PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Under spotlight

Late night in the club
Standing on the stage
Under yellow bright spotlight
Sweating
Hart is thumping
Palms slippery
Holding white papers
Printed with bolded black words
Words that came
From inside of my brain
From deepest cortex
of my concesness
In pissed
Raged stage of mood
With symphonies of of terror in background
At hour that nobody could save me
from myself
At that darkest spot
Words came out to be written
To be judge and jury
To be executioner
To be punisher of my simple existence
True shivering and hand shaking
The words came out
To live their own life’s
Pointing at each of one of us
With their sharp cornered letters
To make testimony of presence
To be the warning for the future
Not to ask questions
Just to be there
Here i am standing on the stage
Almost faked out from the fever
Reading them one by one
Being their slave
Words that don’t have mercy
Mercy on my soul
From my mouth to audiences ears
disgusted from the truth they hear
Stunned by the almighty words
Keep sitting on their seats
Not to moving single muscle
Not to scratch single itch
Petrified in their existence
Even cielos in the background
Now plays lower notes
As i read one poem after another
I ask myself where is that earthquake
To shake that club
To shake that stage
To take us all down
To the center of earth
To cut this agony
To end our life’s
To free me from this slavery
Of the everlasting words
As i finished and step down
Regarded with few claps
I sit on the chair
At the table in the corner
And then words came again to me