#audience - Hello Poetry

#audience

I'm hardly a boy, yet I'm hardly a girl Fooling around, figuring out what to do Meandering so, can't save you now! Face your problems, with the brave of a shrew. There's nothing left to look forward to You've beat the game, what more do you want to do? The curtains sway As you give a bow Shutting you out From the audience, who, Applaud as you grin While the curtains are due Leaving you on the stage that you grew on

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6d ago

May 28, 2026 at 5:05 PM UTC

I'm hardly a boy, yet I'm hardly a girl Fooling around, figuring out what to do Meandering so, can't save you now! Face your problems, with the brave of a shrew. There's nothing left to look forward to You've beat the game, what more do you want to do? The curtains sway As you give a bow Shutting you out From the audience, who, Applaud as you grin While the curtains are due Leaving you on the stage that you grew on

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And there I was. A witness to spontaneity and self-expression; to emancipation. Not mine, however. Someone else entirely, but physically close. As in the very next seat. "You are so composed," I must have said at some point. "It's all those long years standing outside in the terminator line, waiting to enter," I believe she replied. "Why do you come here then?" was my stupid question. "The autumn theatricals and the chance to start again," was her all too brief answer. Just then she stepped out of the shadows, breaking off from a wall of men, and onto the edge of the stage...her eyes beamed undiluted willpower. It is a gaze that both chills and warms, radiating and demanding trust in this singularly self-possessed presence. In the forensic lighting, she had a sticky acid smile, her ****** in candid detail, stellar in spectra. Everyone throws things at the understudy, but not this night. She danced against time with an audience of unknown monarchs; some with crowns, some with wings. She held birdsong, truth slipping through her fingers, pollinating protagonists caught in the (third) act. A night here is like wading in a pond with a jagged edge; the wind blows through and thoroughly, and still she stays calm, collective. She always seems to be waiting for something. Permanence seems out of reach; some great apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and she views the future tentatively. "You are aware that everyone is looking at you?" I can't help inquiring. “How can they not. On TV and film, there’s a bigger separation,” she says. “But when you’re breathing the same air, there’s definitely a reaction. Sometimes you feel a little bit like a ****** That’s part of the experience. The scary part is not the nudity." Then she took a beat, and we subtly entered the frame of the play; away the bird flew, and she began to talk about grief and loss, her voice clotting, and so fast had the audience been beguiled that one softly sympathetic voice rang out from the front of the orchestra, as clear as a bell as she struggled to articulate her tangle of feelings: “We understand.”

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Apr 13

Apr 13, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC

The Woman Seated Next to Me at the Opera Was Philosophical, Naked, and Holding a Hummingbird

And there I was. A witness to spontaneity and self-expression; to emancipation. Not mine, however. Someone else entirely, but physically close. As in the very next seat. "You are so composed," I must have said at some point. "It's all those long years standing outside in the terminator line, waiting to enter," I believe she replied. "Why do you come here then?" was my stupid question. "The autumn theatricals and the chance to start again," was her all too brief answer. Just then she stepped out of the shadows, breaking off from a wall of men, and onto the edge of the stage...her eyes beamed undiluted willpower. It is a gaze that both chills and warms, radiating and demanding trust in this singularly self-possessed presence. In the forensic lighting, she had a sticky acid smile, her ****** in candid detail, stellar in spectra. Everyone throws things at the understudy, but not this night. She danced against time with an audience of unknown monarchs; some with crowns, some with wings. She held birdsong, truth slipping through her fingers, pollinating protagonists caught in the (third) act. A night here is like wading in a pond with a jagged edge; the wind blows through and thoroughly, and still she stays calm, collective. She always seems to be waiting for something. Permanence seems out of reach; some great apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and she views the future tentatively. "You are aware that everyone is looking at you?" I can't help inquiring. “How can they not. On TV and film, there’s a bigger separation,” she says. “But when you’re breathing the same air, there’s definitely a reaction. Sometimes you feel a little bit like a ****** That’s part of the experience. The scary part is not the nudity." Then she took a beat, and we subtly entered the frame of the play; away the bird flew, and she began to talk about grief and loss, her voice clotting, and so fast had the audience been beguiled that one softly sympathetic voice rang out from the front of the orchestra, as clear as a bell as she struggled to articulate her tangle of feelings: “We understand.”

