"actor" poems
Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.
Hi. How you doin’?
I just got back into town,
L.A.
I was out in the desert for awhile
“Riders on the storm”
Yeah. In the middle of it
“Riders on the storm”
Right…
“Into this world we’re born”
Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem
“Into this world we’re thrown”
When I was out on the desert, ya know
“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”
I don’t know how to tell you
“Riders on the storm”
but, ah, I killed somebody
“There’s a killer on the road”
No…
“His brain is squirming like a toad”
It’s no big deal, ya know
I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…
“take a long holiday”
just, ah…
“Let your children play”
this guy gave me a ride, and ah…
“If you give this man a ride”
started giving me a lot of trouble
“Sweet family will die”
and I just couldn’t take it, ya know
“Killer on the road”
And I wasted him
Yeah.
50.2k
Watch out for power,
for its avalanche can bury you,
snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.
Watch out for hate,
it can open its mouth and you'll fling yourself out
to eat off your leg, an instant *****
Watch out for friends,
because when you betray them,
as you will,
they will bury their heads in the toilet
and flush themselves away.
Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.
Watch out for games, the actor's part,
the speech planned, known, given,
for they will give you away
and you will stand like a naked little boy,
******* on your own child-bed.
Watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes),
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream won't be heard
and none of your running will end.
Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
Special person,
if I were you I'd pay no attention
to admonitions from me,
made somewhat out of your words
and somewhat out of mine.
A collaboration.
I do not believe a word I have said,
except some, except I think of you like a young tree
with pasted-on leaves and know you'll root
and the real green thing will come.
Let go. Let go.
Oh special person,
possible leaves,
this typewriter likes you on the way to them,
but wants to break crystal glasses
in celebration,
for you,
when the dark crust is thrown off
and you float all around
like a happened balloon.
11.7k
Being an actor or actress
Doesn't mean you are on broadway,
Or a star of a hit reality TV show.
Being an actor or actress
Means you step onto the stage
And give it your all.
You accept the spotlight
Not as a blinding piece of equipment,
But as a sun shining on you,
Bringing you to life.
When you hear the term
Break a leg
You form a grin,
Knowing it's not literal.
When the laughter
Of a crowd on opening night
Encourages you and gives you hope.
Being an actor or actress
Isn't about the flowers
Or the repetitive good jobs after a show.
Being an actor or actress
Is about the butterflies you get
Before you go on stage.
It's about the energy you feel
When you and your cast
Do something spectacular
On stage.
Being an actor or actress
Is an outlet from the real world.
It allows you to step onto stage
And forget about the boy
Who broke your heart,
Or the money struggles,
Or the bombs going off
In other countries.
It allows you to step into
A new and exciting universe,
Where nothing else matters except,
Being an actor or actress.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Feel empty in your post apocalyptic City of Angels,
Where not even your pets are real!
An electric android, a sheep or a frog,
The whir-flutter of micro-electrical wings of a butterfly.
Good, and so you ought.
Now grab the handles of your empathy box,
And in a shared virtual hallucination –
Feel: empathy, depression, pain, delusion and despair,
The outré myriad gifts of consciousness.
Billions of discombobulated and disconnected wrecks:
Adam's sons; Eve's daughters,
And among them simulations too,
Fakes! androids!
A phony circuit of implanted semi-conscious memories,
A hive of neural malaise!
Welcome to our world;
know how dead inside I am.
You, yes, you:
Need a pet to make you more complete?
Maybe you can afford
A Fake Fakir Flake like me who looks like Jude Law,
Sounds like Richard Burton,
And silently romances you like Rudolph Valentino.
Come and stick what’s left of your mind,
In here,
In hair,
Hear her:
har, har, har…
A box of lies...
A voice, Mercer's,
With texture from an age you neither lived in nor dared in:
Al Jerry's, a TV actor,
Droning on in pre-selected tones.
The real thing, the men, the women, the children - their animals -
Made in the wild, wild desert,
In the green pulsing savannah,
On the open crusted sea;
Now too, washed, choked, and drained,
Too many spliced and diced mutations,
Iterating your image:
The thing that was my heart,
My Child, now its imitation.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
Emotion and tone,
like sugar
in your tea.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
Reconstituting globalization to
re-imagine democracy.
By throwing out scale we
the economizers are forced
to turn into misers
and the satisfisers
might rid themselves
of their pacifiers.
It's all about story and
consuming someone else's
turns you into
an actor, an automaton.
Was it prescribed?
Were you imbibed?
