Fire rising in my cheeks
Fanned by insignificance
The work I do is never known
Since I'm not on stage to dance.

>Want a thing? Relax
>into a script to get a taste.
>Fetishes? or repressed natural inclination?
>Roll a D20 to feel better, take fun and make it killing,
>with just enough free will to make it interesting.
>Nothing else can become reality so in the universe we got
>in the cosmic lottery, calm down
>and have fun.
>Find the most effective deformation — BAM BAM
>SHOOT EM UP — and life is real. Over the top?
>Or so aware that art is less than or equal
>to life, so why settle for realism?
>Say something the way that no one else can say
>it. Maintain a state
>of relaxation by white knuckling your partner until you forget to breathe.
>Fetishize white men not being racists.
>Lay it all out for your audience
>whose uneducation cries out to be fixed
>by you
>and you alone.
>Reassure them
>you get it:
>art is hard,
>so I’m going
>to speak my subtext
>and spice things up
>with some choreography
>just to make sure
>you get what it is
>exactly
>that I’m trying
>to say,
>because god knows you wouldn’t get it otherwise.
>(And this way, people will finally understand you, and you will be complete, and you will be satisfied, and you will get everything you ever wanted, and you will ride fulfilled into the bright new day of artistic enlightenment you lucky sonuvabitch.)

i see you across the bar and i know you're like me,
an actor in the play of genuine happiness,
and when you buy me a drink i don't refuse
because we understand each other, and,
at least for a few hours, i can be what you need.

tonight we will be swearing love to each other
in rhymed couplets and the touch of sweaty skin,
because that is how we lie, you and me,
and we have grown so accustomed to this way of
never telling the truth that we convinced ourselves
we were meant to be actors, that we feel the truth.

tonight i will swear to be yours, and you mine
while we both wish for someone else's hands on our skin
and their lips on our mouth, sighing iloveyou.
we are the same, you and me, buried 10 feet under
the hard concrete of a love that will never be
and all we can do some nights to lessen the pain
is find others like us, and pretend to love them.

You see them
—ravishing in their chosen craft and marvelous before your sight
Resplendent creatures born from the union of fabricated thoughts and witty artistry
Tantalizing celestials that grow larger,
making you feel like you're engulfed in their searing arms—
branding you with marks of inefficiency

You look down
—unsure of your own atrocious behavior and crude mimicry
Revolting are you, you believe with utmost conviction and undying self-loathing
A carnal wanton of jealousy,
insisting that you will never share the same grandeur as them—
and you miniscule yourself

You stand center stage,
—on a platform where an audience could only ridicule you from below
Unnerving is their unmerciful criticisms to your lithe skill of transformation
******* savages are they,
when oceans of daggers spill forth from their mouths—
prepared to plunge into shame

but this feeling you have in your chest,
that distinguished bass filled tune
is unmistakably and undeniably,
*Unrehearsed.

The stage has always been my home.
The great curtains acting as a dome.
Memorizing lines, my get away.
Until you came and thought you would stay.
It was alright for a while,
You were everything except vile.
Soon you became by hope.
Turning my world into your  kaleidoscope.
You swept me off my feet.
I learned the kinetic theory of heat.
That was just what you were doing.
My heart you were pursuing.
The curtains acted as a dome.
Then I made you my home.

*K.M.W.

There she was on stage
The Theatre was packed full
Her face painted
Like a porcelain doll.

Lights shone down on her,
Red velvet curtains draped
It's like we were in
The Eighteen Hundreds

She was in full view
Her long black hair was
Camouflaged with her leotard

The spotlights must have
Blinded her eyes

She danced as
Delicately
As a feather,
Mystically and
Artistically,

It was entrancing to see
My friend who was
Starring the show.

The audience were captivated,
Gentlemen smoking their pipes
Nodding heads of approval,

Swift,
Soft,
Subtle movements
Mesmerised the greater crowd...

And then she speaks.

She speaks poetry
In so many words,
Words I can't relay,

I wish I could remember,
But I remember
How it made me feel;

How it made every one feel.

The strange eeriness
Mixed with elegance,
Her words harshly whispered
But true...

The crowd errupted
With applause
"Bravo" "Bravo"

And then I wake....



© Karen L Hamilton, 2012