Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"heckler" poems
How wonderful it is, I say, to the retreating yellow form of your feelings I mistook For Infatuation, you’re a romance heckler far and far away from Accepting fruition within classrooms and being labelled as an angel. And it was within forbidden hell of euphoria, I found You nestled in the society’s psyche neither content or calling For help. Neither did you neglect the pink spectacles of the society, Even found yourself moulding and moulding into a fungi green That I could not recognize, within that half-sanctum, half-oasis I found you absentmindedly Bathing in, you were already out of its waters. And I was no longer seeing you within the dry desert or the sibilance of my desires, but instead in cement woodlands and Within artificial communication and Intimacy I gave willingly. Now how does it feel, to have your heart in one piece, How does it feel to not use whipped cream to fill in the Cracked, salty sections of your own ***** that, Out of confusion, continues to play its favorite song but in all the wrong beats. Somehow within cacophony I found you, nestled, comfortable in Bogus, fraudulent wings of a former angel- who now weeps under our Feet in theory- Somehow, somewhere, I lost you within an epiphany That reeked of bliss and pleasure- Somehow, we end up losing Twins of the heavens when all is well. How wonderful. How wonderful it is, I say, to your lost, secretly-weeping figure That I can’t tell whether transparent or yellow your figure is. But I keep speaking- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To love the first angel I’ve set my eyes upon- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To lose an angel, no matter how phoney, to a social heaven.” - enriko. aug 5. 11:45pm
0
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
Empty Residence Of Aforementioned Angel In Training
How wonderful it is, I say, to the retreating yellow form of your feelings I mistook For Infatuation, you’re a romance heckler far and far away from Accepting fruition within classrooms and being labelled as an angel. And it was within forbidden hell of euphoria, I found You nestled in the society’s psyche neither content or calling For help. Neither did you neglect the pink spectacles of the society, Even found yourself moulding and moulding into a fungi green That I could not recognize, within that half-sanctum, half-oasis I found you absentmindedly Bathing in, you were already out of its waters. And I was no longer seeing you within the dry desert or the sibilance of my desires, but instead in cement woodlands and Within artificial communication and Intimacy I gave willingly. Now how does it feel, to have your heart in one piece, How does it feel to not use whipped cream to fill in the Cracked, salty sections of your own ***** that, Out of confusion, continues to play its favorite song but in all the wrong beats. Somehow within cacophony I found you, nestled, comfortable in Bogus, fraudulent wings of a former angel- who now weeps under our Feet in theory- Somehow, somewhere, I lost you within an epiphany That reeked of bliss and pleasure- Somehow, we end up losing Twins of the heavens when all is well. How wonderful. How wonderful it is, I say, to your lost, secretly-weeping figure That I can’t tell whether transparent or yellow your figure is. But I keep speaking- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To love the first angel I’ve set my eyes upon- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To lose an angel, no matter how phoney, to a social heaven.” - enriko. aug 5. 11:45pm
Continue reading...
56
you are the heckler in the crowd trying to rip out the rug from beneath my toes silent was the treatment firm was my resolve indifference between books, tables, & legs. it lasted until the viewing party preening, fresh dye, a new luster to your slick, sheared visage you smile & draw a little bit of blood it comingles with your own hot & thick, (they await with baited breath the proper demise of union that never was) & slackjawed, wide eyed, resolve dis- solved I set you on a pedestal again
0
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
mechanical pencil
She deserves recognition For her work as a technician Who's expertise is ball bustin Who majors in ******** Excelling in the field of advance Hot air production A profession heckler who Composes an orchestra conductin A firework show eruptin With colorful rants red, and purples She's acclaimed for rhetorical Questions that repeats in circles An elite linguistics scholar Who's sarcasm is an accomplishment Very talented...no gifted at making An insult sound like a compliment And Her stamina to do so Is like an Olympian who's pleased Only when her track and field Meet of slander makes ur ears bleed A masters degree in belittling A graduated philosopher for the bitter Must be a psychologist the way She attacks my sanity to litter Insecurities, and doubts and I Heard she has a phd in hypnosis Until u start to believe her ******** And this psychosomatic is ur psychosis A world class magician who's Tricks leave u perplexed in thought A novelist who narrates to taunt Controlling all characters and plot She wrote the book on torturing A man and emasculating him so He may never move forward and She was in the military I'm told Historically known for her intellectual Warfare Manipulating soilders and utilizing The grounds to ambush u there A social tyrant who's brilliant Political ties help her achieve Her plan like constituents are Biased so they're all after me A paralegal who's unfair and lethal And to her it's titalation Unfair is her terms but like a Perm ull get burned in litagation A degree in early childhood Education so she acts like a rebel Perfecting being childish and Unaffected by ur feelings on levels Only a schoolyard bully could Match, she's my jailhouse warden Who's power is focused on me Relentlessly constructing like a foreman With Her future blueprints to See what the hell she builds for me Will look like, and she's also a director In the *********** industry So she tells in great detail Just how I'll be ****** She must have been taught by Peter pan how to never grow up Trained as medic who specializes In one area over them all Nudering human males So surgically she removes my ***** After she breaks them and So I am the constant fool This exceptional jack of trades Makes me wish that I stayed in school
0
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
Shes A Jack Of All Trades..And i love her....