Then you are impaled
on an un-truth and
living out a script
that is not your own.
Time to get ruthless and
cut those strings that
lead us to, plead us to
buy, buy, buy (and cry, cry, cry).
Of course, we might find
a guru
to lead us to promises
of promised lands but
this ain't the way to
Yahweh
Unlock the path that lies within.
I'm talking 'bout multi-spectrum bridges
resonating in frequencies
that ring true for you:
this is the story of Power Geometry
re-constituted
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
#
There was a time
within me
I wanted to be
an actor
beaming
on stage
or a screen
big or small
no matter to me
after all
The exposure is nice
I guess
and all that kind of stuff
but that’s not what drew me to it
Just being an actor
was enough
I enjoy performing
and have a memory
for lines
One of those people
who can quote
a whole movie
It plays in my head
can fast forward
and rewind
But it’s easy to recite
the work of another
One who already
searched within
and discovered
what to emote
the affect
and such
To replay like a puppet
That’s not saying much
Could I nail
the scene
and get the feeling right?
When other actors work with me
maybe they might
get inspired
to the point
they become lost in the scene
We’re reliving
the story
A fantastic team
When the director yells
“Cut!”
all applaud and cheer
Tears in the eyes of some
touching memories
they hold near
The performance
The “art”
that’s what matters most
A singer belting out a song
or a comic
at a roast
The thought of it now
gets me giddy
and inspired
but yet
here I sit
In my chair
I am mired
Never took that step
Overcoming
all that fear
My doubts and insecurities
Worry how much others care
That fear
of failure
or that I wouldn’t
“measure up”
A deer frozen
in headlights
I am forever stuck
And as the time continues on
The days, and months and years roll by
Which is the greater loss?
If I failed
or never tried?
#
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
to make a scene,
even if you're not on stage...
it really is your style.
i applaud you.
bravos!
bravos!
i thought
i was the actor and
you the director
or more like the puppeteer
and i would
drag Myself,
the puppet
along and dance
dance to your poorly written songs
and recite your pathetic soliloquies
amusing
how you are trying so hard
and all i can think is
that this might be the interval
and some lunatic got on stage
wishing he could be part of all this.
but i am really enjoying my ice cream, you know?
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
There's just something about them.
I love gazing into peoples eyes.
The eyes of those I love.
Those who I am intimate with.
They are the gateway to the soul,
To the core of an individual.
You can see through their eyes,
The love, The pain,
The passion, The devotion,
The struggles, The triumphs,
That is kept hidden within.
You may be the best actress or actor,
But when looked straight in the eyes,
You become defenseless.
Your eyes renders your mind useless, it betrays the mind.
They show the truth that lies beneath all the skin and bones.
A soft and naive soul who does not want to be harmed.
A soul too scared to show its true colours to the world,
Scared that it will be rejected, ignored, misunderstood.
A battered soul that hides within.
A soul who has become so strong through all the struggles.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
I start way up high,
with others like me in the sky.
I am a raindrop.
We are all the same.
None of us are the cream of the crop.
None of us are lame.
We are waiting up here.
Just waiting to go.
Up here in the atmosphere.
Waiting to flow.
First we must fall.
First it must be cold.
There is no warning call.
No sign of us getting old.
The warmth brought us here.
Cooling will do the opposite.
To allow us to fall like a tear.
To allow us to fall composite.
Then my journey will start.
I hope for great joy.
Like an actor getting to play their part.
Like a child getting their first toy.
I can feel the cold creeping in
and the warmth starting to fade.
Now my travels will soon begin.
Could my travel start with a glade?
Maybe I will land in a lake.
Maybe I will land in the city.
Hopefully not the latter for my sake.
For I may be stomped on without pity.
My time here is now done.
No more having to wait.
It is hopefully time to have some fun.
Falling, I will soon see my fate
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
Would you judge me?
Do y'know i wont judge you?
Can I be anything I want to be?
Or are there rules I have to conform to?
Spaceman cowboy hippie gangster stoner rockstar chef painter poet
playwright carpenter inventor scientist mathematician author actor
gardener tailor sailor musician comedian doctor pilot barista volunteer
partyplanner spiritualist director engineer psychologist beautician
Please do forgive me but there's more.
I'm greedy, I know, I want it all.
Immense experiences galore.
