TRIPPLE THREAT!!!

They are clicking for him,
They are clapping for her,
And I am just sitting in the audience.
I wish that I could get up on stage,
Shine in the spotlight,
Share my thoughts,
With word,
And song,
But I ain’t strong,
The stage,
Once my home,
Is now often a place that I run from.
It’s not that I have nothing to say,
I just feel past it,
And so I sit watching,
Rotting with decay.
A waste of talent some might say.
If you asked me twenty years ago,
I never thought that I would end up this way.
I have been the only cast member in a one woman show,
Performed in front of thousands you know,
But my material these days,
It’s not a show,
It’s real life,
My life,
Exposed,
I have no shame in sharing my woes,
I want people to connect with me,
To inform people about how mental illness grows,
Where it can come from,
Where it often goes,
But there is a frog in my throat,
A cats got my tongue,
My heart is beating fast,
I am dripping in sweat,
What if I belch,
Or projectile vomit when I open my mouth?
That’s just the upper part of my body,
Pretty soon,
It will be loud gas from down there,
I bet,
Not the ideal triple threat,
Singing,
Acting,
And farting,
Not dancing in the way that you would hope and expect,
Belly dancing in the bowel region is not a talent that I know of yet.
With all of this anxiety,
I cannot concentrate,
Let alone recite and perform,
But the writer in me has been born,
Self-doubt,
And my insecurities have not stopped that,
And so if you like what you read,
Please keep coming back,
And share my details with a friend,
How about that!?

Performing…

I thought that spoken word was so easy,
That being myself was the best kind of performing,
Because you write your own script,
Direct,
Produce,
Visualise,
Create,
Everything yourself,
But I fear that I may have been mistaken.
Performing is performing,
And performing I love you,
But my psychosis is now sabotaging my gift of creativity.
When you don’t have a character to hide behind,
Sharing your own art is a very difficult thing to do.
With my acting background,
With my head in the game,
Crowds don’t phase me,
I can deliver,
I like it,
I feel at home on the stage,
But I did not take my honesty into consideration,
My ill health into consideration.
I get so much pleasure from helping others,
Expressing myself creatively,
Reaching out to those curious, similar or exactly like me,
But have absoluteluy no idea how to help myself.
I wish my performance was a play,
But these days I showcase my own life,
And now it is over for a while,
I really feel the pain and strife.
The audience receive a short summary of what my life is like,
When it finishes,
For them it ends,
But I cannot escape my own life!
I didn’t realise at the time,
But I became an actor to take advantage of executing different emotions,
Emotions that as human beings we all need to express and feel,
Being emotionally unstable,
This was a playground for me,
Acting allowed me to play,
Experiment and release,
To feel emotions that we so desperately need to experience to progress,
And grow naturally.
Now speaking spoken word,
With Words That Are Nothing But True,
I have all of these emotions and I simply don’t know what to do.
So for now,
I decided to start with writing to you!
I have no regrets,
Only envy,
Hope helps troubled minds,
But I have been medically informed that my illness will always be a part of me,
With no escape,
A condemned eternity of misery.
A huge cloud now hangs above my destiny,
I am trying to process and accept the character that this makes me,
But this is not the way that I wanted things to be,
And I mustn’t fool myself that what lye’s ahead will be easy.

Scratch Night

Tonight I got to see,
What spoken word can potentially be,
Rap in true form,
Words and music fused together whilst the artists perform.
I felt really old,
It was so new for me,
The artists were undeniably bold,
But the pace was to fast you see,
I prefer simplicity.
I like to hear each and every word,
Even if full of profanity’s,
And simply absurd.
The talent was unbelievable,
Unimaginable,
And seemingly inconceivable.
They called it a scratch night,
Where all types of rappers unite,
There was no battle or fight.
Pure love and appreciation,
Mutual respect,
Not at all what you would stereotypically expect.
The vibe was perfect,
And all of the performers earned my respect.
It’s a taste thing I expect,
Not at all a hate thing.
Rapping is a skill to be reckoned with,
And if I tried,
I would look like a div!
I went to drama school,
I am no literacy fool.
Perhaps my deliverance is somewhat classical and boring,
Like a teacher at school,
But I never professed to be cool.
I’m just old school.
I fixate on feelings,words and rhyme,
Rather then time,
But I must stress that I appreciate the rapping skill,
And undoubtedly always will.
Whether I personally take to rapping or not,
Thus far,
Spoken word is as far as I have personally got.