Stumble or Shuffle In,
It’s All the Same
place packed
in rebellious denim,
front row filled
with the hawkish
they paw at the author,
shy, a silhouette
too outstanding in
a sea of razor pain
clinking glasses
are a tune-up,
cleared throats
clamor for attention
forget pins, they’re
dropping big names
in whispers, fragile ego
at coat check
pseudonym on the tag,
the art of hiding out
mastered, slipping
in before last call
to glare accusingly
at a waiting stage,
lights hissing in
anticipation, this whole place
a pit, obvious
vipers, oblivious
victims, & there’s
ease dressed as a nurse
medicinal mediocrity,
doses we can handle,
fractal sentences
& no debris flying overhead
microphone screech,
“I am no prophet”,
but he proceeds
to tell us about
our fragmented selves,
jams all our broken pieces
into one monologue
so we can quit
cutting ourselves
off from each other,
so we can feel something
from a human voice again
the scene is set for
chatter or disaster
but no one’s sticking around
for the ending
no one’s got nowhere
to be, no one’s
closing it out, no one’s
even listening
#NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 23 : “Stumble or Shuffle In, It’s All the Same”

“microphone screech,
“I am no prophet”,
but he proceeds
to tell us about”
I simply must steal this lol!
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Well, that wouldn’t be very nice if you do. Quoting with credit is one thing, but please don’t claim another’s words as your own.
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I was just kidding!
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Ok
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What a superb poem! So much meaning and atmosphere! So well crafted!
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Thanks
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