Tag Archives: audience

Know Thyself

I’m calling you from the future
To let you know we made a mistake
And there’s a fog from the past
That’s giving me, giving me such a headache
And I’m back with a madness…

~*~

When I reevaluate myself

Where do I start to draw the line

Between the beginning and the change

Down my brain or with my spine?

.

When did my hands start shifting

To change pure gold into black rust

And lucidity became obstinate

Covering the mirrors with cold dust?

.

What place was my starting line

And when did I stumble and trip?

Did I get to the checkered finish

Or trampled by my opponents’ feet?

.

Why did my pen become cynical

And my heart run out of honest ink

How did my eyes fail to see the picture

When did my mind cease to think?

.

Have I truly changed for the better

Or did I just become a stranger shape

From fitting out of the cramped box

Because I wished for a little more space?

.

Did I drift away from my audience

As their applause started to sound the same

Was I meant for a moment in spotlights

Or was I meant to hide away my own name?

.

Were these lines on my face here before

Or the lines on my arms and thighs?

And the lines I once thought avant-garde

Are they now nothing but banal lies?

.

And why did my tongue get longer

But the accuracy in their wings clipped

Confusion may soar abound the sky

But my heavy body refuses to lift

.

Regrets and problems, I once could carry

Have broken my back and my will to be

The things I loved, reduced to wistful smiles

Memories once happy turned sorry

.

I wish I didn’t sulk and drain myself

Turn off the lights just to be haunted by ghosts

I fucking wish I didn’t have to be so insecure

To let emotions linger like a gracious host

.

Sometimes I think I really know myself

Until everyone says the complete opposite

And everything I do turns upsidedown

I become less uncertain of my purposeful visit

.

Just who was I? Or rather, just who am I now?

When I reassess, all I do is think and rethink again

It hurts my head, and I’ll just start to lose myself

Better to keep the present than to bury myself in past skins.

~*~

I got rage every day, on the inside
The only thing I do is sit around and kill time
I’m trying to blow out the pilot light
I’m trying to blow out the light
I’m just young enough to still believe, still believe
But young enough not to know what to believe in…

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Does The City Sleep If Everyone’s Awake?

Drop every pretense, drown every sense you own
For the girl that you love, girl you loathe
Insistent pretext, so what does that make god?
To the girl that you love, girl you loathe…

~*~

Follow home the darkness in the midst of distorted lies

A bellicose pretence that overshadows the most jaded of eyes

Entering, surrendering the only control left to be held back

Indignant morose affability surreptitiously painted black

.

For the girl that you love left her heart in the shadows

She’s keeping it there locked tight and burning the evidence

And the boy of your dreams has a nightmare in his head

He keeps a musket under his pillow for such a circumstance

.

Secrets dripping at the tip of their tongue, are you getting tired

Ain’t it so pretty, the way their drunken minds are wired?

The curtain’s coming down, but the burlesque act continues

And the naked audience and all the masked actors are in on the ruse

.

The flickering streetlamps may not last until the end of sunset

And you may have lost your empty wallet stumbling in a cabaret

Taking profound philosophies from barkeeps, pouring another drink

Don’t know if that sleaze three tables over winked or just blinked

.

Follow home the oncoming intrusion of light in the haze of inebriation

An avaricious pretence that promptly overpowers any realistic temptation

Surrendering the only control that wasn’t there to hold back in the first place

Coruscating affiliations underhandedly leaving hearts without a single trace.

~*~

The girl that you love, girl that you love
Girl that you love knows you don’t
Followed her, followed her
Followed her, followed her home…

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Crime Is For Vigilantes, God Is For Nonbelievers, Art Is For Objective, Life Is For The Deceased

Pretend like I don’t entice you
I’ve seen you circling the sky above my head
You traitor!
I will never be taken for granted again
Keep digging holes in the desert!
Say a prayer for you…

~*~

The gun that you ate like the last judgment cancer

You won’t wake up again, this taste lingers forever

Dreamless and searching for another god to pray over

Will there be salvation? Will there be a foolish answer?

.

The razor that you choked down like a monastery hate

Won’t return the tidal waves to you, so don’t even wait

If the fragile daybreak rises up just a little bit far too late

Satisfaction is the ultimate lie, rosary beads will separate

.

