"auditioning" poems
To me you show choir is really cool. There are 16 singer dancers' 1 drummer' 1 piano' 1 guitar' And string instruments. Of course I am auditioning for drummer. Because I am one. Everyone will think I am phenomenal. Because I am. I will blow people's mind like tnt mixed with grenades ' bombs'C4' And Fire. I am that good. But is it only 7th and 8th graders. So next year they will need a drummer. And next year that part will be mine. And no one will take it for me.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.
I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.
Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next
Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?
All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand
Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day
I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does
I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid
But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.
Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,
"I wonder where that thing had been."
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
A ride in the metro
is always an adventure.
Getting coins for departure.
Waiting for the trains.
with baggage in hands.
Roughed up buns.
Messed shirts.
Oversized sweaters.
skinny jeans.
converse shoes.
Green bag.
Glasses on.
earphones in.
The metro runs like a bird
running for rescue
of her child in trouble.
Blows off all the hair.
trying to gather balance,as
it almost blew me off.
getting in is a mission.
for first timers like me,
we like to be polite
and let others get in
and get out
before we could.
even if it meant you have to
wait for another to come in.
Getting in was an
ACCOMPLISHMENT.
with all people staring at you.
like you are welcomed as
an angel in hell.
i manage to get a hold of a handle.
surviving till your stop is
horrendous.
ranging from
smelly armpits
to foul smelled oiled hair
to watching cheap gel
used on scanty hair,
to seeing weird chick humming songs
as if nobody;s watching them lip sync
as if they were
auditioning fro their life's
biggest concert
to people staring you
like you'll just get *****
to guys reading scandalous and
****** news
deeply interested
to people who like it
when girls fall on them.
Its a funny trip.
to girls talking about how
romantic is their friend's boyfriend
to couples getting an excuse
to get close to each other
and holding hands.
Wow.
A metro ride is
a new adventure
altogether.
everyday.New people.
New places.
New experiences.
NEW life.
NEW everything.
I liked it today.
for a change.
sigh.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
**
Who notices prepositions
unless they dangle
like earrings
begging the spotlight.
They act
like auditioning extras
or photo-bombers.
Of the people, for the people, by the people,
what does that even mean
when we, the people
are simply people
trying out humanity.
My nephew goes blah blah blah,
which is cute and could
mean anything when
spoken randomly _ an 18-month old,
like prepositions
_ the people:
_ God, we trust.
**
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
Today she told me she made it through every
try out round for
America’s Next Top Model and when
she went home to tell her girlfriend that she made it on the show,
she got her face beat in so bad, Miss Jay didn’t even
recognize her the next day.
She wasn’t on the show.
——
Today is roses,
wilted petals,
flowers from I-don’t-know-where
that have landed in our bathroom,
have sunk themselves in an empty bottle of ***
two handles on the side,
the better to smell them with.
——
Today I am covered in a museum collection of
bug bites and lumps and
scratches and bruises
and leg rashes
and I don’t know where anything has come from,
not even
me.
——
Today he asked me how the poetry is coming.
I said it is slow.
——
Today I wanted to kiss a boy because it was his birthday,
and I don’t think he’s ever kissed a girl before,
and I think he should
if he wants to
on his birthday.
——
Maybe I will tomorrow.
——
Today has barely begun, is three hours in
was 6 minutes too late to buy
gas station beer
but we bought two cigarillos
and on the drive back,
talked to three kids who had just seen a UFO.
I missed it.
——
Today he threw a tomato at my face,
and it slid off and landed on the floor with a splat as I screamed.
There were customers.
——
Today I had to explain why I keep
leaving people.
I have to be alone, I said.
——
Today I dressed for myself.
Thank God.
——
Today I listened to country music and covered my ears
because they hurt but also it hurt
to not listen to it with my Dad in the truck, driving
anywhere
but today I picked a boy up and taught him how to swing me around
and he picked me up and spun me in his arms and
I think that’s how you do country.
——
Today my cis, male, white, Mormon, wait-till-marriage-to-have-sex English teacher
talked about **** shaming
and the patriarchy
and he gets it
and thank God.
——
She is auditioning to model, again.
