A performer on stage.
The voice in their head…
It only stops when they sing.
The voice in your head
Is now that motif…
That distracts you from your inner chatter.
You hum along, spreading their voice.
Maybe you’ll sing your own.
There, that’s the spark of your song.
Now isn’t that a laugh?
Too bad there’s not a laugh track.
You always know when to cry;
don’t need a track for that, right?
Oh, you’re saying that you laugh at yourself?
Yet when you cry, you cry over someone else.
You cry because it’s over.
Now isn’t that a cry?
Oh man, welcome to life.
Now you can’t help but crack a laugh
at the irony of your life’s tragicomic track.
If only that were a crying baby in the other room.
You’re but a grown-up knowing not what to do.
Now, when you cry it’s over.
Not a cue card, yet the audience applauds.
You freeze, and that ain’t a dramatic pause.
(So what’s left for the show?)
The denouement is over.
‘Nobody cares*‘, and I write. You know, for the crickets. I am probably going too fast with the frequency of posts here, but I’ll always write when I feel like doing so, as long as I don’t run out of gas soon, or writer’s block hits me hard. Posting is the least of the problems (if it’s a problem at all). Either WordPress says, “fine, you won, now spreading your posts to the grasshopers”, or things remain like they are now. It’s a win-win (because I can’t afford to lose).
I don’t feel like sharing my stuff on social media or the likes, where nobody typically cares for what you write but the image you project, so either people will discover this blog by chance or yay, the crickets will rule this.
Important to note, don’t expect me to write often pieces other than for art’s sake, although there is nothing inherently wrong with writing utilitarian art. Anyone’s entitled to write for social change or the likes, for instance; and I am entitled to focus mainly or solely on aesthetic, the natural world, the language itself, mundane experiences, etc. All while taking advantage of metalanguage, metaphor, imagery (although I can’t, myself, visualize), diacope, etc.
Some are just born with the mojo. I was born with the tenaciousness.
You’re few, but you’re the good ones. Feel free to leave a comment
*I literally mean it ‘in quotes’.
Reveries That I Call Poetry 