Money to me means null.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
There is magic in live theatre
It can't be understood
For even watching a bad play
Is really something good
The footlights and the curtains
The sound of actors on the boards
Of orchestras and the sound effects
Of cheaply painted swords
The theatre is a special place
It excites me to no end
It's a long lost brother coming home
It's a warm and welcome friend
Sitting in a theatre
Waiting for the overture
Is an illness I suffer happily
And one for which I wish no cure
Good theatre is transporting
Takes you where the actor lives
You sense it in the speeches
That every actor gives
You get lost in what's going on
You feel hurt and you feel pain
And when you get another chance
You splurge and go again
Live theater is hypnotic
It's a world that stands alone
It's a place inside your being
You learn how love is shown
It's where you listen to great music
Played by artists never seen
Where you hear the actor's heartbeat
Unlike on the silver screen
Live theatre is true magic
I can't tell you how I feel
when I see a live performance
I know exactly what is real
The lights are slowly dimming
I hear them closing the lobby doors
Shhhhh....the orchestra is ready
Here comes the overture.....
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
perfectly poised, i paint poignant statures
alive yet devoid, an entrancing actor
diamonds and daggers i dazzled through
a circus girl's cunning, but a heart beats true
pirouette, ball change, waltz and twirl
singsong silly circus girl
my heart is heavy but i cannot weep
my eyes are closed but i never sleep.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
everyone wants to be an architect. everyone wants to be a doctor. everyone wants to be a celebrity. everyone wants to be an author. everyone wants to be a scientist. everyone wants to be a rock star. everyone wants to be a professional football player. everyone wants to be a photographer. everyone wants to be an artist. everyone wants to be a news reporter. everyone wants to be a lawyer. everyone wants to be the president. everyone wants to be a professor. everyone wants to be a pilot. everyone wants to be an actor. everyone wants to be a therapist. everyone wants to be a business owner. everyone wants to be an interior designer. everyone wants to be a pastor. everyone wants to be a magician. everyone wants to be a dentist. everyone wants to be a chef. everyone wants to be a film director. everyone wants to be something. everyone wants to be someone.
nobody wants to be something they don’t want to be. but nobody wants to do anything to be who they want to be. you have a goal. you have a dream. who said dreams can’t be achieved? nobody. one of the greatest and most powerful feelings is accomplishing something you once thought to be impossible. maybe your goal is in fact impossible. maybe there’s no way in hell that you can be who you want to be. maybe it is a dream. maybe it is a fantasy. so what do you do? you do the impossible.
make it rain.
there’s somebody that you love. somebody who’s smile makes your day. somebody who makes your week when you make them laugh. somebody you wish you knew better. somebody who could fix every bad feeling you have in your life just by you being with them. and they don’t recognize what you would do for them. how much you would love and take care of them. how do you make somebody notice something that they can’t see? you do the impossible.
make it rain.
there’s a way to do everything. you just have to find it. the answer won’t just appear over night. you have to fall into your fantasy. walk into your dream, rip it out of your head, and make it the reality. and never give up. nothing is impossible.
everyone wants to be loved. everyone wants to be remembered. everyone wants to graduate. everyone wants to talk to god. everyone wants to climb a mountain. everyone wants to get their driver’s license. everyone wants to get a job. everyone wants to get her attention. everyone wants to be his girl. everyone wants to learn an instrument. everyone wants to make more money. everyone wants to never stop smiling. everyone wants to win the lottery. everyone wants to score the winning point. everyone wants to be a superhero. everyone wants to grow taller. everyone wants to be able to walk again. everyone wants to be able to see. everyone wants to be able to hear. everyone wants to have a home. everyone wants to bring him back to life. everyone wants to have a shirt to wear in the winter. everyone wants a family for christmas. everyone wants a best friend. everyone wants one friend. everyone wants to take the gun from his head. everyone wants to save the world. everyone wants to feed them all. everyone wants to build them a home. everyone wants to get rid of her cancer. everyone wants to bring their soldier home. everyone wants to stop racism. everyone wants to be gay without being judged. everyone wants to feel safe. everyone wants to turn their life around. everyone wants to…
make it rain, mr. architect.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
*"Living would be an awful adventure"
Said the actor in my favorite movie
Now I understand
The meaning of those words
'Cause in life we do stupid things
Things we can't do over
No matter how much we wish
Some things can happen due to misunderstandings
And misunderstandings can lead to a lot of awful things
You might end up saying hurtful things,
which you never meant
Words you can't take back
No matter how much you regret...
In the end you'll sit back
With all the hurtful things
that you've Said and done
While all the other words
Are stuck on your tongue
As the actor said
"Living would be
an awful adventure"*
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
An artist draw
A writer write
An actor act
And an admirer admire
But sometimes we need to look back
To people that has been supporting us
To ones who helps in need
To that person following the path we lead
I can't write a good poem
That's not true the poem is in you
And If I keep one trying why?
