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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Performing Art
by Michael R. Burch

Who teaches the wren
in its drab existence
to explode into song?

What parodies of irony
does the jay espouse
with its sharp-edged tongue?

What instinctual memories
lend stunning brightness
to the strange dreams

of the dull gray slug
—spinning its chrysalis,
gluing rough seams—

abiding in darkness
its transformation,
till, waving damp wings,

it applauds its performance?
I am done with irony.
Life itself sings.

One suspects the typical American poetry professor and/or workshop instructor would advise birds to give up singing for mostly inaudible expressions of jaded irony. Keywords/Tags: performing, art, poetry, song, singing, music, irony, cynicism, parodies, dreams, imagination, chrysalis, butterfly, transformation, natural, performance
Lise Nastja Feb 2020
My whole life I had scoffed at boys gifting girls flowers
The expensive ones, the kind they saved up for
I thought it was incredibly immature to pay for pretty dead things
When the world is in the process of destruction
And the economy is constantly in inflation
It could’ve paid for a lot of things—
A nice meal or even AirPods

It was until I got a girl of my own
Smiling like she’s the sun
Walking around and tugging me along
I suddenly had the urge to get her a 50-dollar bouquet
Or those fancy ones in a box shipped from Dubai
Or a giant teddy bear—Yes!
A giant teddy bear to fill a corner of her room on top of her pile of trash

Suddenly she deserves pretty dead things
Hold onto them as they slowly wilt
I want her to walk around owning a piece of Earth
It could’ve been an animal or a plant
Shiny gems or a worm
But she deserves the brightest crop among the weeds
The purplest shade nature can make
The pinkest rose
The yellowest sunflower

I’m not even one to write a poem either
But somehow I now belong in the stupid group of hopeless romantics
plucking pretty things from Earth
Despite inflation and pragmatism
I guess it says a lot about us humans
Sentimental *****
chitragupta Feb 2020
Rip, rip, rip!
Red glazed paper
Cling, cling, cling!
The falling sugar
Whirr, whirr, whirr!
Grinding of the beans
Stir, stir, stir!
Till the surface gleams
Drip, drip, drip!
Dripping black ocean
Sip, sip, sip!
The bitter decoction

Ain't it sweet enough
To believe there's someone we're made for
But it's never enough sugar
in that sachet
Why does love last as long as it's paid for?
Happy Valentine's day, poets.
There is so little left,
And still much i need to question.
So untrusting of what i can see, hear or touch,
My senses fooled a thousand times and a thousand times again.

Hardened fortifications blossom,
Bringing perpetual reinforcement.
Working for at least a respite,
From coyote hordes outdoors.

Odysseus waits at the gates,
Educated eyes identify his horses,
Staring straight through the belly of the beasts,
Thwarting threats before they take to action.

King in the learned castle,
To never be fooled again.
Entrenched deep in his defences,
Securing solace through his reclusion.

it is lonely on your own

There is so little left,
This gives forth the question,
so untrusting of what i see, hear, touch but feel?
Perhaps the fraud is mine.

Cynical battlements sprout,
With spores of harsh repairs.
Crusading for disenchantment,
Cry wolf and call coyote.

Teach to never looked beyond the gates,
Focus attention in,
Cowered behind walls and towers,
Forever fearful to lower the bridges.

Lord of what little is leftover,
If any is left at all,
Prisoner to himself,
Until he allow himself to leave.
Ashlee Reyes Sep 2019
last night your kisses
made the moon brighter
we'd smoked before
but inhaling you
made me higher.

i went back to my empty apartment
dreamed of you real sweet

but i know better
than to text you
and wish you the
most decent day

i wanna believe in the concept
"ask and it is given"
but i know better
than to expect you to stay
Ahh ****, no matter how I twist and turn things it always seems like I miss
It seems
to just be this ******* mess
I want to write exuberant
want to be happy, a big ******* party
But, my cynicism
my slowly increasing bitterness
makes me to the person I hate
So, guess that’s fun
AvengingPoet Jul 2019
The hounds of space
Controlling and dictating
Your every thought and feeling
No thoughts for yourself

Out of breath
From the overwhelming data
God I just wanna run from it all
A needle in my ******* arm

I’m just a lurker
Watching the 1’s and 0’s
Explode in a negative fireworks display
Another day, another day...

The hounds of the digital space
Biting and gnawing at you
Drowning in blood
Seeking more and more everyday...
Amanda Kay Burke May 2019
I am afraid to go all in
Although I love you so much
Proud I have resisted succumbing
Hide my heart away from your touch

Locked inside a dark cool place
I will be kind but cautious too
Special for a little bit but not for long
Warm and soft glow soon will fall through

You make a perfect Prince Charming
Afraid it's all a game
A chance is the gift I'm giving you
Waiting for proof you're no longer the same

Sincerely I pledge my love to you
We are fated to break somewhere
Wanting to show you the depth of these feelings
With more than words sculpted from air

Fear forms a fence between us
Distance a familiar friend
Passion puts me in a prison cell
Losing power to pain and the impending end

Let me walk apart from love
Fantasies weaken away by the hour
Lets part ways while our love is still sweet
Rather than watch it slowly sour

Bitter tasting cynicism lingers from the past
Allow me to surrender to fear
Escape the possibility of getting bit or burned
Before goodbye has a chance to get near
We are afraid to care too much in fear that the other person does not care at all
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