She deserves recognition For her work as a technician Who's expertise is ball bustin Who majors in ******** Excelling in the field of advance Hot air production A profession heckler who Composes an orchestra conductin A firework show eruptin With colorful rants red, and purples She's acclaimed for rhetorical Questions that repeats in circles An elite linguistics scholar Who's sarcasm is an accomplishment Very talented...no gifted at making An insult sound like a compliment And Her stamina to do so Is like an Olympian who's pleased Only when her track and field Meet of slander makes ur ears bleed A masters degree in belittling A graduated philosopher for the bitter Must be a psychologist the way She attacks my sanity to litter Insecurities, and doubts and I Heard she has a phd in hypnosis Until u start to believe her ******** And this psychosomatic is ur psychosis A world class magician who's Tricks leave u perplexed in thought A novelist who narrates to taunt Controlling all characters and plot She wrote the book on torturing A man and emasculating him so He may never move forward and She was in the military I'm told Historically known for her intellectual Warfare Manipulating soilders and utilizing The grounds to ambush u there A social tyrant who's brilliant Political ties help her achieve Her plan like constituents are Biased so they're all after me A paralegal who's unfair and lethal And to her it's titalation Unfair is her terms but like a Perm ull get burned in litagation A degree in early childhood Education so she acts like a rebel Perfecting being childish and Unaffected by ur feelings on levels Only a schoolyard bully could Match, she's my jailhouse warden Who's power is focused on me Relentlessly constructing like a foreman With Her future blueprints to See what the hell she builds for me Will look like, and she's also a director In the *********** industry So she tells in great detail Just how I'll be ****** She must have been taught by Peter pan how to never grow up Trained as medic who specializes In one area over them all Nudering human males So surgically she removes my ***** After she breaks them and So I am the constant fool This exceptional jack of trades Makes me wish that I stayed in school
Continue reading...
72
assembly point first floor second floor P $1.00 per hour third floor others panelbeaters paint division spies heckler automotive no thoroughfare flooring centre - "fashion for your floor" kitchen things relocation sale plumbing laser - "totally dependable" Stop! convictions end careers science /three /fire /wardens /tally /board design + garden landscapes All violators will be towed at owners expense (doorway in constant use) National mortgage and agency (coy of nz ltd) "manufactures of quality soft furnishings" inward goods -> ABSOLUTELY nothing to be left outside of "floor" at all times (community probation service) "salsa moves New Zealand" Ice cold pacific fish shop Inward outward goods (Clearance 3.1 metres) <-chapel office-> hot pies fish and chips burgers milkshakes ice cream fried chicken STOP (funeral services limited) full system fabrications: - "free quotes!" hand painted / illuminated The art of refinishing; Leaders in worldwide approval&nbsp
0
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
walk
to stay young in your heart you first should have one and you better fill it up with some love just a bit because love is the secret ingredient the pursuit of justice without love makes you cruel the pursuit of truth without love makes you a heckler the pursuit of god without love makes you a bigot the pursuit of beauty without love makes you Humbert Humbert power without love makes you a tyrant honor without love makes you arrogant wit without love makes you cunning work without love makes you tired care without love makes you brusque talk without love makes you annoying seriousness without love makes you boring tenderness without love makes you mawkish friendliness without love makes you fake so you better spice things up with some love just a bit
0
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
Untitled
I don't lock glocks An' I don't ride with a nine I don't pack Heckler and Koch But when I step over the line I'm packin' more heat than a Navy Seal I got both hands free Because I gave up the wheel I got my arms stretched out So I can seal the deal He had his life snuffed out So He could finally heal Us The killers and the accomplice When He said "it's finished" His plan was accomplished His face beat and anguished The Devil thought he'd vanquished The One by whom he was banished But he must've been astonished When the only Lamb unblemished Made good on His promise That was given to the Psalmist Death had been demolished Its power was abolished Humanity refurbished He suffered because He cherished The impoverished and the ravished Malnourished and the famished So I pack heat, but it's a different kind entirely Not a weapon, not of man that is I cary knowledge, that His spirit lives inside of me I cary peace, in the knowledge that I'm his
0
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Heat
I walk down the street whisked by the fragrant aroma of a ***** floating above the clouds Encased in venom but dismantled plumes of disembodied hair gave her a shroud I saw in her minced reflection the swindled lust of a happy conclusion To years of isolated rebarbative delusion To serenade with penultimate swaggers as though I have been fully swooned Too soon to aim my praise at an adoring moon Tugging on mutual hearts entwined with the summer breeze Trying to garner the summer heir and the summer flair A panache to clothe every armed bear, disarmed by a propitiated care A crisp lament crashes the party as a heckler gouging for blindness I clinch a ****** anger as a riotous engine crafted from wineskins Belonging to an ageless agelast scurried in dismay I warp the warbled marble sleet a craven disarray Then I clamber, risqué in fleeting moments a criminal repartee I wallop the emerging consensus as the 16th hands me over dumped tea And a ****** tree laughs as the whitewashed sanity of sanitarium ****** I swerve away from the indecency of a pepper enclosed in chosen wax A gibbous shackle crumpled on a concrete semaphore An erratic blithe minatory metaphor Saturnine clout sweeps the dusty apron from the desuetude of homespun lethargy Rampant clovers distilled from a dreamscape a raspy sea Trespassing whisper surmounts the lambent alpenglow of a newborn sun A sleek potter’s spell encumbered by a lapsed pun Doors ajar and vats wed with an aimless spar I finally see the fullness of majesty adorned as a breathing star.
0
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
Moonshine Tide
I walk down the street whisked by the fragrant aroma of a ***** floating above the clouds Encased in venom but dismantled plumes of disembodied hair gave her a shroud I saw in her minced reflection the swindled lust of a happy conclusion To years of isolated rebarbative delusion To serenade with penultimate swaggers as though I have been fully swooned Too soon to aim my praise at an adoring moon Tugging on mutual hearts entwined with the summer breeze Trying to garner the summer heir and the summer flair A panache to clothe every armed bear, disarmed by a propitiated care A crisp lament crashes the party as a heckler gouging for blindness I clinch a ****** anger as a riotous engine crafted from wineskins Belonging to an ageless agelast scurried in dismay I warp the warbled marble sleet a craven disarray Then I clamber, risqué in fleeting moments a criminal repartee I wallop the emerging consensus as the 16th hands me over dumped tea And a ****** tree laughs as the whitewashed sanity of sanitarium ****** I swerve away from the indecency of a pepper enclosed in chosen wax A gibbous shackle crumpled on a concrete semaphore An erratic blithe minatory metaphor Saturnine clout sweeps the dusty apron from the desuetude of homespun lethargy Rampant clovers distilled from a dreamscape a raspy sea Trespassing whisper surmounts the lambent alpenglow of a newborn sun A sleek potter’s spell encumbered by a lapsed pun Doors ajar and vats wed with an aimless spar I finally see the fullness of majesty adorned as a breathing star.
Continue reading...