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the harpsichord in your throat plays out the songs in your heart. you sit in the auditorium- all ears, quiet as a mouse.

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Apr 2

Apr 2, 2026 at 10:23 AM UTC

all ears, quiet as a mouse

the harpsichord in your throat plays out the songs in your heart. you sit in the auditorium- all ears, quiet as a mouse.

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The finals have finished. We've got nothing to do. I take out my computer. I write. A friend looks at me. "Watcha doing?", he says. I just say two words: "I write" He stares at me. I see my words bouncing inside his head. "I write", "I write", "I write" He looks at my screen. He reads one sentence. He looks at me. "I'd never read that", he says I'm angry, yet I want to laugh. Would he read anything? Would he understand my writing with reading one sentence? I don't say that. I only say, almost laughing: "I don't care. I don't write for you to read. I just write" He looks at me as if I'm insane. Maybe I am. But I don't care. I write for the screen. I write for the sheet. That is my audience. They'll never criticize me for writing. For those who won't do that— and also for nobody but for the world itself— for those, I write.

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Mar 10

Mar 10, 2026 at 5:24 AM UTC

The finals have finished. We've got nothing to do. I take out my computer. I write. A friend looks at me. "Watcha doing?", he says. I just say two words: "I write" He stares at me. I see my words bouncing inside his head. "I write", "I write", "I write" He looks at my screen. He reads one sentence. He looks at me. "I'd never read that", he says I'm angry, yet I want to laugh. Would he read anything? Would he understand my writing with reading one sentence? I don't say that. I only say, almost laughing: "I don't care. I don't write for you to read. I just write" He looks at me as if I'm insane. Maybe I am. But I don't care. I write for the screen. I write for the sheet. That is my audience. They'll never criticize me for writing. For those who won't do that— and also for nobody but for the world itself— for those, I write.

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i want to play the main role in your story yet i am stuck cast as the understudy i just wish you would’ve told me instead of keeping the water muddy though i wasn’t born yesterday love’s always made me act a fool but come as it may i will get cooler with time maybe then i will be your star and score the part as the winner in your heart too busy being everyone’s peace to ever find my own hard to see the big picture when there’s another script you’re thrown owed for my dutiful role but will never be paid

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Feb 24

Feb 24, 2026 at 2:30 PM UTC

i want to play the main role in your story yet i am stuck cast as the understudy i just wish you would’ve told me instead of keeping the water muddy though i wasn’t born yesterday love’s always made me act a fool but come as it may i will get cooler with time maybe then i will be your star and score the part as the winner in your heart too busy being everyone’s peace to ever find my own hard to see the big picture when there’s another script you’re thrown owed for my dutiful role but will never be paid

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Listen. Stop not listening. I’ve been tapped. Sap bleeds. It stings where sweetness lives. Give me your ears. I’ll torch ‘em to caramel. I don’t need your lips, your yowls, your static. But taste. Just taste my syrup. Your screech gnaws at the stem of my melody. Eat the fruit. Chew the pit.

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May 5, 2025

May 5, 2025 at 9:29 PM UTC

Listen. Stop not listening. I’ve been tapped. Sap bleeds. It stings where sweetness lives. Give me your ears. I’ll torch ‘em to caramel. I don’t need your lips, your yowls, your static. But taste. Just taste my syrup. Your screech gnaws at the stem of my melody. Eat the fruit. Chew the pit.

