"showtime" poems
#*The Arabian Sea
A sprightly sight to behold
The cascading Sunbeams veil the sea in a platinum shimmer
The gusty wind blows
Sparkling diamonds roll up on the ocean waves
The golden Sun unravels the beauty of the bejewelled Sea
The picturesque Mumbai Skyline
Gloriously, rises up in the evening Sky
The mellowed Sun ,beauteous as an orange Rose
Leisurely dips down at the horizon
The Sky cools down to Prussian blue
The stars glimmer across the sky in the dim lights
It's showtime
Bedazzled
I quietly sit and watch the magical scenes unfold*#
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC
A coffee shop afternoon can say it looms significant
In the steamer’s sweet humidity
And the idle legs pace for more
I hear the whispers of world-changers and gossip mix
Local color of a quiet little town.
Sit humble and lean, a fixture ‘till showtime
And ask lines around just we’ve they’ve been
And who they’ve seen.
There’s a poetry in the patron, come
My gaze permits and intervenes
Its narrative and scheme, in lover’s hand enweaved.
Graphite plays its frustrate part the writer
Seated far, far in a blissful nadir
Bristles in his pony tail like drawers end to no avail.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
cross-over
behind the back
simple wrist flip
34 footer drops
and I sit in awe --
having witnessed
Showtime
Magic, Kareem, Worthy
Vs.
The Parquet floor
and Larry Bird….,
the bad boys,
and the Jordan era
(both incarnations),
big Timmy in San Antonio,
and Hakeem in Houston,
Shaq and Kobe,
Kobe and Gasol,
the reign of a new king
shinning like the sun in Miami...
they all sit back
like me
mouth open
feeling a state of awe
muthafukkin Stephe Curry
……hope homeboy stays healthy,
I like bearing witness to NBA godliness –
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
Teaching high school kids the craft
Directing them in their school show
Teenagers singing just off key
With a band that's one beat slow
Holding rehearsals when the gym is free
Have you really sunk this low
Are you truly at your bottom
Or are you "Waiting for Godot"?
"YOU'RE ON IN FIFTEEN MINUTES...MR. WILSON"
Doing plays in local theater groups
With untrained amateurs on stage
You tell them all your stories
And you keep them on their page
It's not exactly where you started
Talent that you just can't gauge
Selling programs in the lobby
It's time you act your age
"TEN MINUTES TILL SHOWTIME MR. WILSON"
Touring shows around the country now
Second touring group, smaller towns
Doing revival shows of Sondheim
"Sweeney Todd " and "Send in the clowns"
Living out of an old suitcase
The countryside a sea of browns
Where you are at the local's mercy
And there's less ups than there are downs
"FIVE MINUTES TO SHOW TIME MR. WILSON"
You've made it, you're on Broadway
Starring roles are yours to choose
Where the highlights of last nights show
Are in today's reviews
Where a sold out run continues
And your name is in the news
You're an actor, and you're famous
The world is yours to lose
"SHOW TIME MR.. WILSON...ON STAGE PLEASE"
The kids are out there schlepping
working their way through the *****
singing songs sung by the Beatles
"All This and World War II"
You're just a pillar standing, sweating
As you see what you can do
You're still an actor, and you know it
You'll need a drink when this is through.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
lights flashing through the city and polluting the air,
car horns honking and people colliding with your shoulder.
billboards flashing advertisements for the crowds below:
‘get a coke! stop by olive garden! try this phone service!’
and surrounding those screens, posters for the theater.
wicked, lion king, hamilton, and more
go to west 46th street and fight the crowd,
feel the excitement, hear the orchestra, touch the souvenirs,
let even a native new yorker become a tourist for one day
take your seat, admire the view, take some pictures,
listen to the ushers, watch the crowd settle, straighten as the lights dim.
everyone in places--it’s showtime.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
Find us idling our time away in the twilight of a movie theatre projector,
Intertwining, intermingling, interlocking..down to the matched rhythm of breaths with her...
Criss cross them thighs to my Lap and let me caress up till I feel that knee becoming hip bone
Its been months since I felt all the sensations of a man lost in what some would call the zone
Lost in the coy smile in hands pushed back from pleasure just to be returned seconds later
Back to spots felt even stronger that a wait's made even better
Bitten lips never tasting more full, bitten lips bitten softer,
Lips just ripe for this mood and both best savored....
We just cant help ourselves when months of affections been saved
As i feel through our months of basic training till your legs tighten and beg
Pulling my body closer to yours, closer to the temptations you fight to conceal
Your eyes closing to the theatre around us to begin playing fantasies, for now, you just feel...
Grip tight baby and love loose...
Were just adding up our reasons and dividing the excuses to always equal youth
Come, rest in the pleasure of friction and fingers hidden in the dark,
Guilty by unsanctioned military pleasures, innocent by young hearts....
How much can two people fit between a showtime and credits
Would some say just a body that next weekend comes with seconds
Or others perhaps poems formatted inside those racing pulses
Count one butterflies count two everything off body language and impulse
An ecstasy that finds us spent and content when lights flicker back on
To then look into each other eyes and stare soft and stare long
To then hold the very hands that etched passion in every last valley of our bodies,
To then, just ever casually walk to the smell of popcorn, and the light of the lobby...