Look at the sky vast and high
We need supporters
One is enough
But two won't hurt
And so on
Life full of ups and downs
Surprise or repetition
Reward of punishment
But think of that as a gift not a burden
We can learn a lot from people around us
Behaving, Talking, and such
Sometimes looking back worth a try
But don't let the time passes by
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
*Some are jealous of my life
because it is the single strife
No kids to to clean up after
No roles for the actor
No husband to answer to
No nightly deja vu
No cooking and cleaning that must be done
No filled minivans, on the run
No soccer practice, no paintings to hang
No afternoon quarrels of who should pick up the 'tang'
The grass is always greener
I always say
For my nights and days are filled with gray
I cook and clean for myself
For these are the cards I've been dealt
No one to answer to
No quarrels or games
This life alone is such a shame
The pictures I hang are of my travels
But all I want are crayonned marvels
A family of which to call my own
More than a dog to fill my home
I pray on my knees
to give me all of these
That which is greener over sees*
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
I wish I could run with you
in your silent packs
I have done my share of howling
a prisoner of this sluggish, two legged species
that cannot chase down prey
or take flight, without the crafted creations
of others,
I can, if I wade warily through
waves of wind, and time,
dance with you,
on moon grazed prairies
but only until the sun cracks the dawn
and exposes me, for the vain actor I am
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
you caused this fire
with a dimpled smile and a plane ticket
can’t suffocate a blaze with a match
petrol running down my legs
wanna watch me burn at the stake?
7,000 miles of wildfires called me by your name
like a moth drawn to a flame
we kissed on the light up floor
your fingers inside of me, it was divine to me
surrendering my soul to my god
left my lipstick scars all over you
i ate the apple from the softness of your hand
our garden of eden was no holy land
i let you knock at the door of my spine
no malice in my voice, come inside
but baby, you weren’t expecting
me to multiply
like a moth drawn to a flame
i bit your tongue in the break of day
wanted to taste your blood for a change
nothing like a little emotional
devastation to get me through it
yell it más, señor
til your vocal cords are ******
oath taken in sacred silence
tragedy and insanity and is
it all a game to you?
because you hid while i sought
yell it más, señor
yell it más
and when i told you of the flower blossoming within
you cried like a boy for his mother
you see, there’s no way we can keep it
not for your career
and the next day on the 405
my soul wrung empty inside
suffocating loneliness, all-consuming
75mph, nearly opened my door
told my therapist i wanted the asphalt to eat me alive
they took me to the madhouse
while you had a pint and a laugh miles from my hospital bed
they said
“she wants to end her life with a baby inside, oh, what a terrible state she’s in”
the doctor watched me as i cried
with cigarette breath and roaming hands
forced the wand inside of me
at the same time i jumped over the ledge
and did you know i laid in silence
while he whispered in my ear
“good girl, it’s a girl”, you see, oh?
can’t you feel the joy?
of creating something like God herself?
like vines sprouting from the soil?
but Oceania, so much panic, yeah
too far, didn’t wanna come near
my ash-strewn wreckage
like a moth drawn to a flame
blazing light, burned just right
i wanted you to suffocate my pain
pretended it didn’t exist for our
transpacific love games
i’ll be Marilyn and you be Errol
the actor who can’t survive any longer
and the one who devoured a woman whole
yell it más, señor
oh god i’m bleeding on the bathroom floor
so much sacrifice for paradise
but isn’t this what it’s for?
tragedy and insanity and
oh no, it’s all a game, i see
yell it más, señor
yell it más
aliel
enaj
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 8:08 AM UTC
Sara L Russell, 15th January 2016, 00:04
-------------------------------------------------------------------
So yeah this is me and Julie outside H&M;…
trying too hard to look ****
Desperate tarts more like.
We went to Starbucks after that, then the pub,
and then… the rest of the afternoon's a blur. Haha.
----------✿-----------
Oh yes and this one's me with Foo Foo,
stupid cat's sitting on top of my presentation.
She can be useless at times but she makes a good hot water bottle
when it's like, really cold? You know? Cats are great for that.
Dead sympathetic too. Good listeners.
----------✿-----------
Oh now this is a good one. This is me
with that **** actor off I'm a Celebrity.
He was in… actually I can't remember what he was in?
Really like, **** though? Yet I've only seen him on I'm a Celebrity?
