#production
The show is now over,
we can all go home,
the Spectacular Entertainment
has now been shown.
A Fantastic show
of awe and suspense,
it just blew us away,
our money was well spent.
The Curtains are down,
The crowds start to form,
we applauded with excitement,
yelling out "ENCORE!!!"
As we rise from our seats, and
we straightway to the door.
We Laughed and we Cried,
we Cheered and we Sighed,
The Production was Fantastic
now, it's Time to say goodye.
it was a Terrific night
of joy and delight
it was awesome, and
splendid
"JUST DYNAMITE!!!!"
The Auditorium is still,
not a sound or a peep,
what remains in this state,
is the SIGHT OF EMPTY SEATS.
This PRODUCTION is OVER and
has come to an end,
Will see ya'll next year and
let's do this thing again,
entertainment is what we are,
UNTIL NEXT TIME DEAR FRIENDS!!!!
B.R.
Date: 10/16/2024
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 10:58 AM UTC
Technology and mass production
may be the cause of man's destruction.
__________________
Jun 28, 2024
Jun 28, 2024 at 10:02 AM UTC
I’m chilling and doing homework tonight. Leaning into it.
Last night one of our suitemates (Julia) turned 21 - she’s barable. Not that we get carded anywhere - I’ve never had trouble getting into clubs or ordering drinks - I mean never have I ever.
She had her birthday party at a place called Mory’s, in New Haven, which is very Yale themed. We ate dinner in the “captain’s room,” where every picture on the wall is a Yale team captain of some sort. They even have a whiffenpoof plaque. It’s so Yale-core it’s funny.
Have you ever heard of a drink called a “Singapore Sling?” Me neither, until last night. Then, somehow, there were undrinkable oceans of it. I had six of them, sitting at a bar and I felt nothing. Then I stood up and my bones seemed to liquify. Leong and Anna reeled me in.
I was hangin this morning though, I mean rocky-socks drunkover. My senses seemed sharper, my optical nerves dialed up all the way. The air seemed bright and I swear I could’ve heard the sun burning if people would’ve just stopped all that annoying breathing.
I had a biochemistry quiz at 9am and I can’t wait to see how I did. Later, at breakfast (I had a piece of toast), Peter felt free to offer his sensible, 26-year-old, bropinion. I said, “You’re so wise,” as I steel-eyed him, “I-guess-you-never.”
By the afternoon I was back on my toes. Almost every night my roommates and I sit around a low table in the common room of our suite, crossed legged, on cushions and do our homework. It’s less claustrophobic than sitting in our rooms alone and we usually have some music on, lowkey, in the background.
We’d just heard “Love Story,” by Taylor Swift.
“I like songs that make love sound easy.” I stated.
“Oh, because it IS easy,” Anna says sarcastically, “grab yourself a physicist and make a TikTok song.”
“Hey! I’ve got a beef with TikTok artists, I said. “At first, they release these stripped down, intimate, acoustic songs that feel personal, and then, if a song hits, they put out a new version that’s totally overproduced.”
“Right.” Leong agreed.
“Oh, yeah,” Sophie said, putting her hair back out of her face with a comb, “and some artists' voices are suited to simple accompaniment and the newer versions just don’t hit as hard.”
“I think Phoebe Bridgers is an example of production done right.” Anna said. “Her material continues to sound intimate and stripped down even though it’s no longer just her and a guitar,”
“On Tiktok,” Lisa adds, “when a new song works, I feel a connection, like it could be me recording a song with my guitar - so, I support them.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I updogged, “there’s a place for overproduction but sometimes the instruments don’t even sound real, like when they go all out electronic - then they lose me.”
“The big-music might drown-out the artistry we liked,” Anna opined, “but maybe that’s how they heard it, as songwriters, in their imagination, but they couldn’t afford it - the new version rectifies it.”
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 10:07 PM UTC
Now My Production Line of Rhymes...
Are Spoken Word Designs...
That Will Flow Rather Nice...
When I Get A Good Mic...
