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bri 7d
Maybe I give myself too much credit: that I am good, I am doing better, I am great at my craft, that I have something to show everyone when in reality I am just average at best. What else do I show of myself that is worth a praise more than just “you did your best”? How bare do I have to be for people to pay attention to me? Maybe I am just having a bad day that has been going on for 182 days. But at the end of it all, I am just a mere performance worth 59% rotten tomatoes, it’s more than half, but barely fresh. At least I did my best? What other ******* do I have to say to myself so I don’t end up crying with a blade in my hand? It seems that trying is just never going to get me far, and the best I can give everyone is this: the mediocre poet who dreamed too high and fell so deep she died on sea. She had wings too weak and dreams too heavy that the only place she could reach was the clouds of 9, where she could only see from a few feet afar before she landed and died. That is the only thing I can offer.
Anais Vionet Feb 15
I can be a wretched fake, in private, intimate performance.

I’m an actress capable of imitating spontaneous pleasure -
by tricks of hesitation, convulsive vocal play and postures.

A mimicry undetectable to an immediate spectator.

Aww, thank you, I’ll sigh, as if leaving a good party.

“I’ve got a lot of homework to do,” I’ll add, a minute later.

To clear the stage.
Vivian Jan 27
the curtain’s wearing down
the wood is getting squeaky
i forgot my line
“line?”
the mask is falling off
the paint is chipping
the backdrop's missing
i forgot my line
“line?”
nothing looks the same
it’s felt off for a while
make up running
crew is gone
i’m alone
one man show
“line!”
i forgot my line
full house
crowd is here
show must go on
one man show
i forgot my line
they’re watching
they’re waiting
waiting to laugh
waiting to smile
where is my smile
what was my line
one man show
all alone
show must go on
so weak
so bleak
try to speak
“line?”
eyes close
head falls
deep breath
shoulders drop
i can’t pretend today
“And scene.”
David J Dec 2023
Dramatic I strike my deep bow
Stage lights warming the back of my neck

      Another show finished
              And time for the next

I change costumes and greet the regular cast
Shaking hands and reading scripts

      Finally… my cue, I exit stage left
              Passing the curtains, Sighing in relief
Anais Vionet Sep 2022
When the sun sets, flecking clouds with diaphanous light and birds whistle daytime’s last summer psalms, we call it night.

We’re moonbathing and Sunny’s features are inlaid with glamorous silver-blue patines. We’ll reawaken soon, our time is measured in assignments, not in hours, days or even seasons.

Responsibility is a villain of our own devices. You can run from it, bolt your door against it, only to find it’s right there - in back of you - smiling like a tiger or a parent.

Unfortunately, the university isn’t a hotel. It’s more of a competition, like those survivor shows.

We’ll enjoy the moonlight, for a few, laconic moments, for it seems to possess a sweet power to cool and calm, but soon our purposes will call, irresistibly, and we’ll return to the performance.
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: laconic: brief to the point of seeming rude.
neth jones Mar 2022
The great gaudy flage is screamin' blood in the streets
                                          loose yawn of a gob on him
                                              all bombast n' swagger
he makes a barrage of nuisance
     channels through the public
         and scatters a juggler's performance spot
                  lobs away his change hat
then, roughly over the cobbles  
                                        he hoicks a resuscitation doll
         and stamps down a posing boot
                                                 on the 'defeated form'

an unprepared scoop of tourists
a pause for silence and begins a rant
a great performance
of well harassed combustion :

"i smear to god all the phalluses
      [he roars, all saliva]
i smug to god
             a full jug of uglies
tug on       [makes the hand gesture for male *******]
i **** off the forger
would slug it in the mug
                          if it ever did form a tissue oath
took a plug at some drunk straggler
called the baffled *** 'god-father'
            and spate spume on his fallen anatomy
[with one hand he indicates the mannequin at his heel]
       amen ******* !"

he bows
a long quiet
some people clap awkwardly
two police officers appear and hook him by the elbows
(it has been this show before)
Nigdaw Jan 2022
a kid
with the throaty sound
of a tuned engine underfoot
cuts through my sleep
deprived eardrums
an almost tuneful exhaust note
rasps under acceleration
rippling night air outside
God I wish I was young again
when that sound alone
under my command
made me feel alive
Two women in a timeless love
Two broken hearts coming undone
Once upon a time they were little girls
Now they're full grown
Learning a script they've always known
Rehearsing till dawn
Lines forever drawn
Two women in a timeless love
Roles recorded on their hearts
Two healing hearts performing as one
timeless love
S Apr 2021
I was there-
I emoted-
I read-
I tried-
But why-
can't anyone-
acknowledge-
the-
work-
the-
acting-
I-
have-
done-
?
I mean, I'm not desperate for attention but an acknowledgement would be nice ya know?
Kristin Dec 2020
There is nothing so trepidating
as the emptiness

The blank canvas
the ghost-white page
the empty stage

There is nothing so trepidating
as the silence

Just looking
eye to eye, heart to heart,
for connection

There is nothing so liberating
as the void

the vast white desert of the canvas
the glaring blank of a page
the unadorned blackbox theater

There is nothing so liberating
as the silence

Just the rhythm
of  beating hearts
breathing

There is
nothing

There is nothing
so trepidating

There is nothing
so liberating
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