Anyway he was cool with stopping for a selfie. God love him.
(Whoever he is).
----------✿-----------
Ahh… this one is me with Julie again. She's such a ******
She's got one of those light up Santa hats on. Daft *****
Never did get one for me. Not that I'd wear one.
I prefer those furry reindeer antlers.
See? There's one of me with antlers on.
----------✿-----------
Oh here's one of me and Mum.
Yeah very sad I know. She tries so hard to be cool, bless her.
Embarrassing really. I gave her my old phone and
she still hasn't worked out how to use it.
Takes loads of photos of herself though.
So sad.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
I am the wind when the tide is high
And the clouds hang like broken picture frames in the sky,
Holding on for a moment of glory
While the poet’s haunting words write me life’s little story.
I am the sun when the world has no shine,
A gleam lost within the precious folds of time.
My manner of pride surpassing
What so long ago became everlasting,
For the days have become nothing more than an actor’s last scene.
I am thunder rippling in the dark
As the raindrops wound the already fragile hearts.
Sorrow falling upon the world like a blanket,
Wondering how much longer our broken souls can take it.
I am lost when the storm shatters the world,
Breaking the glass as the space between the lines unfurl.
And wandering like no man wanders before,
Hanging from the busted seam brought by greed, hunger, and war,
Never allowing their dreams to wash upon a dusty shore.
I am lightning, vibrant and ready to be a guide in the night,
Ready to end the darkness with a future promising and bright.
I am lightning, leading them through the storm
And abolishing the suffering that our hearts and our souls transformed.
I am lightning amongst thunder, ironically quiet and frightened,
Yet, they forget that their darkness too deserves to be lightened.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
Bring out the pottery boy
Mr A said
bring it out front
so the other boys can see
your work
I took out my clay pottery
attempt to the front of class
and stood there
holding the pottery
on a wooden tray
Mr A gazed at me
through his black framed
Beatnik glasses
his eyes like huge marbles
what you call this
huh boy?
I looked at the hand rolled
clay ***
haven't called it
anything yet
I said
thinking of a name
he went stern eyed at me
are we attempting wit
as well as pottery?
He said
a mild titter
from some boys
in the class
here
he said
in a raised voice
like a failed actor
here we have
an example how not
and I repeat NOT
to make a ***
the classroom went quiet
I stared at my ***
lopsided and brown
like a rushed ****
what were you attempting?
Mr A asked
whatever it was
it most certainly was not
a ***
I said nothing
I gazed at him
in his snot green jumper
and Beatnik beard
and brown
corduroy trousers
and sandals
I don't know
why I bother
with pupils like you boy
he said
waste of my time
I stood looking
passed him at Danny
who was boss eyed
and pulling a face
I suppressed a smile
and looked dull
go back to your place
and spare me
the sad boy look
so I returned to my desk
with my ***
leaning further east
and placed it down gently
as if it were some work
of modern art
Mr A then poked
Eddie in the back
and held up his ***
which went in and out
like armless model
of Greek design
worse
Mr A said
than mine.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
There's a certain condition known as losing connection
involving people, places and things of strong affection.
The phenomenon is marked by one or two parting to separate ways
and a feeling of disconnection is experienced highlighting the days.
Where the people concerned, in the past, were once close together,
are all now, due to a lack of communication, more apart than ever.
Once good friends, close relatives, associates and even lovers
have all fallen victim to the malady of estrangement as others.
We should never underestimate the effect of the passage of time
especially when augmented with distance that determines clime.
In this case the distance between the minds and hearts of all those who
have so drifted apart from each other no longer holding the same view.
It may also be a case where people have outgrown or transcended themselves
and do not identify any more with what was once regarded as familiar delves.
The vicissitudes of life can also be a major cause and often very decisive factor
where on the stage of this world one assumes or takes the role of a different actor.
Who knows to what degree a situation can change or influence the course of events
and leaves those alienated, that were once close together, now with different intents.
Another very obvious aspect is the physical departure because of death
of all those who, in this life, virtually shared the same space and breath.
It has also been written that, the soul of a person gone, sometimes tries to revive
or contact those whom it had most connection with while it was physically alive.
The same can be said of some of those who are still in their earthly ****** form
and cannot cope without the assurance or connection that before was the norm.
__________________________________
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
Of distressing note
Is never finding out
How to keep
An audience beguiled
They consume mockery
With more than a voracious appetite
They judge an act
With mouths open and eyes closed
What a pity
What a shame
What an ordeal
For the somber actor
b.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC