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Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Don’t bring me those bouquets
Don’t clap me off the stage
Because my tour is not yet done
Some parts are just begun.
That would just be so wrong.
I haven’t sung my last song.
You must never forget,
I’m not quite done yet.

I need no one to carry me
It’s not time to bury me
In celebratory flowers
I’ve still got a few hours
Left for me in the spotlight
Tonight is not my last night.
Thought I’ve had my regrets
I’m not really done yet.

There are so many songs inside me
And melodies that will guide me
They want to come out whole
From deep inside my soul
But one thing I am certain
Don’t bring down that final curtain.
I’ve got more numbers to do
And I worked them up just for you.

As long as the crowd is willing
As long as I’m still killing
As you can still hear the applause
There is plenty of righteous cause
To keep the orchestra playing.
That’s all that I am saying.
I promise you won’t regret
That I am not quite done yet.
I’m not quite done yet.
Cody Haag Oct 2015
Why girl must you stare back at me, with such sad, sad eyes?
You're a mirror of the pain I've been going through, an image of my pain in disguise.
As the lyrics flow off of the page, and the melodies fade softly away from your lips,
I know that you are like me, given nothing but worthless chips.
Chips to cast and play, in the game called life,
While others play the game, with cards to avoid tremendous pain and strife.

Why do you sing this soul-tearing song with me?
Each lyric is a ballad to the pain I've come to need.
We're all alone right now, in the emptiness of our despair,
Perhaps this pain we're singing about was always meant for us to bear.

Out of any song that is beautiful, heartfelt, and melodic,
We chose the song that we can sing, sounding somewhat neurotic.
Perhaps this pain is a twisting trail, like the notes on our page,
or the words, leaving our lips as we stand together on stage.

When our song is over, maybe the pain will subside,
fading away into the lyrics, we can try to lock away and hide.
Our past is tortured and haunted by the remnants of what could have been,
But that's all been put away now, leaving us closer than ever, true friends.
I'll never do you wrong; I swear it on the notes that leave my lips, the tugs I feel pulling on my heart.
You've hurt me and I've hurt you; that was our tormented start.

Maybe we don't have to hide in these lyrics anymore, maybe we can hide in each other, opening up another door.

A door for happiness; a door for new found pain.
We'll never heal these wounds that have damaged us, leaving us broken and stained.
The best we can do is cover up the pain,
Masking it with something, that hurts somewhat the same.
I hope you like it. :)
crystallaiz Oct 2015
D-8
you dance like
you're going to
destroy the stage

it's your show
the fireworks are going
up up up up up up

but you extend a hand
and you say
*let's dance
Opera
Rockstar
Let's Dance
Choki Wa
Twins (Knock Out)
Steele Sep 2015
Worn converses scuff the floor.
     The crowd sings, and they roar
     his name. Things aren't the same
     like anonymous Mondays before.

He pulls out his strings. Silence.
Steel vibrates and sings; Violence
erupts and again he hears his name.
It isn't the same... but he finds it
strangely fitting; On this stage
he's the benefactor and the tyrant.
He's the laughter, killing quiet.
It's not your average Monday
but no surprise, he finds he likes it.
Evangeline Rose Sep 2015
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.
The world is watching, waiting, judging;
What is life, but this big masquerade?

An elaborate disguise, a well-crafted charade --
My ears have grown weary of all the criticising
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.

Concealed behind this paper mask, I am on parade.
All that pretense, the deception unending.
What is life but this big masquerade?

No choice in how I am being portrayed
Tears on paper cuts -- but I keep smiling    
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.

All those things I am trying to evade.
Deception's price. Who am I fooling?
What is life but this big masquerade?

How does one face life’s endless tirade?
I can feel my walls crumbling.
Puppets on a string, foolishly played.
What is life but this big masquerade?
Facades are found in our everyday lives. No one knows who lies beneath one’s mask. Our life is a performance on a stage (the world). We put on a ‘mask’ and conceal our true selves. I was inspired by a quote by Lord Bryon: “And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.” I thought about how sometimes we put up a front in a bid to blend in. We may not be expressing what we actually think.

I mostly followed the a villanelle format , but I tweaked the 2nd last line such that I used a new line instead on A1 to show that the writer’s thoughts are shifting, and that the subject is unable to keep up her facade any longer. I wanted to imply that the writer felt as though life was controlling her instead of her actions determining her future.

I also made use of eye-rhyming with the word façade. I wanted to show that things may not be what they actually are in the sense that the mask that people wear will conceal their true selves and in another way, facade looks as though it rhymes but it does not.
Melissa Sep 2015
People  in painted faces

        living in quiet repression

        sharing a silent depression

unspeakable

        Insufferable.

Chained to their false personas by fear

        playing pretend, always losing the game

Reality intervenes

And just as soon it slips away

    effervescence

        a dark fantasy  in with all the

        characters are frauds.

