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Zoe Mae Dec 2018
A spotlight follows

Wherever I go

But It darkens my path

Instead of making it

Glow
Aj Jul 2018
and now the song is over. it fades into the background as it fades out completely and now it's just me in the spotlight. dancing with my arms and stepping with my legs, i can still feel the rhythm in my veins. i said the music stopped, but don't believe everything you hear, you see, because i believed it too. and for a moment, i stood quiet. i stayed that way until another beat arrived, which happened to be the best beat of all—the ever-slowing tempo of my heartbeat. it was thumping and bumping loudly from where my ribs kept it in place. i didn't want it running away like my feet were or flying into the air like my arms.

i’m keeping it a wild kind of classy and in time with my sweet pulse still bump-bumping away, and i didn't complain as my heart kept going, continuing it's work as the foundation of the slow and reckless melody that my head created for the time being. i won't remember this song tomorrow.

my toes are tapping and my fingers are snapping and my smile shines as i feel a howl coming along. i dance in my lonely with sounds trapped inside my body—these noises were something that i decided to make, and i swing as i feel my newfound freedom uplift me. i reach this high. i dance in circles. i touch the sky. i kiss the atmosphere, hold a star, make a wish.

"i hope this happiness never ends."

and still, it hasn't.
it's a party of the heart.
Tristan Brown Oct 2018
Man quiets his voice
Silence's spotlight open
Nature grabs it quick
on the spotlight
being removed
a glumness did dwell
within him
newer stars were capturing
every bit of luminescence
deep inside he felt
a bygone florescence

only those of enduring
fame
will ever keep alight
the everlasting flame
he knew not of how fleeting
kudos can be
one minute it is with you
then it can curiously flee

to-day he sits
in a gloomy shade
contemplating on an
unlit glade
King Panda Oct 2015
this is a medical emergency ossified
in utero part the hair to cover
pink earwax scar innervated this
cochlea this ******* that steals
the spotlight and rooster’s comb
braised sockets for teeth wired through
the rafters kissing corner braces
shallow chromium double-eye poke
like a pile of face bones stacked
paul bunyan forest slide and jump from
the peak to the pool shallow and
undisturbed to dunk your face and
see future pure voodoo spirit board
and voice box locked with tongue-ectomy
removal of cough through neck hole
cardboard cut stickers in half to
write ******, I’m done.
marla Jun 22
Apples and oranges arranged in a public square
To be thrown at those ensnared in the guillotine's mouth;
How sporting.
Daniel H Shulman Jul 2018
I waited…
Waited for the music to stop
So you would stop all your dancing.

I waited…
Waited to get your attention
While the attention was on you.

I waited…
Waited my turn to be seduced
While you seduced another man.

I waited…
Waited for the dimming spotlight
So the spotlight could shine elsewhere.

I waited…
Waited on your flirtatious kiss
While you kissed every man that night.

I waited…
Waited to partake in your lust
While my lust played me as your fool.

I waited…
Waited for the music to stop
So I could stop fantasizing.
Follow me on Instagram @insightshurt
Read my blog at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Kerri May 2015
Always  in the spotlight,
but coddled by the darkness
A bright, colorful flower
that never wanted to bloom
She pulled the sheer, black curtains
over her eyes,
welcoming the night
An arrow shooting into the Midnight moon
swallowed whole by wicked sin
Flirting with the Devil
and soaking in the evil serum
She turned her face away from
the beacon in the night
never to return again
Leaving to the world
just a ghost of a little girl
MKF Jun 2014
He walks in, khakis cuffed
Nikes laced tight.
He says, "I know hip hop is dead
But Imma revive it tonight".
He picks up the mic
While they laugh cause he's white.
He pays no mind,
Just steps into the spotlight.
Their jaws drop
When he starts to spit
They've never seen his match,
He's on that real ****.
He ran out of rhymes, he's freestylin' now
And every syllable, like a puzzle piece, fits.
There's a smile on his face now,
He knows he's legit.
He drops the mic
And walks away,
Doesn't look back
Its more impactful that way.
Everyone just stares
They don't know what to say
All they know, deep inside,
Is hip hop was reborn that day.
For Austin
kevin hamilton Feb 2018
precious patterns
filled my eyes
the bone-white reverie
of an exploding sun

petrified
in feral, nameless positions
we, the subjects, bisected
under a twinkling spotlight

the ever-burning nitrate husk
growled behind auspicious glass
exposed once and for all
a recoiling shudder
ryn Oct 2014
It's a dance
It really is
Skip and prance
Lifelong practice