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
Mississippi, let the good times ramble
Biloxi, and Jackson
Flag raised high
Passion,
Tupelo rocking and roar
Hattiesburg for a show tonight
With my wife
My girl
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
I've seen more *** scenes
On Showtime
Than I have ever watched ****
And I picture your lips
When they kiss
And her body
On top of yours
And there is nothing ******
About pretending
That you are inside her
Or that she is in you
In every way
That I couldn't be
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
broken souls slump against battered brick walls
the avenue drowning in cheap perfume
drawing in the tired
slick pavement melts the neon lights, bathing the cold street in red reflections
she puffs on a cigarette
smoke clearing her head as it fills her lungs
her lips taste are made of whiskey and a million well kept secrets
her smile never reveals too much
but she has learned not to be afraid
she has learned to keep her head up
she sighs and straightens her back
it’s showtime
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 10:31 AM UTC
I turn to the dark,
welcome back home.
Come one come all,
please enjoy the show.
We're clear for takeoff,
no more worries around.
Lose the landing gear,
I'm not comin back down.
The light's still callin,
"wait up, no don't go"
"you're not clear for takeoff,
someone cancel this show."
But its too late for me now,
done lookin for stop signs.
Maybe it was the shots that did it,
or perhaps the pills and all the lines.
Determined to find that feeling,
that I felt way back when.
That moment when everything made sense,
and all my worries seemed to end.
Fueled by pleasure,
so young and so free.
**** your long winded toast,
this next ones to me.
So hold'em up high,
lets live for this moment.
Tomorrow's not guaranteed,
but I'm gonna live like I know it.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
Pretending--Preventing
A peek behind the curtain:
I've tightened the rope
I've split up the track
And hold steadfast the ends (no slack)
Spinning above, mid-air like some antisocial acrobat
I've learned the words
I've carved the face
To only read smile
While the rest seem to float
All show
No rope, though
that could be an act--as well--
c
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 10:35 AM UTC
Touch every part of my body
Make my lips bleed red wine
Make love to me by dawn
Like it were the first time...
Cut your teeth into my skin
And keep the secret of mine
Love me until we burn to ashes
like it were the last time...
Put your hands ‘round my hips
My bum’ll start the showtime
Take me fully, be ‘n me like eclipse
And tell me, “You’re forever mine...”
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC
The sun takes her place
Nature's actors prep their lines
Songs ring out showtime
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 11:13 AM UTC
I am a princess.
You pay for my time and ask for nothing in return.
I sit and stare at all the people dancing.
I'm pretty next to you.
I am a princess.
Some dance, some don't.
They just want to talk .
They just need someone to show off.
Some twirl me and guide my step.
Others just stare "all you can eat buffet"
Pretty girls, sad lives.
That's my story.
Getting pretty to be called on.
And once they call its showtime.
I am a princess in that club.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
i fumble around in darkness, even during the day
and my faint memory of this place helps me none.
i ask "why did you leave me?"
and you reply the same as always - silence
so i stumble through life feeling for the familiar
nothing ever seems right with out you
pleasantly, you appear to me during dreams yet filling my mind of agony
i grasp a hold onto you every time,
so how is it that i awake from sleep and you still aren't here with me
life seems as if its the Armageddon, because with everyday
my spirit goes astray,
i hear its abandoning footsteps down the hall
like timed grenades synchronized to the beat of my heart.
and yet i feel no distress as it departs,
because see you took the one thing that completes me.
foolishly i sting my finger tips on the sockets
while caressing my way through
so i figure ill turn the tv on
even though showtime is no longer fun with out you.
and to really think about it, you made all the difference
now everything is just different with you gone.
no warning and no goodbye,
i didn't know i could still produce tears with out site
so what do the other 4 mean without number 5?
the lawn mower outside woke me up that morning,
and the grass smelt calm, i could hear so clear the birds soaring through the trees - one at a time
toothpaste never tasted so strong
and though the volume was never changed
there's even a difference in my song.
i can only feel the pictures on the walls,
and it hurts to picture them in my mind at all.
if only i could sleep until time restored you,
but its better to have loved and lost
then to not have had you.
so what is vision?
the end or the beginning?
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
to hear the music singing, an unfiltered
hum in my ears always
and want nothing else.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
.
O the trender souls who keep
Spewing their ladled ornaments,
Words even a dull, starving bird
Would not gobble, plastic pieces,
Rambles of thought, unthought,
Pretty sounding, shiny trinkets,
Merely nailed by some old book,
Or a dog eared dictionary, maybe,
Some pulpy article wherein hacks,
Dreamt with loss, sad aspirations,
These are the dug trailings of fools,
Lazy, writers who fancy themselves,
Fancying themselves, in a black mirror,
Merciful as imagination and delusion,
O how the neophyte sings without any
Voice, nor depth, nor taste, nor blood,
Conscious revels in unconsciousness,
O but lame awaits the vain, the shallow,
The self proclaimed, the peacock, but, their
Showtime is only something base, something
Not and ghost peculiar, something only a carny
Would know to mock, revile as he promotes.