25
after enough charred inhaling and stuttered swallowing and after the invincibility of the act evaporates your biceps begins to sag and your mind stops moving it’s you suddenly find yourself hovering through the days and time is subjective and all things are subjective and so what if you don’t do that because everything’s just particles in your brain slapping against one another to make the flickering pictures of this world and then once every few days you shake your head and stand up and say I’m gonna do something! but keep the same diet and revert to the same state of synthetic zen-like denial. you sit on a silent conveyer belt as hours pass and things happen around you but you see them through a lens a film onscreen, pleasurably cathartic, but your soul’s still in the theater watching from a stained, sticky seat some dimensions away and the heckler’s behind you won’t shut up and they keep you from focusing on the movie itself and your peripheral vision becomes distinct and you find yourself aware of the speakers and exit signs and the slight dust and film grains splashing in front of your view and you think of this as an ephiphany instead of Brechtian distanciation at its most curdling. then your brain starts feeling like a frisbee and your body is the monkey in the middle trying to grab at it but it tires out and the bullies run away with it and your left with a black hole in the head laying in complacency in front of a shimmering cube sounds and images with no correlation or relevance pondering your higher knowledge of all things around it, around you and giggling to the echoing cobwebbed corners of the room about the ignorance of those not privileged to the same diet.
0
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 11:23 PM UTC
to overdiet
after enough charred inhaling and stuttered swallowing and after the invincibility of the act evaporates your biceps begins to sag and your mind stops moving it’s you suddenly find yourself hovering through the days and time is subjective and all things are subjective and so what if you don’t do that because everything’s just particles in your brain slapping against one another to make the flickering pictures of this world and then once every few days you shake your head and stand up and say I’m gonna do something! but keep the same diet and revert to the same state of synthetic zen-like denial. you sit on a silent conveyer belt as hours pass and things happen around you but you see them through a lens a film onscreen, pleasurably cathartic, but your soul’s still in the theater watching from a stained, sticky seat some dimensions away and the heckler’s behind you won’t shut up and they keep you from focusing on the movie itself and your peripheral vision becomes distinct and you find yourself aware of the speakers and exit signs and the slight dust and film grains splashing in front of your view and you think of this as an ephiphany instead of Brechtian distanciation at its most curdling. then your brain starts feeling like a frisbee and your body is the monkey in the middle trying to grab at it but it tires out and the bullies run away with it and your left with a black hole in the head laying in complacency in front of a shimmering cube sounds and images with no correlation or relevance pondering your higher knowledge of all things around it, around you and giggling to the echoing cobwebbed corners of the room about the ignorance of those not privileged to the same diet.
Continue reading...
31
NAMANNAGARHERE ----------------------------------- Empty Residence Of Aforementioned Angel In Training How wonderful it is, I say, to the retreating yellow form of your feelings I mistook For Infatuation, you’re a romance heckler far and far away from Accepting fruition within classrooms and being labelled as an angel. And it was within forbidden hell of euphoria, I found You nestled in the society’s psyche neither content or calling For help. Neither did you neglect the pink spectacles of the society, Even found yourself moulding and moulding into a fungi green That I could not recognize, within that half-sanctum, half-oasis I found you absentmindedly Bathing in, you were already out of its waters. And I was no longer seeing you within the dry desert or the sibilance of my desires, but instead in cement woodlands and Within artificial communication and Intimacy I gave willingly. Now how does it feel, to have your heart in one piece, How does it feel to not use whipped cream to fill in the Cracked, salty sections of your own ***** that, Out of confusion, continues to play its favorite song but in all the wrong beats. Somehow within cacophony I found you, nestled, comfortable in Bogus, fraudulent wings of a former angel- who now weeps under our Feet in theory- Somehow, somewhere, I lost you within an epiphany That reeked of bliss and pleasure- Somehow, we end up losing Twins of the heavens when all is well. How wonderful. How wonderful it is, I say, to your lost, secretly-weeping figure That I can’t tell whether transparent or yellow your figure is. But I keep speaking- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To love the first angel I’ve set my eyes upon- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To lose an angel, no matter how phoney, to a social heaven.”