There is no one to take her face away.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
Maybe I should try it
Maybe I should not
It's a risk I can take
It's an opportunity that came to me
Two sides insidE my head
One saying I should
I should tell him I like him
I should run out there and sing
I should audition for the school play
But the other,
Ohh the other side.
telling me I could fail
I could get rejected
Or hit a bad note
Of do a horrible job while on stage
Who or what should I do
Who should I listen too
They both make a point
I don't want to fail
I could take a rejection
I couldn't handle the embarrassment
But I know one thing
I cant loose if I don't bet
But I won't win either
And if I loose, I will know what love is
I will practice more with high notes
I would be a better actor
What's the worst that can happen
Rejection
Laughs
Disappointment
But that's life
I won't ever know
In the future I will regret it
Like I regret now
Not taking my chances in the ropes coarse
Not going up the caves
Not auditioning for the right plays
Besides it's now,
Later I will be better
And more prepared
And if I fall again
I will know how to get up easier
The harder my first fall is
The easier it will be o get up on the next fall
I can do it
I will do it
I did it
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
I’m not going to make money by
Creating some clever gadget.
That costs too much for advertising
To fit in my future budget.
I’m not going to write a book yet
Because they are hard to sell.
I decided against self-help seminars.
Sitting through those is hell.
I’m not going to learn hairdressing
So I can be a pricey hair ******
I’m not going to write recipes to show
A hundred ways to use a blender.
I ruled out auditioning for **** flicks
I’m far to shy for all that.
I won’t be trying to make viral videos
Of adorable fuzzy little cats.
You won’t be hearing any hit songs
Written by me, myself and I.
I can’t carry a tune and can’t rhyme
So, right away I won’t even try.
I can’t paint and I can’t draw at all
So, I won’t be a world-class artist.
I won’t become a rocket scientist
In math I was never the smartest.
I'm not going to start some con game
And leave them all in the lurch.
Well, in a manner of speaking I am,
Because I'm starting a church.
I’ll spend tons of money on my home
And make a big flashy cathedral
Then spend lots of time bragging
How it’s all so very spiritual.
People will send me lots of cash thinking.
That will get them into heaven.
I’ll make more money selling God to them
Than owning a thousand 7-11s.
I’ll only need to convince my followers that
I have the get-out-of-hell-free card;
That I am the path to understanding God
And that just can’t be that hard.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 6:02 AM UTC
I sing because I like it, it is fun to do.
I sing out loud even though I'm not good.
I sing for myself and not for you.
I sing because it puts me in a good mood.
Don't make fun of my singing, it's not perfect I know.
It's not like I plan on auditioning for a show.
I sing for the heck of it, to please myself.
I sing for me and nobody else.
So I shall sing with pride, sing for all to hear.
I'll sing till I die 'cause it brings me such cheer.
If you don't like my singing then you're out of luck.
I'll be singing forever and you can't shut me up.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
What's really the cause of its arrival:
"it"'s questions.
"I"'m music.
I'm the part where words are said
that's to say not sung.
The context of my head's no more object than thought.
We'll take a while to talk about it.
Assuming "it", "talk", and "we" are any realer than the words within them.
If not then flesh, now you've eaten.
This is where it becomes convoluted.
uuuuhhhh
Is its own stanza
this "uuuuhhhh"'s in your voice in your head now.
In or outside,
your heads still a part of it strange enough.
Out or inside,
my hands still a part of it strange enough.
strange enough
my hands outside or in "it".
"it"'s been explained.
I want "you" to picture"me" holding a rock to the sun
asking why neither are thirsty.
"you" want "me" to be a rock in a picture of the sun,
"you" don't need to ask to be thirsty,
"i"m niether.
Water and a handful of pennies
makes a mouthful for a moment.
Last nights moment's a *** of coffee in my mouth,
told to self I really was trying to sleep.
How many "you"s in this poem's really "you" "you"'ve asked.
I'll say so much as to know the answer's the sun,
that said that still I'm not sure.
How many "I"'s in this poem's really "I" "I"'ve asked.
You'll see so much as to guess the answers: under pain of death.
That's your words, my head.
Set your things on top of me,
I'm auditioning for the part of a table made from a different table .
I've played the part of the one who built it.
Neither move.
Lines please.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
fall, (v.)
what i did.
home, (n.)
when i am with you, there is nowhere else i'd rather be; and i am a person who always wants to be somewhere else.
hurt, (v.)
i have vague memories of what i said the night i lied to you that i did not love you, but i remember my voice hitching in my throat. i remember it hurt.
kiss, (v.)
our faces are inches from each other. you freeze, and i giggle before calling you a coward. i rarely kiss first; but if i didn't, then i don't think that distance between us would've closed at all.
lost, (adj.)
i was willing to let you go, and yet, at the same time, i have never wanted to be so /selfish/ in my entire life.
love, (n.)
you.
mine, (n.)
what i want you to be.
name, (n.)
your mother's maiden name was the same as my ex' middle name. i remember laughing until my sides hurt once i found out.
prom, (n.)