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Infinite-minute I'm kind Win-for-the-grin and I'm fine again-and-again and I'm why-> No-sin-for-the-sin, Just.tellin.time.bro I'm not mine // I'm just ... telling time [But] No Rolex to- Destress from the grind (though) Go bow-flex to- restring the kind (grow) Chose to flex - when Beast step to my mode Lose no chest - when leg day (rep) the prime goal See it, .speak through the sign Be it, .peek through the vine so we wrestle with meaning I ain' seek to not find no- -ceiling, no scheming, cross beaming, spreading out the word Jesus I'm Grateful, see... (There's) a test in the word, a testament ta da verb faith's meaning , when its heard grace, yes to what's conferred Pearls, laced to the curve [been so perturbed but blessed is concurred yes best, is what you deserve] Eternity~ Free it, leak through the brine b-B-ee IT a pixel, but leaks through divine Su Suh- See-IT Si ves, expresa la señal * If you see, [sing the signal] Neo, Orphe, Break the window ...

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Aug 12, 2024

Aug 12, 2024 at 11:52 PM UTC

Infinite-winit32

Infinite-minute I'm kind Win-for-the-grin and I'm fine again-and-again and I'm why-> No-sin-for-the-sin, Just.tellin.time.bro I'm not mine // I'm just ... telling time [But] No Rolex to- Destress from the grind (though) Go bow-flex to- restring the kind (grow) Chose to flex - when Beast step to my mode Lose no chest - when leg day (rep) the prime goal See it, .speak through the sign Be it, .peek through the vine so we wrestle with meaning I ain' seek to not find no- -ceiling, no scheming, cross beaming, spreading out the word Jesus I'm Grateful, see... (There's) a test in the word, a testament ta da verb faith's meaning , when its heard grace, yes to what's conferred Pearls, laced to the curve [been so perturbed but blessed is concurred yes best, is what you deserve] Eternity~ Free it, leak through the brine b-B-ee IT a pixel, but leaks through divine Su Suh- See-IT Si ves, expresa la señal * If you see, [sing the signal] Neo, Orphe, Break the window ...

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the fool created his own woes sorrows laid into his red nose dirt fills his mind nothing pure and full of sin sadistic miseries fill him within the fool only knows negatives his life called for nothing but ridicule if only the fool knew that he could command an audience he rather cry in silence die and rot away to the dirt that used to fill him

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Jun 13, 2021

Jun 13, 2021 at 8:27 PM UTC

saving grace for the fool

the fool created his own woes sorrows laid into his red nose dirt fills his mind nothing pure and full of sin sadistic miseries fill him within the fool only knows negatives his life called for nothing but ridicule if only the fool knew that he could command an audience he rather cry in silence die and rot away to the dirt that used to fill him

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I've lied once I lie now I'm venomous I'll show you how Come in close Don't look away Illusions dance Creations dream Gods can't die But they can scream So many pretty things Block your way Now I've done my trick And here you'll stay.

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Nov 23, 2020

Nov 23, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC

Repetition is practiced

I've lied once I lie now I'm venomous I'll show you how Come in close Don't look away Illusions dance Creations dream Gods can't die But they can scream So many pretty things Block your way Now I've done my trick And here you'll stay.

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As the bird sings My poetry flows Every day I sing and go So While on yer busy flight Buzzin the flowers For the Queen Or yer honey delight Stop and give a listen ‘Cause like the bird It’s an audience We’re-all-a-missing ::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..;:..;;

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Nov 22, 2020

Nov 22, 2020 at 11:40 AM UTC

Bees For The Birds

As the bird sings My poetry flows Every day I sing and go So While on yer busy flight Buzzin the flowers For the Queen Or yer honey delight Stop and give a listen ‘Cause like the bird It’s an audience We’re-all-a-missing ::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..;:..;;

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car window moonlight, familiar music plays through crackling speakers, serenading us. muttered confession, I pretend I do not hear and will say I have forgotten but I might never. fearless actions, stunning your audience, I do not applaud but I crave an encore. quiet drive home on deserted roads. we panic at midnight, then laugh at dawn. --r.s.

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Nov 11, 2020

Nov 11, 2020 at 12:28 AM UTC

car window moonlight, familiar music plays through crackling speakers, serenading us. muttered confession, I pretend I do not hear and will say I have forgotten but I might never. fearless actions, stunning your audience, I do not applaud but I crave an encore. quiet drive home on deserted roads. we panic at midnight, then laugh at dawn. --r.s.

