The Rest

OK OK! So I decided to change this up again and combine the 3rd and 4th installments into one. Here's the rest of the poem everyone.

Stained Glass Procession Parts 3 and 4


Dutiful support aside...
(filled with loads of obligation)

Opening day had arrived.
And butterflies took on a whole new role.

The stars,
In their respective dressing rooms
Eagerly awaited the absence of the curtain.
The supporting cast,
meanwhile,
adorned their costumes of conflicting color schemes
in the tradition of formality,

(Sea foam dresses and "I mean business black suits)

while the audience was ushered into their
respected sections of fanfare.

The air was filled
with a happiness and festivity
that only results in nail-biting and fast pacing.

And the flowers that stuffed the corners of the stage
made the emotion tangible through fragrance.

A scent that stung the eyes and flooded the cheeks.

Finally,it was time for an entrance.

Instead of red,
a less pessimistic white was chosen
for the carpet's color,
and was spread by children
with souls of the same shade.

And the house music went up.

Supporting cast in place,
the stars found their way to center stage.

Graceful recitation followed.

An eloquence not of their own
danced off the tips of their tongues
with a sincerity and meanifulness
from the tissue paper pages
of the volumes of thier own design.

Eardrums were pierced,
hearts were reached,
names were changed,
all through the processed ritual
of a new covenant authored in crimson ink.

But most of all...

It was finally realizedthat successful careers in the game of theater
are not made,
nor do they find their foundations in,
the premise of lengthy monologues
and the process of faking tears
all to the temporary purpose
of satisfying an audience.
(Is everyone watching?)

Rather,
happy actors find their smile
in the absence of pretending.
Their love for the stage is a direct result of recognizing
the mood of inspiration.

(Deja Vous is a tool that can't be taught.)

Happy actors are the ones who never act at all who,
can say
"I do."
without memory's nervous stall,
falling short of grace and causing heavy breathing.

Acting should only cause anticipation,
never
"edge of your seat"
participation,
in which the ending
now could go either way,
giving the actors the weight of directing the play.

WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO LOVE THIS WAY.


So there you all have it. Can't wait to hear what you think. Just wait till you see the new one.

Good Providence

Stained Glass Procession Part 2

Ok so I'm gonna speed the whole increments thing up a bit. Mainly cause I've got another poem I wanna put up here after this. By the way if you're digging this, you're gonna love the next one. But don't let that distract you from this! Continue to read thoughtfully! So without further adieu. here's part 2.


Stained Glass Procession Part 2

...

They call it "training."

Progression towards the objective...
of finally getting it right.
Staging fake attempts of what it might be like.
So we're prepared for the worst going wrong,
'Cause it's the human mindset that reasons:
We're automatically prepared for the best going right.

While we're all scared to death of being happy.

(I'm glad she makes you happy.)


When practice had finished,
a long table was garnished
with bread and wine
and the other "necessities",
to celebrate the feeling of warm feet.
Collisions of crystal
broke the air,
and the ring the glass produced
was accepted
as dedication to the stars.

Stories were told
and made everyone "remember when..."
as well as
where and why.

And they all laughed.

But knew they could never
work like this.
Read from this script.
Act
like knowing that this role would be their last
made them happy.
They hadn't found the right eyes to stare into.

Not with the color of hazel
or blue
(and definately not brown)
but the color of inspiration.
The color that makes you want to stare at it through
transparent white.

(The talk of pupils always means tangents.)



You know the drill....

Good Providence

Stained Glass Procession Part 1

Yay.Finally we return to the original purpose of this site: ART. Excuse the football hype, but I can't help being excited for the Tide. So here's the poem that seemed like its existence was merely a lie I formulated to keep you people reading. SORRY. Anyway, like I said, it's long, and you probably won't read it all unless I do it in installments, so here's the first of I think four. One a week for four weeks. Enjoy.


Stained Glass Procession

So the script had finally been written,
(but it would be years until)
the story would take place.

Rehearsed,
(but camera shy)
the actors were through with playing roles,
finished with the salary of the studio life,
and ready to leave Beverly Hills.

(LOS ANGELES IS DYING OF THIRST)

The script of a lifetime

had fallen

into their laps.

The reading came easy.
Familiar were the pages' corners.
(Fingertips used to papercuts...)
Future paragraphs
became predictable partners in crime.

(Loaded guns will go unused
'cause here we fight with words.)

But memorization,
well,
that's always been another story.
(We're best friends with the author.)

And some how,
some miraculous way,
everything would depend on how well
they could recite a message they could never understand.

Plus this time it would be different.
This time the terror and the tension of a theater
and its audience
would replace the safety and countless takes of the studio
and its cameras.


But enough with prologues.....


Rehearsals began in a fashion that was nothing short of processed.
Walk like this.
Talk when needed.
And most importantly,
Always listen.
'Cause most actors simply recite what they've learned.
But every bit of this
is a game of comprehension and response.
The better players,
to expel their selfish conversation,
talk to themselves,
and at times,they pray.

(This could all fall apart.)

So all they're left with is simply
"I'm sorry, how can I help?"
and never
"This one time I..."

The script doesn't call fot reflection,
only facing the right direction.
And that'll never be back or down.
Always forward and up....


So there's part one.
Let me know what you think and be sure to come back every Friday for the new installment. Ok. Go ahead. Comment your hearts out.
Love you guys.

Good Providence.

The Five Most Wonderful Months of My Life

Happy 5 MONTHS BABY!!!!

I LOVE YOU!!!!!!



"Don't Slow Down" by Copeland...of course...

With a heart so pure
You could fall so quickly

But don't you dare slow down for me

Were it not for hearts like mine
Calloused thickly
You could fall so easily
(Don't you dare slow down for me)

You could take everything I have
Just don't leave my side now, don't leave my side
You could take everything I have
Just don't leave my side now, don't leave my side

Cause your words hit like a train and I can't ignore it
This moment could be our last
You fall in love and I'm running after
You move way too fast

But don't slow down
And don't let go

Hold me close now, lest I fall

They say
I don't know how to love the right way
But you make me feel, you make me feel
like I do

You could take everything I have
Just don't leave my side now, don't leave my side
You could take everything I have
Just don't leave my side now, don't leave my side

Cause your words hit like a train and I can't ignore it
This moment could be our last
You fall in love and I'm running after
You move way too fast

Cause your words hit like a train and I can't ignore it
(Don't slow down)
This moment could be our last
(Don't slow down)
You fall in love and I'm running after
(Don't slow down)
You move way too fast

Don't slow down
Don't slow down

Cause your words hit like a train and I can't ignore it
This moment could be our last
You fall in love and I'm running after
You move way too fast

Cause your words hit like a train and I can't ignore it
(Don't slow down)
This moment could be our last
(Don't slow down)
You fall in love and I'm running after
(Don't slow down)
You move way too fast

Don't slow down
Don't slow down


You are the sole source of my smile...My hope...

MWAH!!!

This Is Just Starting To Get Waaaaayyyyy Too Fun

So here's the latest SI cover. Beautiful huh? I don't know 'bout you other Bama fans, but all this attention is starting to get scary...