"you're all mine on prom night." prom night never happened, but it's the thought that counts.
song, (n.)
all those corny tunes on the radio have been reminding me of you lately.
sick, (adj.)
you, too very often. i wish i knew how to take care of you but i can barely do that for myself.
sing, (v.)
my most vivid memory of you includes you auditioning to our glee club with together in electric dreams. you ****** we would laugh about it later on.
stay, (v.)
you make it so hard to leave.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
there’s a mattress on the side of the road that everyone pulls over to jump on. hell, some get half a mile down and come back having thrown their shoes out the window. others go all the way home to get their unattended children or oldest relation. some of the cars seem to be auditioning for destitute
rucksack
clowns. also hell I saw recently a two person bike with no one on it give over and rest on the mattress. my worst thoughts you beat with a broom.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
All the world, a stage
And all the stage, an act
And all the act, a script
And all the script, a lie
And all the lie, the world!
The audience directs
while the actors watch
The globe theater of
ever-changing roles
Auditioning for parts
Without knowing their lines.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
I wake up as She
and she's auditioning soon;
vying for a part no one can play
but everyone auditions for anyway.
And so we all sit in those
steel foldable chairs that never
get folded back into their original
form, because the bodies always
keep them warm.
The original selves
long for something else to be;
troubled souls in search for
broken homes; like the hidden
shadows of the known unknown.
I am her lips as they
part, close together
like the jaws of a shark,
reciting lines back to the director
crooked and parallel, aligned
waves of soft sounds; they reach
the peaks of receptacle body language
only to suddenly fall back down
barely scathing the director's emotions.
The director sees that there is talent
that lies within the woman;
I am her, and I was
a father of three darling daughters
not too long ago...
But I stand before the director
as her, and there are others
patiently waiting,
like the anchored piranhas
of the binary forest,
the Stygian vultures
of the neon desert;
and they vouch for
each other's safety
until they have landed
the Oscar award winning
scene; the all white cast
beams like the headlights
of an oncoming car.
Their hands free of guilt
washing the darkness away
from my rising star, my ship
no longer corroded brown
but assimilated, organized,
gentrified;
a man redesigned,
retrofitted and recombined
standing before the petrified
live audience as Her
in an ocean blue
dress;
a blood capsule
ready to burst with
finite increments
of happiness.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Trying to do well but knowing you can't,
Always trying to impress dressing for the best.
Getting called up in class waiting in line,
This feeling I get seems to twist up my insides.
You'll pick on me in class trying to catch me out,
But I'm stronger than you think won't knock me down.
My friends waste their time on boys and clothes,
Me I'm over here auditioning for shows.
I know it's for the best but can't help but overthink,
What it would be like if I'd never met you and all your links.
This place will be the thing that'll break me,
But I won't let it fill me because this is what I think,
I'm a balloon floating through the sky,
You won't ever catch me I'm far too high.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC
Screaming out of a dream
tears drying on my face
screaming at a brick wall
that was once a bomb shelter
The gunfire still in my ears
of words spoken months ago
empty shells on the ground
now no power left in them
Old paintings behind my bed
abandoned and yellowed memories
unchanging like food rations
I get out of my bed quickly
escaping from the visions
a reaching hand, saving me
from falling off a chair
I run to my door and grab
the handle being a lever
for the overflowing boiler
As I exit the room anxious
like an auditioning actor
I feel the sun greet me
that's when I know
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
They say that the twenty first day is the worst,
I thought the first was and the second and third,
word on the street is
' no one can beat this '
I never believed them boyz in the 'hood,
always up to no good, never giving a ****
I growed me a while and word is,
I'm a man.
On the fourteenth day when they say that the curse hits you hard
I was reading a sonnet penned by the 'Bard' wondering if his life was as hard as the times that he lived in, wonder if he ever gave in,
a saving grace here is that stupid dies and has no respect or fear of fear.
I survey the wreckage and yet I survive, a
high five to the gods of the day.
And Santa is coming they say, but that's on the twenty fifth day, they're auditioning wise men who are all in disguise, men freed from the nine to five, men who are on their way home.
