02 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #2 : Limelight

Limelight

There's that moment where Charlie Chaplin is dressed as Hitler and he's about to speak at the podium and no one is sure what he's going to say and he doesn't even know if he can speak...

And the obviousness of it - Chaplin the great silent actor about to speak unable to speak fearing what may come out of his mouth...

The other day the students said they disagreed and I stared into the tiny high windows of the classroom and deep within my throat there was a catch a valve or some chord that was in neutral and the sound of the whirring fans in the heating ducts was the sound in my brain and I wanted to flip the table for no other reason than I could...

Each time the words begin there is that moment - who is this person daring to person on this space and who are you to sit there and read this...

It's the saddest metaphor ever phored - a crowd waiting for sound - sonic catching in throats - fists suspended above their heads waiting for a demagogue - the performer insecure as the sky - dressing up to deflect its emptiness...