the act

2012-10-31 12.01.24
the whistling sound
chaotic steps, the dance macabre
bouquet of primal instincts
the time is cowardly escaping
camera-action, slow-motion
where is the shelter?!
explosion…

the silence deafens me
late-summer afternoon
playful sunbeams are girly kissing
my mind is taken over
by Jim’s hypnotizing voice
“I want to hear.
The scream of the butterfly.
Come back, baby. Back into my arm.”
smile…

the reality is bending back
into its mundane state
skies claps and arcs again
cementing numbness is casting my limbs
how did I play this act?
too real
curtains…

13 thoughts on “the act

  1. holy wow. amazing. LOVE your writing style. message is also beautiful. favorite line= “bouquet of primal instincts.” (although, “how did I play this act?/ to real/ curtains…” is a close contender).

  2. Wow, great writing! The image evokes 1950’s Ukraine, Siberia or the era of the Tsar Bomba a bit…

  3. “bouquet of primal instincts”
    Indeed.

    But eventually the thespians must dispurse, the curtains must close. The show must go on…

  4. this is excellent writing. it is very vivid, there are peculiar juxtapositions of thought and seemingly some metaphor. if only we could all call “curtains” when we can not bear any more. thank you for directing me to this poem, it has moved me.

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