To Record Or Drop Live...
And If I Am... ON...
And Am Flowing Them Right...
They’ll Drop Like BIG Bombs...
That Ignite And Take Lives... !!!
My Production Line’s TIGHT...
But Cool At The Same Time... !!!
So Take Time To Rewind...
And Review That Last Line... !!!
And Don’t You Dare Try...
To Hate Or... Criticise... !!!
Because My Lines Don’t Hide...
How I Feel Deep Inside...
About What Life Provides....
A Great Deal That’s NOT Nice... !!!
Like Laughter And Times...
And Days Filled With Smiles...
Or Creating A Child...
After Finding A Wife...
Who’ll Mother Them Right... !!!
Or A Father Who’ll Die...
To Provide For His Child...
These Are Things That You’ll Find...
In My Production Lines...
That Evolve When My Mind...
Is Inspired To Write... !!!
But Balance Is Needed...
Like People Need Breathing...
For The Lines I Produce... !!!
Which Is Why You’ll Find TRUTH...
Is A Thing My Lines Use... !!!
Cos’ They Don’t Deny Lines...
About Our... UGLY Sides...
And How They Can Rock Tides... !!!
So My Lines Don’t Like Pride...
Or Rhymes That Align...
Themselves To Such Vibes... !!!
And Do Not Compromise...
So That They Can Be Liked... !!!
They’re Sleek And Unique...
One Could Even Say... “ Chic “...
When It Comes To Rhyme Speak...
My Production Lines Seek... !!!
Sometimes They Are Bleak...
But Still See The Beauty...
of How Humans Can Be... !!!
When We Deal In LOVE...
PEACE And Being HAPPY... !!!
But Do Not Indulge Dreams...
So REJECT... Fallacies... !!!
My Lines Are A HUNDRED...
So Keep You Well Covered...
With Verse That Is Hunting...
For Good Will In Numbers...
Not Cluttered Or Mumbled...
But Ready To Rumble...
With Those Wanting Trouble...
My Lines Are More Humble...
Than Sales Filled With Jumble... !!!
They’re NOT UNDERSTATED...
But ARE... UNDERRATED ...
In Various Places...
By Some Biased Graders...
Movers And Shakers...
And So Called Creators...
Whose Empire Wavers...
So Employs Young Vader’s...
And ***** Team Players...
To Bring In That Paper...
That Gives Their Lines Status...
While My Lines Are Stationed...
To Stand Just... Adjacent...
To Lines That I See...
That Just LUST For Money... !!!
My Lines Want A PEACE...
That Doesn’t Want Deals...
That STOP Them Being FREE... !!!
Which Would Seem To Be Why...
Even Though They Are Fine...
Refined Designed Rhymes...
That Speak About Life...
And It’s Good And BAD Sides...
That They Have Never Shined...
And Made Mainstream Headlines...
Because What You’ll Find...
Are Products That DON’T Lie... !!!
They’re Just TOP NOTCH Designs...
of Lines For... The WISE... !!!
Produced For The Minds...
With A Taste For What’s RIGHT...
Like Poetic Delights...
That Are Those That Reside...
In...
“My Production Line of Rhymes”
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 6:15 PM UTC
Why are you teaching them
We hate each other
Why are you teaching them
Their country doesn’t care about their health or education
Why are you teaching them
Their worth is judged by how much they produce
Teach children to feel
Teach children to love
Teach children to forgive
Teach children to learn
Teach children that they can tell
How truly alive they are
By the state of their heart
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC
The sun will never again shine bright,
I’ll live my life without that light.
Now I won’t speak another word,
It’s not like they were ever heard.
There’s nothing worth saving left,
You’ve sentenced us both to death.
We’ll continue acting in our show
I’ll enter right and left you’ll go,
the production wasn’t well rehearsed;
it was just another script that was cursed.
There will be no standing ovation,
you’ve opted us both for cremation.
Only silent applause and locked jaws,
on opening night and you take centre light.
There was a solid script you carelessly ripped,
there’s no going back, this is the final act.