The rope that you pulled on like it’s the final act of a closing show

But the opera voice won’t stop singing and the audience won’t go

You won’t see without binoculars, the culminating genocide glow

Belting out every tragic demise, shot like holes in a glass thorough

.

The chemicals that you injected and ingested like a sinner’s last meal

Still without a clue in your veins and arteries what it’s like to ever feel

The camera’s shooting another hallucination, another high for the thrill

Between you and me, I’m curious to see who will be taking the first kill

.

The life that you took rather casually as if it was yours to actually control

They wouldn’t stop playing the film reels even when you said to end it all

Selfishness carving lined notches in the bedpost where you’ll take your fall

Slipping away from existence as you wondered if you were truly alive at all.

~*~

She’s mine! You stay away from her
It’s not her time, ‘cause, baby, I’m the one
Who haunts her dreams at night
Until she’s satisfied…

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Static Sessions

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive…

~*~

It’s rather strange and desensitisingly nerve-wracking, standing up there with shivering knees, under the judgment of glaring spotlights and hanging magenta lamps, and past the scrutinising pupils of a million watching stars. I do not feel like my own concrete entity, merely a disheveled apparition trapped in a foreign body. The amp screeches—jeeringly, it seems. I momentarily blanch. What the hell am I doing?

Perspiring profusely, trembling hands holding the gibberish lyrics to an unfamiliar forgotten song and an impatient crackling microphone, the beginning intro of the acoustic guitar sounds like a banshee’s scream that’s prompting my knotted larynx to begin making even an inkling of a noise. Quivering, quivering, quivering; dreadful hesitation and a near-death anxiety that wrings the delirious butterflies out of my stomach in an icy-cold freeze. An infinitesimal moment of silence. A skip of a heartbeat. A suffocating breath held until it coagulates. A spill of acherontic reluctance spilled down catatonic spines before one jolts and realises in shock that, surprise surprise, my parched mouth is actually producing sound!

Thus the song proceeds, with or without me. It’s up to me to chase after it’s vivacious footsteps. My voice is no longer my own, simply a phantom illusion; I barely feel it rising up and down, strumming the musical bars to the best of its abilities. Everything tastes like stereo static; clapping and cheering amid guitar and tambourine amid the anxious symphonies I relayed. The quaint scenario tangibly intensifies into a steady culmination, vertical horizons alighting into spontaneous combustion. Steadfast certainty underhandedly replaces the oscillating nervousness within me, pastel assurance slowly seeping in my ticking aegan-washed bones and strengthening every fibre of my abandoned sensibilities.

I find myself closing my eyes and loosening my grip, my driftwood soul getting pulled in the undertows of the euphoric moment. I can barely hear my own voice anymore, and I do not hear the crowd at all. Soprano, baritone, octaves, trebles, notes and rhythms and senselessness and song, they’re all that envelops me right now, my solitary company in this madness of a world. Raging fire burns in my emotions, thawing the glaciated blood in my veins, warming up the frostbitten angels barely holding my terse heartstrings together, bringing oxygen back to my perforating pulmonary flow; and nothing else matters anymore, only me and the music, the music and I.

The interlude swells into a deafening crescendo, and my frizzling neurons go off like fourth of July fireworks, showering the sky with brilliant sparks. It’s infinity on repeat, infinity in my teeth, infinity rushing low, infinity on an all-time high. This feels fucking amazing. What was there to be afraid of? Why had I been terrified all this time of such a ludicrous notion? Perhaps if I had steeled myself sooner, my brillo-pad songs would be less abrasive, and the ticking clock would’ve been on my side. But no matter, for I shall not dwell on the resentment of the past that keeps me embrangled within incarcerating doubt and merciless agony. Rather, I will focus on the now. This is me, doing what I never dared to do, doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m doing this for them, my beautiful divine motivations, though more importantly, I’m doing this for me, and for me alone.

The set comes to a slowing halt, the prospect tinging me with hints of sorrowful melancholy, and the audience bursts into polite applause, but the enraptured sensations linger still; and as I amble off the stage, I still find a soft lone melody humming whimsically at the back of my mellowing incandescent mind. It’s over, I sigh out to my palpitating lungs, to my shaky footing, to my disbelieving mind, attempting to calm my frantic pulse back into a metronome lullaby. But it will never be quite over, wouldn’t it? I ponder with a secret smile. I finally found my voice. I only hope I don’t lose it again. And I can only hope so hard it hurts that I don’t keep it to myself anymore.

~*~

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am…

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Vita Dell’aldilà: An Tragedy Opera in Four Parts

A makeshift smile, a polished look
Some rehearsed lines was all it took
He had it down, man, he was good
A woman screams, her mother weeps
A life so changed irrevocably
What he stole from her is gone for good…

~*~

ACT I: TERRO

Shadows under a spotlight, curtains calling and faces falling

Misfortune malady and maidens in masks, tickets outselling

The man of the show, the leading actor dies of a heart attack

They applaud his craft, the prima donna screams come back…

~*~

ACT II: INFERNO

Pantomimes place props, as paramedics arrive for scene two

The act has turned, audiences gasp, orchestra goes crescendo

A stagehand slips and farers faint, dim lighting and all is dire

Cigar tossed, a painted background of inferno catches on fire…

~*~

ACT III: PURGATORIO

The doctor announces the demise of a thespian, tears are shed

Performers pause for unfortunate condolence, in a quiet stead

Breaths hushed and whispers silenced in devastated memorial

As the stage director pays his respects, and indicates the burial…

~*~

ACT IV: PARADISO

But the artists recover, as the crowd settles down to a murmur

Limelight brightens, musical tempo, inquiries made no further

The poor cadaver carried away to the morgue to be cared upon

Death might watch from the audience, but the show shall go on.

~*~

When the purest soul is stained by sin
To the public eye where can she begin?
She lost it all and it’s gone for good
And she may never beat the system
But she won’t rest until she’s turned
The villain to the victim…

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A Note To Send In The Sun

It’s hard to be living, you gotta play the cards you were given
You think it’s simple but it goddamn isn’t
It’s tougher now than breaking out of Shawshank prison
And as you’re hitting your prime
People say you been committing a crime
But I won’t quit till I’m home
I’ll chip the limestone a bit at a time…

~*~

I’m rigid and frigid, yet bespoke

Speaking of sharp tongues that limit

Themselves to asking “what is it?”

As the audience applauds the cynics

And sits in mentalities of finick

Spin it, another losing tale to uphold

The tongues of silver and hearts of gold

If my failed memory was distantly bold

Then why is the thought of you so cold?

Sold, the paintings I hid in the cellar

Buying my heart for a million dollars

Clashing in shades of blue and white collars

Eyes that could never appreciate the colours

Call her, the girl with piercings in her skin

And her tattoos that tally her sin from within

To keep the demons from gladly releasing medicine

She was injecting just so she could stay breathing

Was she so wrong to want to continue living?

And if living is a vice, then I don’t have to play nice

And keep on hanging to surprise just so I could receive their lies

For this world is not a masterpiece of peace waiting patiently on the shelf

Rather, it’s an empty canvas depicting ruin for the better

An accurate self-portrait of oneself.

~*~

Shit in storage, living from a suitcase
Thinking “this is how a silver spoon tastes?”
Cause you can make a dream possible
But it’ll never be easy, no matter what you chase…

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Ladies and Gentlemen, Please Welcome Anxiety

Never learn to trust your own betraying tongue

When it leads with the weight of your bruised shoulders

What is there to surmise from the situation? None.

But somehow the summer airs get colder and colder

So do not introduce me yet to that impatient crowd

You know that I hate it when I have to speak aloud

There’s a chemical reaction to mind nuclear division

And it stifles my system short and delays my emotion

The reaction is too consequential and almost allergic

The microphone toppling with a dissonant hysteric

And the ears they lent seem to be made of plasticine

Sobering up a sold silken sonata like bad medicine

But still I won’t hide away with the stars just to rue

And fugacious flowery fade with my thoughts unsung

And if I really want the audience to either clap and boo

Then I will really have to learn to trust my own tongue.

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Panem et Circences: Act Two

[SOFT MUSIC BOX INTERLUDE]

[INTERMISSION]

Hey, you seated comfortably? Got your bag of pork rinds and/or sandwich? GREAT! I need you to sing-a-long! It’s a sing-a-long, this next song. Even if you’re in your underwear, sing loud and proud! Now, if you don’t know the lyrics, just follow the bouncing pug head! It’ll show you the way! Now uh, don’t follow the red star. That will give you the wrong lyrics, and completely ignore the chihuahua head. Just the pug, all right? Then we’re good to go! Without any further ado…

~*~

[CIRCUS MUSIC RETURNS]

[SPOTLIGHT SHINES BRIGHTER]

[RINGMASTER BLOWS ON WHISTLE]

[SECOND SET OF ACTS WALK IN]

[START OF ACT TWO]

~*~

[FOSSOR]

Bulbous nose, cream-smeared face

Misfit clothes, rag factory explosion

Some may laugh at me, but I’ll raise

Most are still terrified of this clown.

~*~

[EFFUGIUM]

Chaining me up in leaden shackles

Confined in the claustrophobic box

Or in a tank of water with manacles

I will always emerge free, unlocked.

~*~

[LIBRAMEN]

Swinging from bar to bar, ad infinity

Lithe somersets of graceful trickery

Catch me, take my hand, I will hold

Flying is fun for I know not to let go.

~*~

[MAGNUS]

Amaze, enthrall, smoke and mirrors

Entering phantasmagorical horrors

A pledge, turn, prestige, I’m the face

Of illusions, I never cease to amaze.

~*~

[MAGISTER]

Ultimate act of the ringmaster’s performance

Stovepipe hat tipping, welcome to the show

I’ve no oddities, yet the linchpin of the circus

Conducting exhibitions akin orchestra maestro.

~*~

[VALE]

Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you enjoyed the show

I wish we had more, but goodbye, it’s time for us to go

We hope you gripped your seats, cheered and laughed

And most of all, our bread and entertainment filled you and got you to clap.

~*~

[CHARACTERS TAKE A FINAL BOW]

[UPROARIOUS APPLAUSE]

[CIRCUS MUSIC FADES]

[SPOTLIGHTS FLICKER OFF]

[DISEMBODIED LAUGH]

[END OF ACT TWO]

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Panem et Circences: Act One

[CRESCENDO SOUNDS OF LIVELY CIRCUS MUSIC]

[SPOTLIGHT SHINES]

[RINGMASTER WALKS IN AND BOWS]

[POLITE APPLAUSE]

[START OF ACT ONE]

~*~

[SALVE]

Rings of fire flaring higher illuminates death defying acts

Pretty odds and ends, and recherché entertainment akin

Strangest characters of colours and remarkable knacks

So sit back and relax ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to begin…

~*~

[CERNUUS]

Pull the red carpets under my feet

In your mischievous act of assault

But my dearest, I shall defy gravity

And impress you with a somersault.

~*~

[LEO DOMITOR]

I find myself in the company of lions

But they find themselves at my mercy

A crack of a whip, jaws unhinge upon

As I peer down their gullet in bravery.

~*~

[FUNAMBULUS]

Traipsing quaintly on a thin wire

A hundred feet fall underneath lies

Lest I lose balance and I fail dire

At least it gives me a chance to fly.

~*~

[PARMA]

Strapped and spinning on a target

Sharp daggers nearly pin me down

A sinew, skin will pierce and bleed

But I won’t flinch—risk makes it fun.

~*~

[VIR GLADIUM]

Instead of swallowing the sword

And following their twisted acts

I’ll spit it out my mutilated throat

Instead and I’ll use it to fight back.

~*~

[PRELIMINARY ACTS EXIT]

[SPOTLIGHTS DIM]

[CIRCUS MUSIC SEGUES]

[MUSIC BOX INTERLUDE PLAYS]

[END OF ACT ONE]

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Prima Donna

Oh, smile for me, won’t you?

The crowds are deliberating

Of playact’s bona fide truth

Stagehands contemplating

The understudy walked out

From such realistic tragedy

There’s no one replacing all

From this ludicrous comedy

The curtain falls a long way

But the night is far from over

Read your lines, memorising

You’ll have time to be sober

An applause frozen in midair

As your mask slipped a while

Ah, they’re still watching, love

So why don’t you just smile?

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