0
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
EMPTY TRAINING
NAMANNAGARHERE ----------------------------------- Empty Residence Of Aforementioned Angel In Training How wonderful it is, I say, to the retreating yellow form of your feelings I mistook For Infatuation, you’re a romance heckler far and far away from Accepting fruition within classrooms and being labelled as an angel. And it was within forbidden hell of euphoria, I found You nestled in the society’s psyche neither content or calling For help. Neither did you neglect the pink spectacles of the society, Even found yourself moulding and moulding into a fungi green That I could not recognize, within that half-sanctum, half-oasis I found you absentmindedly Bathing in, you were already out of its waters. And I was no longer seeing you within the dry desert or the sibilance of my desires, but instead in cement woodlands and Within artificial communication and Intimacy I gave willingly. Now how does it feel, to have your heart in one piece, How does it feel to not use whipped cream to fill in the Cracked, salty sections of your own ***** that, Out of confusion, continues to play its favorite song but in all the wrong beats. Somehow within cacophony I found you, nestled, comfortable in Bogus, fraudulent wings of a former angel- who now weeps under our Feet in theory- Somehow, somewhere, I lost you within an epiphany That reeked of bliss and pleasure- Somehow, we end up losing Twins of the heavens when all is well. How wonderful. How wonderful it is, I say, to your lost, secretly-weeping figure That I can’t tell whether transparent or yellow your figure is. But I keep speaking- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To love the first angel I’ve set my eyes upon- “Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is- To lose an angel, no matter how phoney, to a social heaven.”
Continue reading...
58
Alone in between the right and the wrongs, Left, alone in this place of darkness and stone, Below, I belong with the other things left undone, Unravelled ingenuity becomes, Anonymous animosity, Misogynous monstrosity, Disingenuous duopoly, Synonymous, settling finally, with simple simplicity, Not original nor profound, There’s already been every sound, Footprints on supposed unhallowed ground, And yet we still dig down, Down, down into the depths to find, The simple thing that is only mine, Simple thing, Simple things are not what they seem, Easy to say, but hard to mean, Simple things are only so in dreams, And probably already passim, It is really nothing, in fact dead, Everything worth saying has already been said, And repeated again and again, And again we try to abstain, Refrain from replacing by accident, Disdain and heckler’s haughty contempt, You were there, You were where I did not dare, Unprepared for the lies and despair, Unaware of the incompatible compared, The undemanding and the complicated, Down in the dark I stand illuminated, Concentrated, concentrated and fully fabricated, Automated someone manufactured whilst isolated, Looking for the simple thing to make it all make sense, Become alone and lost in a fog of thoughts too dense, Why do you never drive me far? Because you’re really not my friends, So do I either throw caution out the car? Or do I drive you round the bend?
0
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Simple Thing
I’m a performing circus bear Traveling the world with my master Who treats me as an equal So we are comfortable companions And make an amazing team Performing spectacular shows for rabid audiences Who don’t appreciate our effort They try to antagonize and diminish us But we remain stoic Until today A heckler grabs my ear My feral nature gets the best of me So I snap at them I instantly realize my mistake And so does my master He shakes his head and walks away Leaving me heartbroken Without my only friend and protector My overwhelming regret and sorrow make no difference I’m reminded of where I stand with humans As they euthanize me
0
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
Feral
' *faceless number  screen flicker  thermal print out  fades in summer walk the line  find some time  primal scream  stuccoed spring  mudprint carpet  trigger finger  curdled milk  forgotten winter  stadium heckler  prison clatter  barred existence  cushions the fall* ____________✒ ○● °
0
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
seasonal random
The movies we watch You know the ones where we cry, dream of bonds of dads and their sons of mothers and daughters of old flames and laughter It makes us feel better A tear to the eye A scene hits home we pretend its hay-fever or tirdeness wiping without being noticed or at least trying without pulling it off for 105 minutes we are in a trance not addicts or failures,not alone nor poor We are away We dream it's us up there We dream we can change Be the hero just emotion i can do it , i'm sure we can be rich, we can succeed we can be blessed there is reprieve , there is a hope there is a glimmer oh no its the credits , i cant deliver i cannot win i cannot love i'm not a saviour yes I'm stuck no happy ending no big weddings no straights A's that's story telling we are the film we are the director producer the hater the critic the heckler we can make amends we will be better we will be the  movie and live happy after
0
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
movies