Anyway the twenty first day ain't too bad,
I ain't as crazy, it's the World that's gone mad.
It only takes a miracle and the rest is passé
except for today and word is
twenty one is
lucky for some.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Tears drowning chestnut eyes
As I sing brokenly along to "sing!" playlist,
Wincing inwardly at my awful voice,
Which is caught between male and female,
No, no, stop, no,
Don't even think about auditioning.
A career stopped in its tracks
before I can even dream.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
in a childhood
some child
had
as if late
in locking
the gates
of the orphanage
as if drunk
on a long
history
of being average
in isolation
as if auditioning
for one
of four
sounds
a baby
simultaneously
makes
like
not exactly
this:
stork poor radio drama)
the father
pitches himself
to a scribbling
god
whose image
left little
else
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
What is this mania of over the top
self-absorption that appears to be
running amok, this social dementia
annoying egotism, where it seems
everyone is constantly posing and
publicly auditioning for attention.
Cellphones and Social media two
of the abetting culprits, deluding
the populace that constant selfies
a star does make. Get a blog, be a
celebrity, go on TV? Self-promotion
and crass Exhibitionism has become
a vexing preoccupation. Striving for
LIKES and Followers sending and
Trending, seeking the adulations of
strangers out in the cloud that they
will never actually meet.
What happened to modesty, or
self-restraint? Have we all lost
our minds? When did being an
average normal well-adjusted
human become not enough.
When did humility become
undesirably passe? Are we all
truly that insecure?
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 4:35 PM UTC
( or ,
the illusion of luv )
• •
• •
You know
I guess that what I am trying to ask is
Something like :
2 people meet
It's a wonderful thing
BUT THEN
EVERY ******* EVENT !
EVERY ******* EMOTION !
EVERY ******* THOUGHT OR FEELING
GETS
ANALYSED !
LABELED !
ACCEPTED OR REJECTED !
AND THEN COMES THE UNBELIEVABLY
FALSE **** ABOUT
BEING LEFT !
BEGGING / PLEASE COME BACK !
THE / I' M BROKEN / HORSESHIT !
||||
Like you're in some tv reality show
Playing to an audience
In the rom / com genre
Of perpetual immaturity
AND YOU ACTUALLY COMPETE TO SEE
WHO IS BETTER AT WRITING THIS CRAP !
instead of just
Meeting
Getting to know each other
Knowing each other's lives
Families
Friends
Exploring your own perspective
Of life
Trying to understand someone else's
Practicing to be patient
Generous
Kind
•
Instead of acting like
Zombie robots auditioning for the part
Of ******* demon from hell
••
It IS baffling
//
And a bit ugly
Watching you die
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Are you Houdini?
Captivating illusionist
Superior performer
Dramatic entertainer
You caught my eyes
Held my gaze
I couldn't look away
My souls caught on fire
Round of applause to you
A bitter solace
You occupied my mind
And here I am, trying out my luck, fingers crossed
Auditioning for a role in your life
When you have another woman auditioning for my role
You are a silence, begged to be understood
You are a whole new galaxy, waiting to be named
You are a field of dandelions, filled with a hundred wishes
You are a sun, burning bright deep abyss my gloomy core
You are a chaos in your own mind, but still
You dwell in mine, tranquilly
You left your traces, my heart is now a stained glass
You took it all and left the tattered remnants to me
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
you asked for 15 minutes
to play with clear glass marbles
and grieve in it;
but instead twirled with dragons
in a clever patchwork and
a rodeo in your bandwagon.
light killed you on a crucifix
auditioning to give your spirit a lift;
started it all when you were six.
rented a loft to store your tears
hide hair ribbons in nail holes
that have been dead for thirty years.
you wanted to release hammers between sets
but you were stuck making french fries in coffee shops
and you hadn't told your husband yet.
now the clock reads eight and you're on your knees,
praying to saint margaret,
begging her to cut your cheek.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
flush east finchley commuter toilet - vile pic included below 25.10.18
thank you for providing
need one in every town
for sure would drop a few for sliding
categorically as always in kentish brown.
not sure if its got a sprinkler
2018 should have all mod cons
what will cover my henry winkler
to young poetry addicts google the fonz.
where goes the smell
i suppose full on air conditioning
can not see no pipes for swell
this bog has hidden features auditioning.
gold bog and not least
all commuters lining up actually
if george was here he would head east
LA toilets are open in finchley.
https://ibb.co/e1edJA
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC