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The Red Woman Apr 24
my favourite actor
nothing less than perfect
my whole world, all i saw

but then you became something else
someone else
even though you were wearing the same mask
as you did when we first met

on the outside the same
but on the inside you changed
therefore i still watch you
as you perform in the crowded hallways

how do i heal from a loss of someone who hasn't died
He changed. Everything he does is like an act. I just thought that we were special, and there was no act with me. He changed into something that I couldn't recognize, and I was pushed away. I watch the face of a boy I loved, on a person I can no longer recognize everyday. Now I am left, trying to heal from a loss of someone who technically isn't dead.
Heart settles for a second or a millisecond more.
Dew rises leaving the world in a smokey haze.
This is not a phase.
This is just me.
She prayed.
I stayed away from all of that.
When I was younger, everything was "as a matter of fact".
Everything was reading newspapers for the comic strips.
Everything was detective novels fit for my young mind.
She left it all behind, not by choice.
She was my voice.
She was my mom.
Mom..
mom..
mom.

She watched me read poetry with sweaty pits.
Fear hiding behind my eye-lids.
It helped that she was there.
It helped the fear.
Performing in front of people, something I didn't often do.
Now the smoke rises leaving only dew.
Who am I now?
What will I become?
My mom knew me but someday I'll say she only knew me when I was young.
I'm not ready for that.
I'm not sure I'll ever be.
That day will come and the dew will rise again.
The dew behind my eye-lids.
A poem about my mom. She passed away almost a year ago now and always supported my poetry. I know she would be proud of me.
Eyes cast
Beautiful mind
Your energy and mine
Hearts beating fast
Lips locking
Body on mine
Your skin devouring
Deep in your flesh
Minds exploding
Dissolving in pleasure
An instrument to play
Delicious noises
Murmuring in my ear
Words with moarning
Art performing
................. Art performing
Kira Jul 2018
She was my inspiration
The way she spoke so clearly
Her voice echoed with no hesitation
and her words were meant sincerely

I could tell she wrote with passion
Not afraid to tell her story
It was her call to action
Not about the glory

I wanted her to talk forever
and not stop at the end of the paper
We had a connection I didn't want to sever
Her thoughts I wanted to savor
I've always had a love of poetry, but it wasn't until a couple of months ago that I was really inspired to write my own. This girl read a poem to me that she wrote and it was so powerful that it gave me chills and made me want to cry and I loved that I could feel so many different emotions just by listening to her talk. I hope that someday I will write a piece that will make someone feel something so deeply that they have to sit back for a second and take a deep breath.
Cheyenne Yacono May 2017
Click clack click*
We left the comfort of the amethyst curtain
Onto the stained wooden stage
The room is wide and filled with echoes
I stare into the red seats where identical faces sit
They show no emotion and I want them to feel
Feel anger, joy, sadness, something
My instructor paces across the stage towards the microphone
Hello
Suddenly the words that were to follow turn into muffles
All I can hear is my heart beat
They sound like quarter notes
The muffles end once my instructor is back in my sight
He exhales and smiles
The burning lights make him look like a god
He raises the baton and I forget everything
1...2...3...
We play the keys robotically but we breathe humanity
The notes trace our fingers and play your heart strings
Our slurs curve your lips into a smile
We want you to feel joy
We want you to remember childhood memories
It's not just kids with instruments
There are stories being told
We put our life into the instruments
We remember being called fools
And how we were wasting our time
We tell you our stories through these notes
Hoping you will feel what we felt
But we'll never know until the final note
When the baton goes down and we bow to the crowd
It's exhilarating
Delta Swingline Mar 2017
I stand in front of thousands of people, and I don’t know them, but I do know you...

When I was ten years old I wanted to be in the Olympics, an athletes dream in front of millions of people I don’t know. But I know you.

I stood on the podium, a stage of glory and pride for my country, medal around my neck, as the national anthem plays through my ears I begin to remember that I was gonna be a soldier.

At 14 years old I told you I wanted a badge or a medal, a uniform to wear, and something to fight for. And here I am standing on this stage about to receive recognition for my job.

And 15 year old me standing on a stage in front of thousands of people, with a guitar strapped around my body. And I’m singing a song I wrote, and only you know why I wrote it. The secrets I don’t tell the public are told to the people I really do trust in this world.

And yet here I am on a stage in front of people I don’t know.

Do you remember? I told you that you didn’t need to be remembered by the whole world by putting your name on a star in the sky. The sky doesn’t need another star, but Earth has it’s own star with your name on it, and it’s you.

And you don’t need to be remembered by thousands of people to be happy, you just needed me to remember you when I stand here.

You asked me to never forget you if I ever became famous. And I’m not famous. But you should be, you’re the star remember. You believed in me, told me I was worth something, enough to be here on this stage. So why aren’t you here? You are worth remembering, so why don’t you want to be famous? Why don’t you want to be on stage? I have a constant fear of never being remembered and you don’t want to be that person. Why do you not want to be on this stage? I want you here. I need you here.

I stand on a stage in front of people. Most of them, I do not know. I don’t remember why I’m on the stage anymore… But I know that you’re proud of me for whatever reason that might be.

I remember saying some sort of speech to these people, and suddenly you’re here. I can see you in the crowd, and you’re smiling. You seem so happy to see me here, almost as if you were on the stage beside me. And I wish you were. But I know you don’t need to be remembered by these people, but I remember you.

And when my speech comes to a close I say this: “Thank you, to the star in life who never made it to the sky, I just want you to know in this moment. That we made it!
If I ever become famous, this can be proof that I predicted my own future.
Mark Donnelly Nov 2016
Spotlights on glare is hot,
People look with waiting stare,
I stumble to remember,
Their voices present inside,
As I find within what I must present,
I have practiced long and hard,
Their moment and mine entwined,
Their realty in my grasp,
My courage floods in waves,
And my voice powers,
I remind those in my midst of what I bring,
Their ears sing as do mine,
As I reminding the world of my gift.
It's hard to say what you want to say.
MJ Jul 2016
When did I become a circus lion
Performing just to receive your praise?
It is just an illusion, a practiced act,
And now the dead you think you can raise.

I've done everything you tell me to.
I've been all you tell me to be.
I've put on this show for you.
Won't you please just set me free?

The cage can't contain my hostile spirit.
This costume is harsh on my scars.
I can't spend one more day forcing joviance.
I need to be free of these bars.
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