Thoughts on stage.

I listen to the rhythms and melodies of poetries that produce several tones that reach my ears. My ears listen to the backround of people who smile and laugh though the poems presented are sullen. Silence thereafter succeeded the cringe of poets that stranglehold their intestines really tight. The dome is mixed with apparitions that fly freely above the heads of the crowd. There is no light that could diffuse out as much as the cold voice of the poet that circles the closure. Ears outside the dome wouldn’t absorb the screams and laughters of the audience within. Only the audience have the knack to clap because they see the piece.

“Help, Help!”

the poet choked as the audience roared to laughter more than before. As soon as he has exclaimed his words, there came the zealous spotlight that roved from the audience down to the poet’s crescent face. The audience also lit up. As soon as they see the moonlight face of the poet who released his voice, they begun to slouch their backs as though they are not interested on what they see. The poet seemed to notice the manifestation. The audience stretched their backs as soon as the poet scratched his head and looked creepishly, sharpened his eyes, then swerved his left hand straight to the guests in front of him.

“You, you…”,

the poet says. The two gentlemen bounced from their seats. The poet mentioned names that aren’t on the consciousness of the two nonesuch. And then the tranquil atmosphere revealed the cold reaction of the audience as they murmured after the poet’s acts. All is still while the poet is curving his hands in all directions. When he reached a point, he delivered the least line that straightened the backs of the audience after:

“You laugh while someone’s gaining bucks”

Which is, by luck, literally true.

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