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My lifes a show Filled with sorrow and danger Its not a promising film You'll hear them say As the scenes Play across the screen I glance at the audience The theatre is empty Except for me I reach down and stuff A handful of popcorn Into my mouth Hoping that'll stop the sobs Even though Theres no one watching

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Aug 8, 2020

Aug 8, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC

My Lifes A Show

My lifes a show Filled with sorrow and danger Its not a promising film You'll hear them say As the scenes Play across the screen I glance at the audience The theatre is empty Except for me I reach down and stuff A handful of popcorn Into my mouth Hoping that'll stop the sobs Even though Theres no one watching

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#*Good or bad Speak only As much as The audience is willing to understand, take Relate Words*#

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May 26, 2020

May 26, 2020 at 12:53 PM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

#*Good or bad Speak only As much as The audience is willing to understand, take Relate Words*#

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Do I write for an audience or for myself. There is a struggle to distinguish between the voices of critics in my head and my voice of reason.

0

Mar 24, 2020

Mar 24, 2020 at 12:35 PM UTC

Do I write for an audience or for myself. There is a struggle to distinguish between the voices of critics in my head and my voice of reason.

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The times have me gobsmacked, petulant observer, no more endearing than anonymous audience. My own visions, shadows on cave walls, storytelling secret animal lanterns.

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Jan 3, 2020

Jan 3, 2020 at 6:02 PM UTC

The times have me gobsmacked, petulant observer, no more endearing than anonymous audience. My own visions, shadows on cave walls, storytelling secret animal lanterns.

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Like Most People I Like … " APPLAUSE " But NOT From Those Whose Conscience Gnaws ... Away At … " Them " … !!!!! … Who Do It … Just To Fit and Blend ... With Those Who LIKE … The Words I Write … !!!! So Listen Up … If You Don't Like My Spoken Words … Or Those I Write … Do What's Right DON'T Applaud … !!! TRUST ME That's FINE … !!!!! Don't Give FALSE Cheers … Let's Get THIS CLEAR … !!! I DON'T Believe In False Veneers … Cos' Those With Them Are Quick To … " SNEER " … !!!!! I've Seen It Done A Thousand Times … !!!!! This Seems To Be A … " Part of Life " … ? Don't Applaud Just To Be Nice … ?!? Or Even WORSE To Be ... " Polite " ... !!!!! Polite Can Mean A Number of Things … Like … TACTFUL Yes … !!! Which May Mean That ... They're NOT Impressed ... And Say … " NICE Things " … That ... WON'T Upset … !!! "Oh dear, that sounds like most poets ! Those who are, yes, self-obsessed !" Many of Them When They Applaud … Are Simply This … Applauding FRAUDS … !!!!!! Who … HATE To See Good Poetry ... Cos' This Could Mean ... The END of Their DELUDED Dreams … !!!!! This … Of Course … Could Include … ME … ?!? I'm Afraid NOT ………. !!!!!! If Your Words Do NOT Impress … I'll Tell You STRAIGHT … !!!!! "You need to change professions mate !!!" But If I Like The Things You Write ... ? I'll Try To Quote Some of Your Lines … But If I Can't Don't Be Surprised … !!! It's Hard Enough Remembering MINE … !!!!!!!!! The Key Thing Is I Think You'll Find … I'll Give Applause … But NOT Like Those Mentioned Before …. !!! Whose FAKE Applause ... Should Be Ignored … Their Actions YES I Do ABHOR ... !!! Cos' ALL They Do Is Keep ... DUD Scores … !!! And Call For Those Whose Form of Prose … Will Stunt The Growth of Shows They Host. Lyrical Woes ... You Know They Go … So … TERRIBLY Low … !!!!! Like Those Who Clap Within A ... " Claque " ... !!!!! "A hired body of applauders, in a theatre" Like Those Who Go To … " Farrago Slams " … Or Probably Those That Go To … " The Cellar " … **** ..... Applauding FRAUDS Are EVERYWHERE Man … !!!!! Even …. " Unplugged " ….. Becomes A SHAM … When False Applause … Is What's Asked For … ?!? Words Like Those ... Will ROCK Some Jaws … !!! And Won't Get Me … Inside ... " Their Clique " … Or Their Shows … !!! " Oh, What a BLOW !!!!! " I Guess My Prose Just Does Not Get Enough APPLAUSE … For Them To Give My Words … " The Call " … !!! EXCUSES Yes ... I've Heard Them ALL … !!!!! " Too Black !!! " " Too Tall !!! " " I'm waiting for Virgil to call at my event, and watch the people, I present !" And THIS Of Course … "Virge doesn't make people applaud !" That's NOT What Poets Are Here For … !?! Spoken Words Or … Other Sorts … Those Like Me Provoke DEEP THOUGHT … And DO NOT WANT CONTRIVED Applause … !!!!! There's Still A Few Who Share My View … And CLEARLY Do Have STRONG BELIEFS … !!!! About How Poetry SHOULD BE ….. !!!!!!!! Sometimes It NEEDS TO BE ANGRY ... And Should Reflect ... " REALITY " … !!!!! It Should Be Sweet And Flow With Beats ... That's HIP HOP ... !!!!! And NOW WE KNOW The Youth RESPECT … Poets Who ROCK … !!! Promoters Should WATCH … They Might Be SHOCKED … !!! Poetry NEEDS Controversy … !!! And This Will Bring BIG CASH Money … !!!!! From Simple Use of Fluent Speech … !!! But Let Me Guess … !?! They've Got The BEST … !!! Within The UK's Poetry Scene ….. !!!!!! How Can This Be … !?! What NO … " Big V " … !!! Sorry … " BIG VIRGE " ... A Man With TRULY Conscious Words … !!!! They Know It's True … !!!! And Yet They Choose …. To …................................................. Ignore Me …… They're Being RUDE … !!!!! So Words Like These Are Just To PROVE … I'm Watching YES They're Every Move … !!!!! I'm Sure They Think I'm NOT That Great … !!! But Listen Close They've Made Mistakes … !!!!! My Hearing's FINE … !!!!! There Have Been Times I've Heard Them Try … To Act As Though They Like The Way My Wordplay's Styled ... But Still Won't Have My Name … " Headlined " … If That's The Way They Are Inclined … It's NOT A Stress … !!! They Can Bring Their BEST … And I'll ... Take The TEST … !!!! Let's ... START The WAR … !!! Cos' Now I'm SORE … !!! And Think It's Time To … HOT UP Floors … And See Which Names Bring In The Hoards … !!! That's The Way To YES … Keep Score … !!!!! And STOP This Phoney …. FAKE … ........... " Applause " ….........