In Front of This Crowd This is it. I’m up Here I go in front of this crowd As I'm prepared to pull the best performance of my life and distract myself from the fact that my lunch is about to leave my stomach! Wait… Did… My stomach just rumble? Did my… mic just catch that?? Great… Not my best first impression.... I try to recover as quickly and swiftly and smoothly as possible But I'm back to fumbling and stuttering and I drop… my… notebook. GREAT! I sneak a peek at the crowd and I see some snickering. Some impatient stares, half of them even mixed with anger. Some gave a sympathetic nod to continue I stammer a quick apology and continue introductions All the while thinking “This is just the introduction…” As I clear my throat some more, I hear a couple of hecklers boo me. I even hear one say “Either get on with it or GET OFF THE STAGE!” Another member of the crowd shushes the heckler, “Give him a chance! You might upset him!” But it was too late. I'm not sure what clicked within me, but something ignited within me. Something that makes me want to prove the hecklers wrong. No. To shut them up! Next thing I knew? I close my eyes, Took a breath Looked at my notebook And spoke. And I continued to speak and read aloud the scribbles in my notebook that only I understand. Words that slip out of my mouth like a thief in the night! Suddenly, the crowd wasn't there anymore It was just me Me and my reflection The same reflection who is my biggest fan and my biggest critic. The same reflection whom I practiced with day and night. Yes, that same reflection that I stare into since as far as I remember! Yes. That reflection,  whom I nodded to in confidence and who nods back as to say “you got this.” And the words continue to spill The crowd suddenly filled with ooh’s and aah’s. I’m back on earth Back In front of this crowd But I continue to speak Speak with hurt, heartache, joy, pain, laughter, tears, inspirations and frustrations that has been haunting me my whole life I continue to speak Despite the fact I'm nervous I continue to speak. Despite the fact that there are butterflies bumping uglies in my stomach. (Which, by the way, I would highly appreciate if they stop that.) I continue to speak! I continue to speak for the most painful, grueling,agonizing, longest 3 minutes of my life! And then I'm finished. I finish speaking as I take a leek back to the crowd Some speechless. Some have their mouths wide open in awe Some are even smiling. And then the crowd applause I stare in awe of what just happened. What I just done in front of this crowd. And then I snap out of it And quickly blurt out “Thank you! Be sure to follow me on Instagram at writingsilhouette! That’s W R I T I N G S I L H O U E T T E at instagram! BYE!” By: Curtis “Sillo” Jones
0
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC
In Front of This Crowd
In Front of This Crowd This is it. I’m up Here I go in front of this crowd As I'm prepared to pull the best performance of my life and distract myself from the fact that my lunch is about to leave my stomach! Wait… Did… My stomach just rumble? Did my… mic just catch that?? Great… Not my best first impression.... I try to recover as quickly and swiftly and smoothly as possible But I'm back to fumbling and stuttering and I drop… my… notebook. GREAT! I sneak a peek at the crowd and I see some snickering. Some impatient stares, half of them even mixed with anger. Some gave a sympathetic nod to continue I stammer a quick apology and continue introductions All the while thinking “This is just the introduction…” As I clear my throat some more, I hear a couple of hecklers boo me. I even hear one say “Either get on with it or GET OFF THE STAGE!” Another member of the crowd shushes the heckler, “Give him a chance! You might upset him!” But it was too late. I'm not sure what clicked within me, but something ignited within me. Something that makes me want to prove the hecklers wrong. No. To shut them up! Next thing I knew? I close my eyes, Took a breath Looked at my notebook And spoke. And I continued to speak and read aloud the scribbles in my notebook that only I understand. Words that slip out of my mouth like a thief in the night! Suddenly, the crowd wasn't there anymore It was just me Me and my reflection The same reflection who is my biggest fan and my biggest critic. The same reflection whom I practiced with day and night. Yes, that same reflection that I stare into since as far as I remember! Yes. That reflection,  whom I nodded to in confidence and who nods back as to say “you got this.” And the words continue to spill The crowd suddenly filled with ooh’s and aah’s. I’m back on earth Back In front of this crowd But I continue to speak Speak with hurt, heartache, joy, pain, laughter, tears, inspirations and frustrations that has been haunting me my whole life I continue to speak Despite the fact I'm nervous I continue to speak. Despite the fact that there are butterflies bumping uglies in my stomach. (Which, by the way, I would highly appreciate if they stop that.) I continue to speak! I continue to speak for the most painful, grueling,agonizing, longest 3 minutes of my life! And then I'm finished. I finish speaking as I take a leek back to the crowd Some speechless. Some have their mouths wide open in awe Some are even smiling. And then the crowd applause I stare in awe of what just happened. What I just done in front of this crowd. And then I snap out of it And quickly blurt out “Thank you! Be sure to follow me on Instagram at writingsilhouette! That’s W R I T I N G S I L H O U E T T E at instagram! BYE!” By: Curtis “Sillo” Jones
Continue reading...
63