Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
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
Andrew May 11
In all mediums of art
There is a give and take
Between the artist and their audience
Both sides must give everything and take everything
They’re two halves of a whole
In a reciprocal relationship
Where they must give 100%
To meet each other 50/50

The artist must pour their heart and soul into their work
And the audience must reward the artist by doing the same
Consuming art with an enthusiastic, optimistic open mind
Yet many people don’t consume art this way
They enjoy the weight of their own opinions too much
So to try to give their opinions credibility
They become overly critical and jaded

The audience starts to adopt a “this better impress me” attitude
But their criteria is always different
I met an example in a film discussion with a cynic
Who only complained about the plot or CGI
Because they didn’t know what else to look for
And ended up hating plenty of movies
They didn’t know how to watch in the first place

Yet on the other side of that coin
These people convince themselves they like total **** to seem smart
I can never predict what shotgun blast on canvas they’ll call brilliant
But it usually relies on the power of suggestion
A famous person made it or other people like it
Usually explained as “raw emotion” or something along those lines
While thoughtful and interesting work is shot down

This mentality turns artists away
While attracting frauds
Who develop a pretense to impress those idiots
By acting like an artiste
They contribute to a culture devoid of depth
Where critical thinking is used to find ways of being different
As asserting individuality trumps emotional connection
For consumers trying to avoid appearing superficial
Yet they just end up unique and shallow
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?".
Paylei Rose Mar 22
The audience goes silent
As the curtain starts to open
There on the stage is a whole other world
Maybe one from this galaxy
Sometimes from the next
But nevertheless the actors preform
The characters evolve as the show goes on
Then comes the ******, you thought we were done
So many twists and turns until a conclusion
Oh, the scene is now over
The curtains have shut
The drama is done
These actors take off their makeup
But still inside them lives
The character they played, the character they once lived.
Arisa Mar 3
I ****** the stage with silence so the audience anticipates the articulation of words that soon spill out of my mouth.

The show lights blind my eyes so all I can see are headless ghosts sitting in rows, neatly compact in a spiritual communion.

My mind stutters, body shudders, yet the line is plain to see as it was painted on my lips - ready to perform, ready to be spoken.

Narration courses through my lungs to produce cornered speech, creating an introductory-zone for the others to encroach behind me

And there we were, separated into our own character beams while I stood with shallow confidence at the forefront.

Though I'm not a main lead,
or a side character,
or a set piece,
I am the narrator.
I carry the weight of the story,
And I carry the ears of those who listen.
I was never an expressive actor, but the small roles I was given at school plays  and home-brewed sketches I was grateful for.
I was tired
of talking to myself
so I decided to write
now I talk to myself
amongst an audience
Aa Harvey Dec 2018
Bis
Bis


I was trying to build a future using the chaos theory,
But now is the time to compartmentalize.
I visualize a future happiness one day near me;
In love maybe with me, or because of me, despite.


If she is happy, then I will be happy.
I seek the extraordinary truth in you.
Do you fit the shoe of destiny?
Or is hot farfetched from obscurity?
Placed before me waving endlessly,
Look at me!  I am a mirage of what could be.


Things take time, the bigger the better.
Never say never or nothing lasts forever.
It is never too late to make a change,
Or learn from your mistakes, again.


Drag ink across the page with love, not rage.
Just say what needs to be said and keep the rest caged.
Be a poet of great understanding.
Truly amaze them and leave when they start clapping,
Shouting “Bis!” and “Encore!”
“We want more and more and more!”


That is the time to open your minds door
And then you step on through…
I wish you all the luck in the world.
Fly out into the blue.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Nyx Dec 2018
Pull on those strings that unviel our past
Taking small little peeps
wishing it would last
Sceaming and crying
Longing for her embrace
As we look on from afar
Our hearts begin to race
The play must go on no matter the pain
As we run though each scene
the show has brought you fame
Though the attention you do not want
And the glory all for naught
When she can't even look your way
Or spare you a single thought
I stare from within the crowd
As they walking out one by one
Till only you and I are left behind
When the final scene has been done
Then you too bow and leave the stage
And alone I sit remenising again
Alone in the audience
Where a crowd once screamed your name
Though never again shall I hear those cheers
Of those voices reduced to mere whispers over the years
Gordon Chai Oct 2018
0 followers
0 views
0 likes
0 comments

how many do i need
to feel like something?
EP Robles Sep 2018
THAT in my fever while sanity has escaped by baluster
i continue to gaze in daze across the sea of white-
capped madness

Each o-shaped mouth
Each Black-bead eye
and all the ears
     all the chins
             teeth

  speak an infinite story of nothing but sadness.
And within the orchestral pit finely dressed musicians
they shed b-flat note tears; their mannequin powder-white
skin a color of pink's sunsetting murmur.

Simply, the true story is off stage toward this
improbable army audience; the finely carved polychrome
citizens start to move;  half-bodied and more alive
than the flesh-kingdom.

   Last night.  Last night i felt.  
That one's life can be as real as one's imagination
   if you sinerely wish it.

:: 08-23-2018 ::
wishing the reader to decide what it means for them
Next page