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sushii 5d
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.
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.
Yan F Feb 28
wrap your warm
           benevolent
    loving
           and caring arms
  all around me
                and whisper to my ears
                that you've always heard
                all my prayers and pleas
                     renew your covenant
          right now
     that you'll forever
                                 be with me
for i've forever been faithful to you
        then help me
               tell the whole world
            that you've
      since been the one
              i have
                 always
                     believed
                         you are.
                   let me show them
           that you are not
                                       the mess
                              of ***
                                   christened
                                                     in *****
                                                and pina colada
                                  that they now
                          think you are
                               let me make them see
          that you are not
          just a sad sack
          of fairy tales
          white washed
          painted pretty
          to hide your scars.
                  let me
                             let them
                                           understand
                             that under the husk
                             of that hopeless mirth
                             of the man they see
                             when they see you today
        lies the man
                                          that i see
                whenever
i close my eyes.
use me to open their's
use me to have them know
that you exist.
please.
                         i know you are
            out there
                        somewhere.
the man that i
              used to know.
                          i believe
                      you haven't forgotten...
                          i believe
           you haven't changed.
                                  my heart burns
                 to be the sacrifice
                                         that invites forth
                                                       your presence.
                                i long for you
                                            to make known
                           your being
                           once again.
           fashion your altar
                     from the tongue in my mouth
      i shall never cease
                              to sing of memoirs
                   for you.
                              use my bones
                make them the foundation
                                       upon which
                           you grace with your miracles
                                  and with all
                     the living skin
                               of my flesh
                            carve your memory
                                        of which no one
                                        will ever forget.
just a little thing. so have you ever had this one "friend" who always gets misunderstood by everyone else and starts losing themselves because of it? yah i guess you guys kinda get my point.

read this however way you like it but trust me i reallt don't have such creepy thoughts in my head lol (i think) please tell me in the comments what you thought i actually mean by this before you read the notes tho :3 just to enjoy how creative you guys can get with this hehe

THANKS FOR READING <3 still not sponsored but like still plugging Lang Leav "Love Looks Pretty on You" :)
Chantell Wild Feb 10
rain kissed wing tips dip and dive
claws curled up on the wires
that bind us
ill conceived desires reign a planet
with the tears of another child born
in a cage bound for the stage
Freedom lies in the wings
in that song that the rainbird sings
Violet Feb 1
I've seen this show a million times
Over these long years,
And it hasn't changed a lot,
Maybe added a few tears.

It's an improvised piece,
And it's quite the gem
To see one person put on so many masks
And hold all of them.

This one-man show runs quite a lot,
And the performance is quite long,
So over time the scenes get rushed,
Like a rap out of a song.

It's her little show in her little set,
For all the world's a stage,
But her show has never new elements;
You've seen it all by this age.

Her words don't reach me anymore,
But their meaning is engraved
Into the hard drive of my brain,
So I just stare on, dazed.

I don't interrupt, for that's inappropriate,
So now there's a silent gap.
She bows gracefully, then leaves the stage,
Knowing nobody will clap.
"We need to talk," she said, but it was quite a one-sided conversation.
Vy S Jan 30
God, this hurts.
It's terrible and heart-wrenching.
To believe the moments we had weren't worth anything.
Or were they?
I have trouble discerning.
I wanted love that didn't make me feel patronized, used, discarded, and broken.
Would it make me happy?
Would it make me feel more alive to be away from you?
Would I find someone that deserves me?
How can I say this respectfully?
Without putting down our moments together?
I hate you.
I hate you so much to the point that I want you out of my life.
To the point I can say "You can die!" ad I wouldn't care.
You made me bare,
all my emotions and time,
while you sat in silence.
This is when I CAN'T remember.
These were the moments I CAN'T surrender.
Therefore, I smile when I look at you but feel like throwing up in a corner.
Matt Sol Jan 29
Of splintered miles    
and distant plumes      
of prayers left idle        
down mossy smith      
To look back on the
lies of my kin...

A defiled fender
and dissonance
a street light flickers
down mossy smith

The masquerade
Mossy smith is a road I used to live off of and its a rite of passage I never took when running away from home
Matt Sol Jan 26
Of splintered miles
and distant plumes
of prayers left idle
down mossy smith
To look back on the
lies of my kin...

A defiled fender
and dissonance
a street light flickers
down mossy smith
Sally A Bayan Jan 25
. . . /\ . . .
_______


Every ticking of the clock
there occurs some bad or good acts
they could be organized, or unkempt,
yet, nothing, or no one could pre-empt
our thoughts.....there's not a hint of rage
just questions on being there on a big stage,
called life, like a puppet...or pulling your own
strings...fighting abuse when that moment is born,
the fear to err...in making a vital decision
to reel, when marked as  a failed person,

who wants to be censured......or judged,
be disheartened by an **** smudge?

it's almost unwelcome, to hear scrutiny
wary of doors shutting on you, with finality

it's hard not to hear people's words
when they hit the ears
and the chest.............like swords,
a hostile wind.....a strange silence...are felt,
loud in their echoes,
........no human heart is ever made of pelt.

faith and hope
........embolden the spirit to persist,
to rise from all storms in life
...............to still exist...

when the winds blow nonstop,
............................is, i believe,
God's way of fanning the fires,
........................of our will, to live,
we  go on breathing
...................we survive......

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 26, 2019
Brynn S Jan 21
We laid there
Untop of pitch
Wading in water’s sound
The spot surrounded by an absent crowd
They awaited our voices
We sang, we kissed
Never did the sun shadow us
Not for a second did we want to move
In the heart of the process
In the absence of home
We found something else
This is in inspiration from a moment from the past where I and another found a stage that, in prior, had a concert and had not been torn down yet. So we just climbed onto it and laid there listening to blowing breeze, Elvis, and the water.
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