Stage fright
Fear. Fear is a thief that rapes.
the midnight vandal of the soul.
Freud waltzes in my mind trying to rearrange
the puzzle pieces.
Trumpets spout the pulp & rind of symphonic
beauty…young lungs give birth to melody.
Are you lucky enough to surrender?
All we ever really want is our stage
to perform the Arabian froth of our ancestors
and to dance with the feet of a wizard
stallion feet, Savion Glover hooves.
Once upon the lath, are owls in the room?
who notices but the observant one?
Unveiling, delivering the serum to the spirits
liberating the demon.
And yet, the anxious one becomes the owl
for moments. flourishing bursts. a liniment.
Against the edges of life the back is scratched
translucent light abducting the essence
of life, the malted syrup drizzles in admiration
the ark of knowledge, the divine dessert.
Bittersweet masterpieces surrounding the mantle
of human diversity.
Succulent residue is the antidote for stage fright
princely pulp, the salve of Socrates
ingested by the greatest Men who ever lived.
~daria S. dawson
© 2001
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