Atticus
11-20-06, 01:18 PM
I tripped the velvet curtain de midnight matinee;
Finalimenté, entrée bowing eyelids take your mark.
The theater is set for an audience solitary,
play on maestro.
Act 0: Scene -2
Final acts tumble into misshapen introductions;
The orchestra lends a drum roll atop silhouettes
of the church mouse's violin solo;
Black sheep parade under the veil
of a broken abacus.
Act I, II, III, meta IV
Que house lights
The audience returns for the encore presentation.
Stretched across the aisle floor,
I yawned with the stench strangers foot
tiptoeing my swollen tonsils.
Stumbling inside an intermission I shook the shadow's hands;
He spoke of the Shakespearean era
in forgotten tongues against a blank looking glass.
Character nod's in awe
Act VI: Scene Midnight
I tried to sing along,
but the improvisational melody was lost;
so I sat on the curb picking stars from the window sill
on my forehead.
The black sheep stood front phantom of the opera
Dragging backdrops of jigsaw thought across
the marble silence.
The sheep fade into applause as the audience's feet
sweep the laps of counterfeit smiles.
Act VI: Scene 5
Dim house lights
An elephant's ballet pirouettes the shattered champagne glass
Quick breath, relax before crescendo
Across the falling bows of the orchestra's dream sequence
we act as if tomorrow couldn't see.
The curtain's pretentious hold til' infinity
As wilting eye lashes trickle across the anvil,
the lion's paw inhales shrapnel spit by splintering deliriums.
Open eyes wide; Yell in frustration.
Se7en O'clock showing: take your seats
Satin curtains drift the runners of capillary centerfolds;
Black sheep masquerades outline the bloodshot
in an unlearned manifesto,
while the actors swallow midnight applause under the sunrise
of a flutist's final solo.
Hold hands, take final bows
Act Ř: Scene XII
Memorizing lines of unwritten opera house:
tonight was yesteryears copycat production;
I'll read you on the shards of another midnight screenplay
goodmorning night.
The final act has yet to come.
... entrée
Finalimenté, entrée bowing eyelids take your mark.
The theater is set for an audience solitary,
play on maestro.
Act 0: Scene -2
Final acts tumble into misshapen introductions;
The orchestra lends a drum roll atop silhouettes
of the church mouse's violin solo;
Black sheep parade under the veil
of a broken abacus.
Act I, II, III, meta IV
Que house lights
The audience returns for the encore presentation.
Stretched across the aisle floor,
I yawned with the stench strangers foot
tiptoeing my swollen tonsils.
Stumbling inside an intermission I shook the shadow's hands;
He spoke of the Shakespearean era
in forgotten tongues against a blank looking glass.
Character nod's in awe
Act VI: Scene Midnight
I tried to sing along,
but the improvisational melody was lost;
so I sat on the curb picking stars from the window sill
on my forehead.
The black sheep stood front phantom of the opera
Dragging backdrops of jigsaw thought across
the marble silence.
The sheep fade into applause as the audience's feet
sweep the laps of counterfeit smiles.
Act VI: Scene 5
Dim house lights
An elephant's ballet pirouettes the shattered champagne glass
Quick breath, relax before crescendo
Across the falling bows of the orchestra's dream sequence
we act as if tomorrow couldn't see.
The curtain's pretentious hold til' infinity
As wilting eye lashes trickle across the anvil,
the lion's paw inhales shrapnel spit by splintering deliriums.
Open eyes wide; Yell in frustration.
Se7en O'clock showing: take your seats
Satin curtains drift the runners of capillary centerfolds;
Black sheep masquerades outline the bloodshot
in an unlearned manifesto,
while the actors swallow midnight applause under the sunrise
of a flutist's final solo.
Hold hands, take final bows
Act Ř: Scene XII
Memorizing lines of unwritten opera house:
tonight was yesteryears copycat production;
I'll read you on the shards of another midnight screenplay
goodmorning night.
The final act has yet to come.
... entrée