Archives for November 17, 2013

You’re More

I remember how their words used to mould me,

Their comments would control me, scold me.

I was tired of being that boy that everybody ran away from when we were in a line, that’s why the thought occurred to me maybe I wasn’t supposed to be in line, maybe, just maybe I was supposed to be out of line…

I will never forget the day when I was at my lowest, knife to wrist, when something, somewhere; some celestial being gave me 2 words. “You’re more.” Those two words made me realise that the true revenge is for me is to torture my enemies with one simple concept: Them having to watch me succeed. I decided that they would have no choice but to watch me be somebody, I decided that that lonely, awkward misunderstood boy who everybody used to run away from, tease ,humiliate , hurt , push , shove, shout at would be their hope. So I would go everyday behind my smile, it was precious to me, it was golden. I decided to live every day , the sun was my limelight , I danced , I would dance even when the audience walked away .Still I would dance, harder, faster , knowing someday, one day… they’d stay. But the crowd was so harsh, they tore me apart called me names, but all I heard was the roar, them asking for more, I suppose I was tired, tired of crying, It’s not easy, too dramatic ! I wanted those scenes to stay on the stage, they didn’t. it’s never easy but I know that I’ll never be faced with something I cannot handle .It’s tough, so tough, I still dance, so hard, so strong, I dance for that boy, maybe he’ll be still, he’s a baby crying, wailing but I’m going to dance I taught him to dance but I suppose that boy is still in there he’s still crying, but at least he isn’t dying. I’ve realised that I can only wipe the tears away by dancing, harder, faster, stronger, and longer so the world can see. There are two words, to remind that sad, hurt, teased lonely boy,

“You’re more.”

The Fame: A dark truth

I’m so tired; I’m tired of and living in a world where I’m not allowed,

Tired of getting up every day having to pretend I’m comfortable when the limelight is so hot, it burns me. Having to pretend I’m just another brick in the wall just so you can feel comfortable in the plain world you’re living in. it’s what I crave its security, fame: my security.

Where’s the jazz the lights, the audience, my audience where are they! They’re waiting for me to get out there, to be a star to wow the crowd but the truth is I’ll never feel their ovation. They scream, so loud but I’m deaf, deaf to the fact that I’m theirs. I’m the star, not a human being. I need to stop crying. I’m living the dream I’ve done it. I’m finally there, theirs. I asked for this life begged prayed, it’s finally here but why are there so so so very many tears. I need to get out there, push on, because it’s live, I’m alive.

The Who

Is it far fetched when garments garner stars flesh
and lets us ponder upon the comets last wish?
Ask what,
basking sun rays plagued by the darks star dust,
The WHO must have mustered the blues before us.
The WHO said it, I meant choose your sedative son,
when I see babies playing in mud pools fooling truth and loosing their youth young,
It’s done, the WHO came and laid the moon down,
look as love comes front of your cheque book crooked frown.
Took it to heart sharp with eyes round,
Can’t I part your mind and die where your souls found?
round and round, the WHO keeps spinning time bound,
down and down pounded out of blind clouds.
Who are we proud of?
This time the WHO is present and let’s find the past tense
fenced in denial.
I penned it in a whisper, slipping through her blistered eyes,
Child, why???
Shelled in misfit lines, this citrus bride marred to part divine,
farther than the WHO spooled through Cupids rise.
Few knew the putrid hoofs might,
shackled lucid in the truest moonlight,
soon danced on faceless graves, hatred trailing blue in hindsight,
labelling proof and arrived at, the WHO must have gave us life!
Save us, when days tripled sixteen ways gave us night,
described in mystique and killed his bride,
misread Exodus, hence the plead to fight,
need for peace corps, he brought signs in section five,
dissected by, live mimes directed by the silent hype,
neglect the WHO???
Shit, we already tried.
Who blew the moon out?
Rippled through the groove, proving the fool shouts,
about the clock tick writing down wicked doubts,
slipping through the rooms mouth.
He moved to mind play tracing the true route,
bound to find it here.
Louder than the angels whisper rain in natures ear,
Has the frown finally disappeared?
Hades teach us, these teeth are aching to tear your flesh,
Where were we when HE graced Eve with breath?
Placed me to teach and I gave each a page from the sacred text.
The WHO knew we’d ask and blessed each with legs,
hence the Wiseman who takes his pain to bed
and wakes a fool taking the day to death,
praying some may but they hang before he even breaks a sweat.

© Myles Dacus 2013