Stage

Someone was talking, incessantly for two hours now
Some admirable feat (or lie), some general rubbish, no doubt shocking.
Despite our yawns, he kept right on (oh I know how)
Spinning his greasy yarns right around our faces mocking

Oh Thor of Thursday, if I were you, I’d be plague on all boring stage-lovers
The ultimate Crusade against them boorish speakers
They’ll weep and crawl like sorry insects; I’ll lock them in underground bowers
But alas! Sweet future, so distant and clear, while ugly Present looks down and leers

“The Second Point I must discuss with you, ”
says he
O dear Lord, has he no conscience, no mercy?
How many more drasted points does he have up his sleeve?
(Are we vermin to be thus experimented on, by the knave?)

Interesting speech is but a boon, uncommon and partial
You must not overfeed on time and luck, but on the reaction of your audience
Shock, surprise, volleys and recognition, the stage is nothing but martial
Thus perceive the trajectory of your arrows with a cool head of sense.

The man reaches for water to quench his tedious thirst
We clap our hardest and with a glare so cold to blast him off the stage
The unfazed speaker struts down, basking in all the glory of his 3 hour romp.

Next is my call, uncalled for, to address the crowd
Preposterous, blasphemous. travesty of powers
Being called out of turn when I was least prepared;
Made dull and slow, by the ravages of the past hours

My legs were cold jelly, head a three-pound stone
The floor had wobbled and vanished, I dangled mid-air
I felt as silly as a penguin (if that penguin was I)
Discombobulated in its ridiculous evening wear

Faces stare past me at the lines etched across my past and future
Pitiless, faceless, all-knowing, unseeing, they find me out
Like the overfed, smug animals in a zoo; and you feel like dust
when they with their cool fine gaze chill you like doubt

i am but a poor speaker, i know not what i say
Spare me your censure, your eyes are daggers to my guilt
If this sounds like bombast, you are not wrong,
i’d sooner confess my mysterious past than bore you with a speech
Pray leave me alone, for i have nothing more to say in the saying game
(And besides, I am a poor speaker and I always sound lame)

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