Loop of songs
Never ending
Of various genres
Life is playing

There's the spotlight
World is awaiting
Pressure of eyes
Silently watching

Take your place
Assume your position
Execute with finesse
And flawless precision

Spin your pirouettes
Don't get dizzy
Maintain your poise
In this revelry

Along comes a partner
Present as a duo
The game now altered
From when you were solo

Two bodies now
Move in unison
Reciprocate and reply
Through steps made in heaven

Flighty feet
Intertwined bodies limbre
Sweet little performance
Elapsing into forever

With grace of ballet
Each other you'd catch
Intimate display
Think you've found your match

There'll come such time
Both will not be in sync
Episodes of missteps
Push you to the brink

Alone again
Or switch of partners
Find solace in groups
Still dancing for answers

Dancing with others
Much you can learn
From hip hop to the waltz
Together or in turn

Try to adapt
To different styles
Soak up all you can
May take a while

I've danced all my life
Can't say that I've mastered
Fair share of jeers
And accolades I've garnered

Always clumsy
Exceedingly awkward
Tripping and falling
Barely proceeding forward

It's just this dance
One with syncopated beats
It's just this prance
That my gait can't meet
It's just this stance
I often use as retreat
I realised in a glance
That I have...but

**two left feet
L B Nov 2016
Not the lone glory of an orange
basking in Depression’s dusk—
its fluted bowl of purple glass

Nor the fall ways of amber
Leaves burned by roadside
curling smoke’s sun-lit sash

Not tree-lined streets
rabid leaves’ raspy voices
whirling giddy in the wind—

...in none of these

But in the moments I filled with fixing
a lamp shade
painting this place
to a stern perfection

...I thought of you
ordering the tyranny of me
the glass of me
the concrete conscience
I must be right!  Mustn’t I?

The religion of our lives
Driving through Sundays with Polkas blaring
feeding the ducks
and a roast at noon
Waffles and TV later
Lassie and You Asked For It
Wiping my mouth on a Sunday sleeve

I asked for it, alright

He came and went
to the smell of Ice Blue Aqua Velva

He came and went larger than life and first on the scene
to hurricanes, fires, muggings, and races
and of course—THE SHOP!
in an amazing array of uniforms and vehicles
Ambulances, wreckers, pickups, and police cars

He was terrifying! Wonderful!

We would love at a pained distance

His cabinet in the cellar was always locked
But now, just suppose—

if a kid were to haul on its handles...
supposedly—the sheet metal would heave and roar
with the thunder of him!

And those late nights
those harsh ****** lights
lidded hundred watt cones
in the spotlight of THERE
where I wasn’t
in the odor of oils too noxious to dare
beyond the girlish shadows—

he cleaned his guns

I waited and watched where everything seemed
to be
What...?
It seems—he just pushed her against a wall!
I step from girlhood
with my two-cents worth
and it seems I will not be Queen for a Day!

I take my vows!
I swear I will not scrape wax
from the corner of the kitchen floor with a knife!

I have waited.  I have watched
the routines of his mornings
He’s brushing his teeth; he’s combing his hair
he’s tying his shoes while he chats with the cat
I can tell you the creak of the stairs
and the sound of his footsteps rounding the house

...the routine of his return at supper
the routine of anger
My routine of being late—
and as good as dead
squeezing behind—
HIS CHAIR
Praying he wouldn’t notice the mud
Praying for the epiphany of his good mood
when the TV and me--

wouldn’t be blamed for the downfall of the nation
We were not Polish, but my Dad's French-Canadian family lived in a Polish community.  Thus, the fused culture and all the happy, Sunday Polka music.