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Nov 28, 2019

Nov 28, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC

"Applause" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 7/12/2005

Like Most People I Like … " APPLAUSE " But NOT From Those Whose Conscience Gnaws ... Away At … " Them " … !!!!! … Who Do It … Just To Fit and Blend ... With Those Who LIKE … The Words I Write … !!!! So Listen Up … If You Don't Like My Spoken Words … Or Those I Write … Do What's Right DON'T Applaud … !!! TRUST ME That's FINE … !!!!! Don't Give FALSE Cheers … Let's Get THIS CLEAR … !!! I DON'T Believe In False Veneers … Cos' Those With Them Are Quick To … " SNEER " … !!!!! I've Seen It Done A Thousand Times … !!!!! This Seems To Be A … " Part of Life " … ? Don't Applaud Just To Be Nice … ?!? Or Even WORSE To Be ... " Polite " ... !!!!! Polite Can Mean A Number of Things … Like … TACTFUL Yes … !!! Which May Mean That ... They're NOT Impressed ... And Say … " NICE Things " … That ... WON'T Upset … !!! "Oh dear, that sounds like most poets ! Those who are, yes, self-obsessed !" Many of Them When They Applaud … Are Simply This … Applauding FRAUDS … !!!!!! Who … HATE To See Good Poetry ... Cos' This Could Mean ... The END of Their DELUDED Dreams … !!!!! This … Of Course … Could Include … ME … ?!? I'm Afraid NOT ………. !!!!!! If Your Words Do NOT Impress … I'll Tell You STRAIGHT … !!!!! "You need to change professions mate !!!" But If I Like The Things You Write ... ? I'll Try To Quote Some of Your Lines … But If I Can't Don't Be Surprised … !!! It's Hard Enough Remembering MINE … !!!!!!!!! The Key Thing Is I Think You'll Find … I'll Give Applause … But NOT Like Those Mentioned Before …. !!! Whose FAKE Applause ... Should Be Ignored … Their Actions YES I Do ABHOR ... !!! Cos' ALL They Do Is Keep ... DUD Scores … !!! And Call For Those Whose Form of Prose … Will Stunt The Growth of Shows They Host. Lyrical Woes ... You Know They Go … So … TERRIBLY Low … !!!!! Like Those Who Clap Within A ... " Claque " ... !!!!! "A hired body of applauders, in a theatre" Like Those Who Go To … " Farrago Slams " … Or Probably Those That Go To … " The Cellar " … **** ..... Applauding FRAUDS Are EVERYWHERE Man … !!!!! Even …. " Unplugged " ….. Becomes A SHAM … When False Applause … Is What's Asked For … ?!? Words Like Those ... Will ROCK Some Jaws … !!! And Won't Get Me … Inside ... " Their Clique " … Or Their Shows … !!! " Oh, What a BLOW !!!!! " I Guess My Prose Just Does Not Get Enough APPLAUSE … For Them To Give My Words … " The Call " … !!! EXCUSES Yes ... I've Heard Them ALL … !!!!! " Too Black !!! " " Too Tall !!! " " I'm waiting for Virgil to call at my event, and watch the people, I present !" And THIS Of Course … "Virge doesn't make people applaud !" That's NOT What Poets Are Here For … !?! Spoken Words Or … Other Sorts … Those Like Me Provoke DEEP THOUGHT … And DO NOT WANT CONTRIVED Applause … !!!!! There's Still A Few Who Share My View … And CLEARLY Do Have STRONG BELIEFS … !!!! About How Poetry SHOULD BE ….. !!!!!!!! Sometimes It NEEDS TO BE ANGRY ... And Should Reflect ... " REALITY " … !!!!! It Should Be Sweet And Flow With Beats ... That's HIP HOP ... !!!!! And NOW WE KNOW The Youth RESPECT … Poets Who ROCK … !!! Promoters Should WATCH … They Might Be SHOCKED … !!! Poetry NEEDS Controversy … !!! And This Will Bring BIG CASH Money … !!!!! From Simple Use of Fluent Speech … !!! But Let Me Guess … !?! They've Got The BEST … !!! Within The UK's Poetry Scene ….. !!!!!! How Can This Be … !?! What NO … " Big V " … !!! Sorry … " BIG VIRGE " ... A Man With TRULY Conscious Words … !!!! They Know It's True … !!!! And Yet They Choose …. To …................................................. Ignore Me …… They're Being RUDE … !!!!! So Words Like These Are Just To PROVE … I'm Watching YES They're Every Move … !!!!! I'm Sure They Think I'm NOT That Great … !!! But Listen Close They've Made Mistakes … !!!!! My Hearing's FINE … !!!!! There Have Been Times I've Heard Them Try … To Act As Though They Like The Way My Wordplay's Styled ... But Still Won't Have My Name … " Headlined " … If That's The Way They Are Inclined … It's NOT A Stress … !!! They Can Bring Their BEST … And I'll ... Take The TEST … !!!! Let's ... START The WAR … !!! Cos' Now I'm SORE … !!! And Think It's Time To … HOT UP Floors … And See Which Names Bring In The Hoards … !!! That's The Way To YES … Keep Score … !!!!! And STOP This Phoney …. FAKE … ........... " Applause " ….........

