A Standing Ovation for a Stage Exit - MicroFiction

An ugly girl stepped across the stage and bowed down to her crowd.  They booed and jeered and pelted her with fruit and she kept on bowing to them.  In a long lost whisper in her mind, little more than a sound of a pin prick this young lady had lamented in private that she was not what they had envisioned.  Yet, she took it up on herself, and she gave it her all and she'd bow before them all and at first they were enthralled, but the mob turned in on itself, like  a snake, like an ouroboros, and here they were to sting her eyes with ripened tomatoes.  It was a long day for the girl.  Starting out with hollers that she wasn't fit for the part she had prepared for, her mind on the tightness of her costume gown, her eyes locked on the image of herself as she sang out loud in the mirror.   Her face contorted in strange ways and she realized they would mock the way she looked when she warbled like a crow into the crowd of patrons who paid top dollar to here the scorn of oblivion tear the eardrums till they bled out the canals and down the side of their faces.  In this exaggerated expectation she moved on with her time.  Her mind building up the horror that was herself, and the idea of seeing her performance through the minds of the denizens of the theater crowd.   She tip toed around her co-stars and she shook and trembled in her shoes and when she went to take a sip of water out of her glass the hand shook so that she spilled it all over her costume gown.   She took deep breaths, and there was further contortion in her reflection and her skin was blotchy, and her skin was fading into a rash.   It itched, her patches of skin, and she vomited into  a pail and saw that she too was pale as well.   In a moment of grave misdirection she picked up a stage pencil used for her eyes and she jabbed it into her cheek.   She stabbed in several hundred places so that she bled all over and she watched and was satisfied in her bloodied mask because it hid the hideous creature underneath.  They would never know, and she stabbed again, and the cheek flesh stuck to the tip of the pencil as she pulled it away and squired an emission of blood like the popping of a pompous pimple.  It sprawled a warning across the mirror and it dripped and ran down all over the counter top.   The people outside her room heard her graveness, heard her screams, and her crying and they pounded their frantic fists upon the dressing room door but to no avail as her abhorrent rage continued.  She washed off her face when the wounds had finally clotted and her ugliness was now real.   She opened up her door and everyone parted about her like a sea, and her face the staff.  It was time to commit to the horror of her life, for now when she cocked like the crow for every single songs moment, her face would match her disparaging facade and the people would welcome her.   But the audience did not smile, they did not laugh, they did not appreciate her committal.  They had paid top dollar, had memorized the playbill, for there had been no reason for her self destruction, but now she was as ugly on the outside as her soul had beckoned and the people were disturbed by what they'd seen.  So she worshiped them for their disconnect, for their intellects, for though the theater chairs had leaned out, their pockets she had cleaned out, and they had felt their joyous love of the theater stage had been dampened, by this monster in a costume gown with barely a face to give them.  With barely a face to give them.

Buzzards and Vultures and Ravens and You

Worn out,
Blown out,
Sworn out,
Torn down.

The cataclysm coincides with the convicting conventions
As horses jumble hurdles
And people jumble horses,
And my cause and effect and a needle and stitch
They are murdered.

Tick tock,
Tone deaf,
Medicine balls,
And Cinder blocks.

A short sighted man will teeter the totter
And shift the balance of weighted convention
He will take the convention and contort it into something else
This is why the birds fly,
And flies buzz,
And drinking men cuss.

Feeble rejections,
Premature ejaculations,
Masculine scrapings,
And feminist bitings.

They built their boats, and pushed them off to sea
With little more than a sheet
And some rowing oars, or else nothing in particular
The timid world waits on baited breath
Feeling faint and falling fast
Unable to sculpt,
Unable to paint.

Hi ho,
Cheerio,
Goodbye
T-T-F-N
Easily offend.

A man child in a buttered up coat,
Picking pickled perfumes for poor and persuasive persons
Licking the soles of a dozen feet, and tasting of rotten meat
Tickled and suckled, and fucked,

This game,
The name,
Plane and simple
Penny and dime
Let the lens' fall off
Let hindsight be a death sentence.

There Was a Point to be Made but then I Exited the Examination

It was only half a year ago that the people began to speak out.

No one really knew what it was they were saying because they only spoke in gibberish.

Like a Peanuts teacher babbling in audible but indiscernible words.


It was time to skim the pond and let the water return to fruition.

In the planted earth as a weed and a flower.

Both yellow and beautiful and spanning like a tower.

We have become the things we have despised, and despite it all I'm delighted for all.

We've picked up a fighting spirit.  We've sussed out the last hooray.

Commonplace contemplating, while the pistols at dawn segue into nothingness.

Quarter to the hour.   Half passed the time.  Its in the past, its in line.

Careful consideration should be given, before they mass their misgivings.

Its over sooner than you'd think.

Its over longer than they'd know.

But, despite, the disputes they distracted the derelict and the damned

Despite the disputes demonstrated dastardly what bastardly ways they baited brave brothers before beginning the blaming.

In a World Full of Assholes be a Quasimodo

In a World full of Assholes be a Quasimodo

Have you ever seen such a deformity?

Confined to his own morbid conformity

Crowned king of fools and hailed up high

He only saw that they loved - nigh,

Worshipped him because his ears were dry

Though underneath it they pooled toxicity

It required no explanation no specificity

As long as it was on that day for the fools

Where he wore a crown and given jewels

He felt most honored but every story unspools.

What a joy it must be to be oblivious to the hate

To have a Frollo to guide you from plate to plate

Though baited and distracted by a sour teacher

The sort of man with rod like a Sunday school preacher

Who carried contradictions as he tried to leech her.

The hunchback wasn’t even content to let it go on

Had set about quenching the hunger of the dragon

When beauty was in danger because of methodical evil serpents

When beauty herself kept reaching out for Phoebus’ fragments.

The villain is ever present to snuff out his Esmerelda

He won’t carry it out himself so don’t let him sell ya

He will incite the mob to turn in on its own

He will gather up ropes and hurl out the stone

And the good little hunchback will become emboldened

To steal away from his Frollo what it was he had stolen

For although he had no ears to hear he had eyes to see

So when injustices were done upon him well, he,

He usurped his mighty oppressor and threw him away

And found his way to his little loves mass grave that day.