The world is a stage

        the audience knows all the secrets

        the actors think they hide so well
Cheyenne Aug 2015
Directors and playwrights:
Puppet-masters pulling strings.
With an ending clearly written
A divergence is unseen.
Lines rehearsed,
Movements blocked,
Costumes sewn,
A table of props.
Each piece dependent on the other,
With trust that each will stick
To the parts neatly rehearsed,
To the lines within the script.
And it is wondrous entertainment
For an evening in the dark,
Where the set is just a fiction,
Each player, just a part.
But I'm not here for your enjoyment.
I'm not here to play along.
With the conflicts you've determined;
With your solutions to these wrongs.
I know my lines, I read them.
I know my steps, I've walked them.
But these lines, you wrote them.
And these steps, you blocked them.
How can I accomplish
Something different, something new
When I am following in footsteps
Conjured up by you?
It'll leave my company scrambling
To get us back on course--
But I have no desire
In the destination forced.
And if the set begins to crumble--
And the illusion is dispelled--
And all others break from character--
And the misconceptions that they held,
Then certainly my disruptions
Would not have been in vain,
When something new arises
On the stage that still remains.
This is inspired by a philosophy my father taught me and which he learned from an old law school professor. The argument was that if you do what everyone expects you to do, then everything will turn out the way it has always turned out (the actual story is much longer and more specific, but this was the message). This coincides nicely with Shakespeare, and his assessment of the world as a stage.
I fell into a bottle
Four Presidents ago
looking for the hidden song
Just before a show

Once I thought I found it
I was in about half way
When I took the stage I found out
I was far too drunk to play

Every bottle has a song
somewhere deep inside
I haven't found one yet though
but, ****...i know I've tried

Each line upon my weary face
And scar upon my fingers
is the end result of searching for
the song that always lingers

If it isn't in one bottle
in the next it may be there
so for now, i'll just keep searching
for the song that isn't there

there's songs in other places too
too dark for me to go
some find songs inside a needle
those aren't songs I want to know

I come by my songs honestly
my scars show I've looked deep
But, when I'm almost there and see it
That's kinda when I fall asleep

when I'm sober, I can't find them
once I'm drinking, then I hear
The song calling from a bottle
I'm like an alcoholic seer

I know I'll find the right one
And it just may be today
I only hope I find it
Before I'm too **** drunk to play

I only hope I find it
Before I'm too **** drunk to play
SøułSurvivør Jul 2015
---

this isn't a dress rehearsal folks
I'm sure I'm not the
first one to tell you
we're on

LIVE


don't **** the messanger
I'm just doing my job
like the Blues Brothers
on a mission from God

we're on a massive stage
we all play bit roles
don't care who you are in the world
don't care what you own
don't care what you do
don't care who you know
or where you been
don't care what you think of me

WHY ARE WE HERE?
WHAT'S THE POINT?


life's hard then you die, right?
some people seem to have it easy
they have it all
but really? they put their pants on
one leg at a time like the rest of us
they have their own problems
they have fights with their wives
husbands
children
friends and relatives
they have problems on the job
setbacks
they have to see the toilet
people they love die

nobody gets out alive

so what is the POINT?

do you have a purpose?

how do you fill that HUGE ENORMOUS
MEGALYTHIC
HOLE IN YOUR CHEST?

that the winds of change blow through like a hurricane season
in NEW ORLEANS?

I'm not the first one to tell you
we're in this play, see
it's called LIFE

if we are all bit players
who is the Director?
three guesses and the
first two don't count

what would happen if all
the actors decided to do
whatever they felt like?
right. CHAOS. well.
what do you see all around you???
who's in charge of this fiasco?
guess what?

GOD STILL IS

admit it
some things that happen
defy explanation

He's up there alright
shaking his head
sometimes laughing
sometimes crying
sometimes FURIOUS!

do you think
He's HAPPY RIGHT NOW?

look around. do you think
HE WANTS ALL THIS???

so what does He WANT ANYWAY?


that's an excellent question
what do you think He wants???

LOVE

LOVE FOR EACH OTHER
LOVE FOR HIS PRESENCE
LOVE FOR HIS CREATION

LOVE FOR HIM


is that so difficult?

well. i really actually may be
the first one to tell you this
but it's not only what He wants

it's what He REQUIRES

so you don't want to do
what He requires?
guess what?

you are a bit player
you can be replaced at any time

*EXIT STAGE LEFT
I am talking to
Christian people as well
especially them
what gives you the right to
judge anyone when you go to
Church one day and act the devil
the rest of the time?

REMEMBER HOW
JESUS CHRIST FELT ABOUT

H Y P O C R I T E S ???

That's what you are
and in the end you will
go to the left
GuiseOfALoner Jul 2015
The spotlight illuminates,
A face of a daring angel.
For every word she sings,
Is the most wonderful tale of all.

Mary, why do you try so hard?
Are dreams winning you this time?
For when you don't cry,
Deepest, you're in your ocean of tears.

Mary, when will you stop?
Can't you see darling?
For when we're at the edge of your spectacle,
The judgement favors the dullest.

They see your light,
All they do is pretending.
Trying to bring you down.
In the most obvious sense.

I've seen it all Mary.
How can I mend you?
I'd wish to keep some burdens,
Just to bring out the best in you.

When tomorrow arrives,
You're gonna try again.
Will your eager heart,
Make it through this time?

I wish. I wish.
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