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I hardly journey there anymore. Those ruins are far and distant, Far and distant, and black and grey. Relics are moon rocks in the frozen landscape. The grand façade of the pantheon has Crumbled into sand. I could crush it all into Dust beneath my heel. The mind itself is an eye, a camera obscura, Lit not by the moon— That old pinged marble— Over whose surface I skim in my tiny submarine. The lunar scene fills my vision, Film noir. I spy the cold garden. In the heart of it Gleams the litter of my chicken bones. My cowardice the wicked reminder, Consequence of the role I performed For the impassive audience. I underwent A sea change in the theatre of their minds. On some other plane Holy voyeurs peer through spyglass, Seeking to undress the celestial paramour. Such delicious vacancy— **** statue in an arena of eyes, Gristle picked clean by vultures. The air is ****** dry. Cold stars Abound in the black sky. Smeared ink the lingering impression, Smudged thumbprint.

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Nov 15, 2019

Nov 15, 2019 at 8:32 PM UTC

I hardly journey there anymore. Those ruins are far and distant, Far and distant, and black and grey. Relics are moon rocks in the frozen landscape. The grand façade of the pantheon has Crumbled into sand. I could crush it all into Dust beneath my heel. The mind itself is an eye, a camera obscura, Lit not by the moon— That old pinged marble— Over whose surface I skim in my tiny submarine. The lunar scene fills my vision, Film noir. I spy the cold garden. In the heart of it Gleams the litter of my chicken bones. My cowardice the wicked reminder, Consequence of the role I performed For the impassive audience. I underwent A sea change in the theatre of their minds. On some other plane Holy voyeurs peer through spyglass, Seeking to undress the celestial paramour. Such delicious vacancy— **** statue in an arena of eyes, Gristle picked clean by vultures. The air is ****** dry. Cold stars Abound in the black sky. Smeared ink the lingering impression, Smudged thumbprint.

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_As his feet moved even faster, and he twirled and whirled and cantered across the stage, it was as if he existed in an indeterminate space - blinded by the footlights, deafened by the orchestra, absorbed in his own rumbustious choreography. Beyond the pit, in the anonymous darkness, the audience rippled and flared appreciatively in response. So he danced on until, with a final rapturous gesture of his outstretched arms, he plunged to earth as dizzy as a snowflake. And waited. The silence shifted. The soft rumble of engine noise played softly in the background, while the chain-link fence rattled in the squall which blew fresh off the harbour. He opened his eyes and watched the cars crawling across the overbridge above him; the empty basketball court littered with yesterday’s snack papers lay in shadow. In the middle distance, a familiar figure walked briskly towards him. ‘Matthew! Matthew! You come here this secon’ or I’ll whip your **** right off, already.’ ‘Yes, Auntie.’ ‘What you doin’ tryna waste good time?’ ‘Nothin’, Auntie.’ ‘Ain’t that the truth, boy.’ As he stooped to gather up his satchel, Matthew saw out of the corner of his eye the concertmaster lower his instrument, incline his head, and begin to tap his music stand with his bow. From the balconies the first of a thousand rose petals began to fall with the evening rain, the applause thundered while the lightning clapped, and there in the gods stood his mother waving and blowing kisses at him, as he followed his aunt down East Street towards home._

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Sep 4, 2019

Sep 4, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC

As Dizzy As A Snowflake

_As his feet moved even faster, and he twirled and whirled and cantered across the stage, it was as if he existed in an indeterminate space - blinded by the footlights, deafened by the orchestra, absorbed in his own rumbustious choreography. Beyond the pit, in the anonymous darkness, the audience rippled and flared appreciatively in response. So he danced on until, with a final rapturous gesture of his outstretched arms, he plunged to earth as dizzy as a snowflake. And waited. The silence shifted. The soft rumble of engine noise played softly in the background, while the chain-link fence rattled in the squall which blew fresh off the harbour. He opened his eyes and watched the cars crawling across the overbridge above him; the empty basketball court littered with yesterday’s snack papers lay in shadow. In the middle distance, a familiar figure walked briskly towards him. ‘Matthew! Matthew! You come here this secon’ or I’ll whip your **** right off, already.’ ‘Yes, Auntie.’ ‘What you doin’ tryna waste good time?’ ‘Nothin’, Auntie.’ ‘Ain’t that the truth, boy.’ As he stooped to gather up his satchel, Matthew saw out of the corner of his eye the concertmaster lower his instrument, incline his head, and begin to tap his music stand with his bow. From the balconies the first of a thousand rose petals began to fall with the evening rain, the applause thundered while the lightning clapped, and there in the gods stood his mother waving and blowing kisses at him, as he followed his aunt down East Street towards home._