Lassie, You Asked For It, and Queen For a Day were popular TV programs of the 1950s.
Malloh May 2018
Just a little
Tiny tiny tiny
Don't let them see
It's just a small-medium-large cut
Don't let them know
Throw out your breakfast-lunch-dinner
If they know, they'll scream
Your glass foundation will shatter
They'll leave you behind
You'll be locked away
Do you want to be alone again?
All alone in the dark?
It's quite scary isn't it,
Being alone with me
You know what you must do
Smile
Make promises
Lie
Act calm
Make up excuses
Do what you need to do
Stay out of the spotlight
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
AVOID
DON'T LET THEM SEE
IT WAS THE ONE RULE
THEY SAW
THEY SAW!
RUN
YOU MUST RUN
GET AWAY
HIDE HIDE HIDE DISAPPEAR
DON'T LET THE FIND YOU
SHRINK SHRINK SHRINK
BECOME SO SMALL THAT YOU CANNOT BE SEEN
KEEP RUNNING
YOU'RE SO CLOSE
JUST A LITTLE CLOSER
LOOK DOWN AT THE CRASHING WAVES
TAKE A DEEP BREATH
RELAX YOUR MUSCLES
J U M P


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[YES]             NO


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Name: Alec Crawford
Diagnosis: Depression. Anxiety. Violent Outbursts. Anorexia. Impulse Control Disorder.
Side Notes: Self Mutilation; Keep Patient Away From Objects Capable Of Harm. Occasional Ticks And Fidgets.
DOD: May 14, 2018.
Cause Of Death: Suicide; After Jumping Off Oceanside Cliff, Went Unconscious Upon Impact, Drowned.


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[YES]             NO


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I said to disappear, right?

Now I'll make sure they never know you even existed.
I think I'm going to continue making little character writings and have multiple parts for each character. Each part will be numbered.

Edit: I never expected this to get as popular as it did... I've been wanting to explain this one for a while now. The DOD was the most recent night that I planned to commit suicide. Instead, I made a character that was a spit image of me and let him do it instead...
Laura Trueman Apr 21
A ray bounced off
Onto me
In the night
Moon spotlight
Eni Aug 2018
As girls dream, you'd think you'd meet your perfect boy somewhere between heaven and earth or probably just at a social gathering.
He'd be the boy under the spotlight shining brighter than sun itself or the one your friends would interduce you to each-other as the perfect fit and soon a love so easy at first sight would sparkle between your souls like you're really made for each other, for a sec it'd make you think you're celebrating NYE but this time the sparkles and the butterflies in your stomach are forever cause he is real and everything you could ever want.

But maybe you aren't attending the party and you will never notice the guy under the spotlight cause you never  believed that it'd be so easy and always thought  butterflies are overrated  and sparkles way too magical and you would rather settle for temporary lust and not never ending love.
Diana Sep 2018
I want a relationship
That's anything but typical
One that defies cliches
And the definition of spontaneous

I want to be so in tune with another
To the point where it feels
As though a piece of me
Has crawled its way into him
Permanently

I want a relationship
That takes a detour from anything
Stereotypical
Such as dinner and a movie for a first date
To thrift store shopping
In the streets of Seattle
At dusk
While ending the night
At a warm cozy cafe
Situated on a quiet corner
In the shadows of the city
Where poetry is either
Softly spoken
Or bitterly belted out
From within one's own soul
On a rugged beaten-up stage
With nothing but a spotlight
Mic
And wooden stool
All while we sip on tea
(Because I don't like coffee)
And reminisce on the moments
Worth remembering
That were made that day together
In between fits of laughter
While secretly dreaming
About the future ones to be made
In the comfort of our minds
As we tightly grasp our warm mugs
In front of our lips
To hide the shy smiles
That dare to make an appearance
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