I left the only roses on the stage,
it called for it on a lost page.
A whole production with no lines,
‘cause words are just like land mines.
You play your part and play it well,
you’ve sentenced us both to hell.
Only silent applause and locked jaws,
on opening night, the subtext is trite.
There was a solid plot that all the critics bought.
There’s no going back, this is the final act.
The method could not crack, this is the final act.
Closed curtain and fade to black, this is the final act.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
You’ve got your disks ready, your tracks loaded
Your club full, your drugs in
Laptop in front of your fingers
Fiddle with the house rig, call the sound guy back
One more time
Check the setup, recheck the setup,
Check your charge
Battle record on deck, you’re set
How’s your cues?
Run through the tracks and the channels
You’re sprinting
It’s all set, all set, all set, all set, all set
Drink your water, throw it back
Thumbs up the light guy
Toss the bottle under
Your gear under your fingers, worn
And won
Breathe. For a second.
Perfect.
Feel the crowd quiver, feel the house shiver
There’s magic in the air.
black.
(beat.)
(beat.)
(beat.)
LET THE BASS DROP
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 2:59 AM UTC
I am daydreaming about making a difference in this corrupt, broken world but all I can do is to solve tasks that have already been answered. Second after second, year after year, I sit behind bricks in a ramshackle school where everyone are as prisoners in an alternative prison, where the years disappear in meaninglessness. Let me knock down walls and build them again, help the world instead of sitting as a product on a conveyor belt in the middle of a mass production of individuals that have solved the same tasks with the same answers, behind the same wall, at the same table, just to be able to put a way too expensive student cap on ones head and to call oneself a student. But what does it actually mean to be a student? Are you not just another number in the row, yet a grade point average, another helpless individual who can only solve problems where the answer already exists in a rule book. Let me knock down the world and build a new one, where mass production of students does not take place, but where anyone can build a future of new ideas and not only find errors on the old. But before I'm done daydreaming, tens of thousands of old assignments end op on the table, and I must sit on the chair a little longer as the conveyor belt keeps on going.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
What happens when an open space, once a canvas to your thoughts,
turn into a dingy cabin, where you are chained to a chair with no lumbar support
and a program is chipped into your brain to decode client briefs, one after the other,
however idiotic they might be,
only to churn out results that will please a super boss,
who has done the same, for n number of years more than you,
so that the numbers that are not on your side, look irrelevant, coz
the money that you are making for the company is very relevant, to them, their family
and the rest of mankind, but you?
You quit.
No, wait
You’ve got EMI’s to pay.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 5:30 AM UTC
I do not get paid to be an extra
in someone's story. The director
does not offer me notes or cues
on when to interact with the other characters.
I am only there, standing alone
eyes darting around for a subject to speak with.
Even the antagonist drops their sight. The other extras
barely glances at me. Their role is just the same as mine,
but they're hoping they'll outshine me. They brush shoulders,
fingers, as they bump against the crowd.
I remain invisible, lingering in the background,
waiting for my scene to arrive. Ready for a line
in the script. Anxious to be a first choice for once.
No matter how loud I scream that I have yet to tell my story, they will not notice me.
And I know the other dying extras are told the same thing-
write your own script. Make your own production.
Pitch ideas until one sparks, and that becomes your entity.
But it is hard to see that the girl in red
is pushed all the way in the back of the white sea unwillingly.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
I'm sitting here thinking about all of the productive things I could be doing at this time of night, instead of sitting here watching Netflix and writing poetry that you won't ever read. But then I remember that there's nothing productive that I'd want to do without you here.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
When the wind blows
the heart goes
wild, though you're now known
for resolution
Waving, you wave to meet me
planted feet, we work on
and never will the will divide, subside or enervate
knowing all the drive of future forward
blast the past and liberate
the little pieces to combine
to gain one whole life once shattered
we come to meeting
stand to celebrate
When will this wind stop beating at the windows?
When they ask, tell them straight and lively, it won't.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC