False Veneers …        
Cos' Those With Them Are Quick To … " SNEER " … !!!!!      
        
I've Seen It Done A Thousand Times … !!!!!      
This Seems To Be A … " Part of Life " …  ?      
        
Don't Applaud Just To Be Nice … ?!?      
Or Even WORSE To Be ...  " Polite " ... !!!!!      
        
Polite Can Mean A Number of Things …        
Like … TACTFUL Yes … !!!      
Which May Mean That ...  
They're NOT Impressed ...      
And Say … " NICE Things " …      
That ... WON'T Upset … !!!        
        
"Oh dear, that sounds like most poets !      
Those who are, yes, self-obsessed !"      
        
Many of Them When They Applaud …      
Are Simply This … Applauding FRAUDS … !!!!!!      
        
Who … HATE To See Good Poetry ...        
Cos' This Could Mean ...      
The END of Their DELUDED Dreams … !!!!!      
        
This … Of Course …        
Could Include … ME … ?!?      
        
I'm Afraid NOT ………. !!!!!!      
        
If Your Words Do NOT Impress …        
I'll Tell You STRAIGHT … !!!!!      
        
"You need to change professions mate !!!"      
        
But If I Like The Things You Write ... ?      
I'll Try To Quote Some of Your Lines …        
        
But If I Can't Don't Be Surprised … !!!      
It's Hard Enough Remembering MINE … !!!!!!!!!      
The Key Thing Is I Think You'll Find …        
        
I'll Give Applause …        
But NOT Like Those Mentioned Before …. !!!      
Whose FAKE Applause ... Should Be Ignored …        
        
Their Actions YES I Do ABHOR ... !!!      
Cos' ALL They Do Is Keep ... DUD Scores … !!!        
        
And Call For Those Whose Form of Prose …        
Will Stunt The Growth of Shows They Host.      
        
Lyrical Woes ...  
You Know They Go …      
So … TERRIBLY Low … !!!!!      
        
Like Those Who Clap Within A ... " Claque " ... !!!!!      
        
"A hired body of applauders, in a theatre"      
        
Like Those Who Go To … " Farrago Slams " …      
Or Probably Those That Go To … " The Cellar " …      
        
**** .....
Applauding FRAUDS Are EVERYWHERE Man … !!!!!      
        
Even …. " Unplugged " …..      
Becomes A SHAM …        
When False Applause …        
Is What's Asked For … ?!?      
        
Words Like Those ...  
Will ROCK Some Jaws … !!!      
        
And Won't Get Me …      
Inside ... " Their Clique " …        
        
Or Their Shows … !!!      
        
" Oh, What a BLOW !!!!! "  
        
I Guess My Prose Just Does Not Get Enough APPLAUSE …        
For Them To Give My Words … " The Call " … !!!      
        
EXCUSES Yes ...  
I've Heard Them ALL … !!!!!      
        
" Too Black !!! "      
" Too Tall !!! "      
        
" I'm waiting for Virgil to call at my event,  
and watch the people, I present !"  
        
And THIS Of Course …        
        
"Virge doesn't make people applaud !"    
        
That's NOT What Poets Are Here For … !?!      
        
Spoken Words Or … Other Sorts …        
Those Like Me Provoke DEEP THOUGHT …        
And DO NOT WANT CONTRIVED Applause … !!!!!      
        
There's Still A Few Who Share My View …        
And CLEARLY Do Have STRONG BELIEFS … !!!!      
About How Poetry SHOULD BE ….. !!!!!!!!      
        
Sometimes It NEEDS TO BE ANGRY ...        
And Should Reflect ... " REALITY " … !!!!!        
        
It Should Be Sweet And Flow With Beats ...        
        
That's HIP HOP ... !!!!!      
And NOW WE KNOW The Youth RESPECT …      
  
Poets Who ROCK … !!!      
Promoters Should WATCH …      
They Might Be SHOCKED … !!!      
  
Poetry NEEDS Controversy … !!!      
And This Will Bring BIG CASH Money … !!!!!      
From Simple Use of Fluent Speech … !!!      
        
But Let Me Guess … !?!      
They've Got The BEST … !!!      
Within The UK's Poetry Scene ….. !!!!!!      
        
How Can This Be … !?!      
What NO … " Big V " … !!!      
        
Sorry … " BIG VIRGE " ...      
A Man With TRULY Conscious Words … !!!!      
        
They Know It's True … !!!!      
And Yet They Choose ….      
To …................................................. Ignore Me ……      
        
They're Being RUDE … !!!!!      
So Words Like These Are Just To PROVE …        
        
I'm Watching YES They're Every Move … !!!!!      
        
I'm Sure They Think I'm NOT That Great … !!!      
But Listen Close They've Made Mistakes … !!!!!      
        
My Hearing's FINE … !!!!!      
        
There Have Been Times I've Heard Them Try …        
To Act As Though They Like The Way My Wordplay's Styled ...      
But Still Won't Have My Name … " Headlined " …        
        
If That's The Way They Are Inclined …        
        
It's NOT A Stress … !!!      
They Can Bring Their BEST …      
And I'll ... Take The TEST … !!!!        
        
Let's ...  
START The WAR … !!!      
Cos' Now I'm SORE … !!!      
        
And Think It's Time To … HOT UP Floors …        
And See Which Names Bring In The Hoards … !!!        
        
That's The Way To YES … Keep Score … !!!!!      
And STOP This Phoney …. FAKE …  
  
........... " Applause " ….........
Written back when I used to perform at poetry events in London, with all the Bourgeoise, Clique-Filled breeds of London's Poetry Society Fraternities. its all good though now folks, i'm not so sore anymore … !!!
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
The evolution of art never halts
Once we began dancing around fire
Our feet couldn't stop
A place in our lives
Where our subpar seeds
Could be seen as glowing trees
That's the way I feel about my poetry
It reminds me a lot of me
I reread it and rewrite it so often
By the end it seems unoriginal and plain
And all I can hope
Is the themes and ideas that were the inspirational genesis
Remain intact

Art walks a tightrope over the most unpredictable factor
The audience
They are the other half of art
Their power cannot be overstated
And as time progresses
Their power grows
And the importance of art always extends an equal distance
But the stronger art becomes
The more it asks of it's audience
In many cases
The audience is not ready to take the call
This is one of those times
Here at the current pinnacle of art
Surfing the web
A wonderful chance as
Art is a reflection of people and society
The Internet is people and society
But just as we listen to songs
To decide what concert to go to
Or watch trailers
To decide what movie to see
We like what we like
And put blinders on to find it
Like moths to fire

We could do amazing things
If we could harness the potential
Of our collective conscious
But the threat of losing our individuality
Is too great for us
Unable to accept
Our individuality is always in the context of our cosmic existence
We are part of something greater
And we can't escape that
Even in death
We feed what lies beneath
The memory of our lives
Shrinks to obscurity
The maggots that cover our corpses
Flourish to maturity
Everything this world creates is art
And we are it's most complex creation
Not necessarily the best
We just have the most parts
And the maggots that use our dead bodies for sustenance
Were once the monsters that roamed this Earth
They had no nationality
Or political affiliations
Or religion
And they're still here
Waiting to reclaim their throne
Once "smarter" species seek suicide
annh Sep 5
As his feet moved even faster, and he twirled and whirled and cantered across the stage, it was as if he existed in an indeterminate space - blinded by the footlights, deafened by the orchestra, absorbed in his own rumbustious choreography. Beyond the pit, in the anonymous darkness, the audience rippled and flared appreciatively in response. So he danced on until, with a final rapturous gesture of his outstretched arms, he plunged to earth as dizzy as a snowflake. And waited.

The silence shifted. The soft rumble of engine noise played softly in the background, while the chain-link fence rattled in the squall which blew fresh off the harbour. He opened his eyes and watched the cars crawling across the overbridge above him; the empty basketball court, littered with yesterday’s snack papers, lay in shadow. In the middle distance, a familiar figure walked briskly towards him.

‘Matthew! Matthew! You come here this secon’ or I’ll whip your **** right off, already.’
‘Yes, Auntie.’
‘What you doin’ tryna waste good time?’
‘Nothin’, Auntie.’
‘Ain’t that the truth, boy.’

As he stooped to gather up his satchel, Matthew saw out of the corner of his eye the concertmaster lower his instrument, incline his head, and begin to tap his music stand with his bow. From the balconies the first of a thousand rose petals began to fall with the evening rain, the applause thundered while the lightning clapped, and there in the gods stood his mother waving and blowing kisses at him, as he followed his aunt down East Street towards home.

‘And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.’
- Friedrich Nietzsche
kevin hamilton Dec 2017
captive audience listening
to the hornets pouring out of me
i was running fingers
listlessly down your face
and dreaming of acid rain
—a picture in my head
that refused to die

ever mindful
of the bedroom door
hinging on your aches
and unborn eyes
the reanimated heart
chimed
and i saw distorted visions
of what awaits us all

a rising overture
from behind the veil
warm, wet handed
in a bath of blood
jules Jun 2018
love is when i look at her,
our eyes meeting,
tears rolling down our cheeks,
and we both connect.

love is when you're held,
and they're so proud,
with pain in her heart,
but she tells her story.

love is when she broke a vow,
a vow that kept her safe
from feeling sadness, dread
and trusted you with it.

love is when your heart leaps and the audience stands,
roaring, singing
screaming and thrashing
we made our mark.

and we cry and sob
and we begin hugging and wishing this moment could stay..
for we told a story,
a real story,
about how love is powerful
and could withstand
the spiraling earth
and the thunderous rain
and survive,
even in the face of death.

i love you,
and this is why we tell our story.
this is not romantic love.
this is love i feel for everyone.
i love you all so much, you helped me tell my story. you helped me feel raw.
and for that, i really do love you. and to my director,
thank you!
thank you for telling me your story,
thank you for trusting us and pushing through the pain,
i know she's watching us from above, you know it too.
i love you all!!
i'll always be here
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