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Simon Jul 2020
An impending rate of consequence isn’t about the value of oneself when given the very right to dispose of ALL rates about the consequence that turns into the reigning champion for consequence itself. Since that very champion for consequence is how oneself would then value that very impending rate over itself entirely. Prompting the desires (that at which are forevermore “tempted”) into deceiving itself to see ONLY desires full of the consequence which is full of impending rates that (inconclusively) “shines” every claim you truly desire. Especially if that very desire doesn’t like having an identity for claim to certify it’s right for oneself to be given value over lordship as being its champion of its very own consequence! Showboating something that increases with every impending rate that coasts along without value in an identity that’s meant to be desired upon. Whilst there’s nothing more to be said or shared when there’s NO claim in itself without oneself to actually come out and perfectly express that they are lordship of claims value without a desire firstly. Which oneself is then slowly tempted upon to not see correctly. Hence, thinking they are simply a champion of consequence that performs those very impending rates as their very performance quickens steadily.
The impending rate of consequence isn’t valued upon itself in the service for oneself to simply recognize right off the bat! Since it can ONLY do so, if a desire can ONLY identify the source for a very rich claim to forevermore offer the correct source material away from consequences lining up at an “impressionable” door full of those very impending rates!
Andrew Watson Apr 2020
pixel woman
draped in scarlet
strum for the heavens
hang my troubles
from every silver note

hypnotise,
my sins lay bare
each stroke
painted fingers
through peroxide hair

false alarms
ring rusted red
she sings my skin
pearlescent

when doubts conceal
the chosen path
her sapphire
ripples settle

melt my adolescence
I am new-born
swaddled
in bitter
sweet ballad

her song,
my future
peeled and played
by warm-chord haze
of long-gone days
a discussion of my love for watching Joni Mitchell's live performances, particularly her 1983 rendition of 'Amelia', which allowed me to come to terms with a monumental life decision.
Cardboard-Jones Dec 2019
I see myself from the outside.
They observe me as they are.
I laugh.
I smile.
I render a friendly gesture.
But they do not know.
And how could they?
We are tethered together, but not the same.
I grow tired of this place.
I grow tired of this dance.
I grow tired of this stage.
I grow tired of the applause.
I grow tired of this routine.

I await the end of my solitude.
s Dec 2019
i can’t stop thinking about this//
so i was getting ready to do
a performance today,
and i overheard a mom
doing her 6-ish year old daughters
makeup/hair
the little girl told her mom:
“mommy this hurts i dont like it”

and the frustrated mom simply said:
“beauty is pain sweetheart you might as well learn it now”

and i can’t stop thinking about how some of the things kids learn about so young, is so sad.

yeah i don’t know,

i can’t stop thinking about how//

beauty is pain
but pain isn’t beautiful.
dance fck with heads
annh Oct 2019
Hire purchase, Hewlett-Packard, hand phones and - just maybe - Harry Potter have got nothing on Hello Poetry. A house party of honey pies, head pixies, and horizontal plotters hot piping their harmonic power from Hyde Park to Hunter’s Point, the High Plains to Himachel Pradesh. Household profilers, home porters, health practitioners and - it may be said - the odd human particulate here to engage in high-priority human performance.

P.S. Heart points and historic preservation aside, what the hoi polloi is up with those hit-by-pitch holding patterns, Eliot?

On Friday afternoon I had a conversation:
‘Got much planned for the long weekend?’ asked the checkout operator clicking the tips of her dark lacquered nails together while we waited for the till supervisor.
‘Catching up on some well overdue reading...HP...y’know?’
‘Do I ever! Mind you take a squiz at the small print. Those repayment schedules can be a real killer.’
Needless to say, by Saturday evening I was snorkelling for acronyms.

‘The machinations of ambiguity are among the very roots of poetry.’
- William Empson
Mikel Jul 2019
Pour your torment on the page and let the sound leak out of you

Your music bleeds out of your veins and it’s so personal, so emotional, how could people keep from resonating with it?

So now, you get to perform the same recurring nightmare every night. Reopening the wound you couldn’t heal.
DG May 2019
I cut off my ears
at a beautiful note

And fall in love when
it's a screeching sound

I gauge my eyes out
with the violin's bow

The audience claps
so I take a bow

Lately, I have been détaché-d
Colorful melody, no strings attached

Take the strings of the violin
Tie them around my neck

I grab the neck
of the violin, choke myself
and say

Violence is yet
another instrument
I can't play.
Matt Bernstein Apr 2019
Like violent footsteps of translucent insects,
rain clouds the glass.
A dynamic curtain between
the warmth
and the wind

Window dancers,
forever shifting, obscuring, revealing.
A one man audience
to a one night only movie
playing exclusively
in the courtyard below
sushii Mar 2019
My vocal chords scream out,
But I haven’t the means.
My knees give out,
But it wasn’t on a screen.

I haven’t made the grade

Till I’m on that stage.
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