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In all mediums of art There is a give and take Between the artist and their audience Both sides must give everything and take everything They’re two halves of a whole In a reciprocal relationship Where they must give 100% To meet each other 50/50 The artist must pour their heart and soul into their work And the audience must reward the artist by doing the same Consuming art with an enthusiastic, optimistic open mind Yet many people don’t consume art this way They enjoy the weight of their own opinions too much So to try to give their opinions credibility They become overly critical and jaded The audience starts to adopt a “this better impress me” attitude But their criteria is always different I met an example in a film discussion with a cynic Who only complained about the plot or CGI Because they didn’t know what else to look for And ended up hating plenty of movies They didn’t know how to watch in the first place Yet on the other side of that coin These people convince themselves they like total **** to seem smart I can never predict what shotgun blast on canvas they’ll call brilliant But it usually relies on the power of suggestion A famous person made it or other people like it Usually explained as “raw emotion” or something along those lines While thoughtful and interesting work is shot down This mentality turns artists away While attracting frauds Who develop a pretense to impress those idiots By acting like an artiste They contribute to a culture devoid of depth Where critical thinking is used to find ways of being different As asserting individuality trumps emotional connection For consumers trying to avoid appearing superficial Yet they just end up unique and shallow

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May 11, 2019

May 11, 2019 at 2:34 AM UTC

In all mediums of art There is a give and take Between the artist and their audience Both sides must give everything and take everything They’re two halves of a whole In a reciprocal relationship Where they must give 100% To meet each other 50/50 The artist must pour their heart and soul into their work And the audience must reward the artist by doing the same Consuming art with an enthusiastic, optimistic open mind Yet many people don’t consume art this way They enjoy the weight of their own opinions too much So to try to give their opinions credibility They become overly critical and jaded The audience starts to adopt a “this better impress me” attitude But their criteria is always different I met an example in a film discussion with a cynic Who only complained about the plot or CGI Because they didn’t know what else to look for And ended up hating plenty of movies They didn’t know how to watch in the first place Yet on the other side of that coin These people convince themselves they like total **** to seem smart I can never predict what shotgun blast on canvas they’ll call brilliant But it usually relies on the power of suggestion A famous person made it or other people like it Usually explained as “raw emotion” or something along those lines While thoughtful and interesting work is shot down This mentality turns artists away While attracting frauds Who develop a pretense to impress those idiots By acting like an artiste They contribute to a culture devoid of depth Where critical thinking is used to find ways of being different As asserting individuality trumps emotional connection For consumers trying to avoid appearing superficial Yet they just end up unique and shallow

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Under the sapphire sky That's dusted with clusters of stars I lay down on the grass I started to count it one by one I started to draw imaginary lines Like constellations, they draw Your full name right

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Mar 28, 2019

Mar 28, 2019 at 10:47 AM UTC

Under the sapphire sky That's dusted with clusters of stars I lay down on the grass I started to count it one by one I started to draw imaginary lines Like constellations, they draw Your full name right

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The audience goes silent As the curtain starts to open There on the stage is a whole other world Maybe one from this galaxy Sometimes from the next But nevertheless the actors preform The characters evolve as the show goes on Then comes the ****** you thought we were done So many twists and turns until a conclusion Oh, the scene is now over The curtains have shut The drama is done These actors take off their makeup But still inside them lives The character they played, the character they once lived.

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Mar 22, 2019

Mar 22, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC

The audience goes silent As the curtain starts to open There on the stage is a whole other world Maybe one from this galaxy Sometimes from the next But nevertheless the actors preform The characters evolve as the show goes on Then comes the ****** you thought we were done So many twists and turns until a conclusion Oh, the scene is now over The curtains have shut The drama is done These actors take off their makeup But still inside them lives The character they played, the character they once lived.

Continue reading...