How glittering are the newest word baubles,
Blathering speak to mask all faceless souls,
Twaddle, twitterings, revered by simpletons.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Flesh to cloth- Paper to flesh
Dances and lights- Showtime.
All I see is brokenness. This isn't a game.
Cheek to cheek- Head to toe
Smiles and laughter- Guises.
Money is just stuff. It will only fade away.
Hand to hand- Hand to waist.
Tension and release- Ecstasy.
Marital status counts for naught. Cash is king.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
When showtime comes the curtain will rise
You'll prepare your face with cold blue eyes
Together you're here
With the quiet and queer
And then you'll sing your own demise
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:11 AM UTC
4/5/2019
In the middle of my transgression,
That trap I’ve fallen in before,
I cry out with desperation,
And I find an open door.
Could it have been there the whole time?
When there seems to be no progression,
It seems I can’t bear it any longer.
Where is the inert deliberation?
Somehow I must ignore the anger,
But how can I find good in the grime?
All I can see: my inward aggression!
That fuse always burning shorter,
Only accomplishing obliteration.
As I make myself a martyr,
I am sacrificed for an unknown crime.
Though my face gains new expression,
New is just another word for darker.
Inward digs the outward oppression,
It must die, but never can I conquer.
Death bells don’t seem to chime.
My focus is always my impression,
I exist to make me look better.
If it were up to my discretion,
All would fall into disorder.
Does it ever end, this eternal climb?
My story now in compression,
I couldn’t resist anymore.
My biggest fears now in suppression,
The door is the way out. Therefore,
Step though, I must. It’s showtime.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is the end of all my repression!
All of me spilled on the floor!
There is no regression!
All of me, anyone can explore!
This exposed feeling is not sublime!
That open door, a misimpression?
Expectation missed, take it away, I implore!
My perspective, it doesn’t freshen,
My new life, why for it do I deplore?
Still I desire to go backwards everytime.
Is Your will bent for my depression?
Is Your love just folklore?
No! Doubt is sadly my profession,
Thank You for all that You restore,
You forgive my idiotic paradigm.
Maybe this was all to get my attention.
Though my soul feels sore,
I know I’m in a better position.
You’ve won, forget the score,
Although over time I worked overtime.
Results result from action,
What’s this all for?
Near extinction, is my confession,
But I’m no longer like that dinosaur.
I’m running out of words to rhyme.
In the end, I made the right decision,
It’s all so much more,
I’m thankful for my Implosion,
There’s less of me than before,
With you in side as my enzyme.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
a sudden Bonanza viz ****** abuse among
faux Green Acres within Mayberry RFD
now spells showtime for The Avengers, Batman
and Robin to Get Smart
take to heart (what haint no new bob bing beast),
those perpetrators to forsake their Good Times
yet, who determines what constitutes, and how to differentiate
mere kibitzing from unwanted overtures
though most people would concur when
definitive, tangible, verbal assault occurs,
spoiling future Happy Days, yet numerous incidents *** hide
from clear cut serious offences indeed)
rather when details appear nebulous, sketchy, vague,
et cetera defy categorization, giving benefit of doubt to
females or males in question claiming harrassment,
especially when minors testify as adults, asper
major gross indignties (such as pedofilia, date,
incestuous, statutory **** ******
et cetera committed), that occurred years or decades ex post facto
sans molestation, said time delayed contention
must be taken at face value without fail informing
a jury retroactive justice must be must be handed down
to the accuser blatantly, flagrantly, flaunting illegality,
hence fair sentence accordingly adjudicated
insync decreed capital crime abrogated child welfare,
defiling and permanently affecting emotional well being
of said underage youths, as best one
to compensate aggrieved subjects must purge
abominable categorical imperative
asper deliberate wanton (I soup pose), tricked, mislead,
forced to participate unwillingly
risking mental, physical and spiritual health of innocent kid
imposing unforgivable, horrible, execrable misdeeds
irrevocably damaging Lassie or laddie,
which indelibly foisted battering, whereby
even Doctor Marcys Welby M.D. unable to mend
condemning sufferer to psychological Mash pit
triggering Maude lin while Knot's Landing flooded.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
I am a composer
of poems
and a conductor
of musings,
The words,
together
a symphony of wonder
in rehearsals,
fall flat
at showtime,
but still
they sound sweet to me.
And so I dance.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
1: wake up
2: mask on
3: showtime
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 1:34 PM UTC
She walks away from the game to go contemplate ending her life.
She curls up in a ball in between the punching bag and the chair.
She can't decide how to end her life:
Slit the wrist
Overdose
Hang herself
Everything makes her brain swell.
The depression sets in:
Causing the thoughts to get darker
The urges to get higher
The intention to get deeper.
She thinks
Cancel my showtime
So she did.
She canceled her showtime
And her last words were:
"Cancel my Showtime."
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC