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The VCR Diaries- Act 1, Part 2

The VCR Diaries: A Poetic Documental
Act 1- Veronica, Part 2
They’ve dimmed the lights.  I take it they could see the pearls of sweat under my nose.  A few people have filed out.  Either the truth has them running to the bathroom, or they’re about to crawl back up under the carpet.  Whichever, I’m not joining them or chasing them.  I’ve found a rhythm and a friendly face to rest my nerves.  I’m Act 1, and a youthful fury is coming behind me.  So, I’m not dragging my feet or anything, but for now… The stage is mine.


The Prison Mate

The PM is either a mirror or a cloud overhead.
Don’t pick just yet,
In this hole,
Neither is welcomed.

The mirror is arrogant,
It likes to smile back at you,
To say… I know you lady.

It’s full of glare,
And low on grace,
I would break it,
But they’ll just issue me another.

And the cloud…
It holds too much.
It’s eyes are big,
And it sees too much.

I would out run it,
But they got bars in rows I can’t count.
So I lay under it,
Hoping but not praying,
Hoping that it doesn’t get lazy,
And spill everything right on my head.

This one is definitely a cloud…
And she does everything loud.
She even thinks loud,
And if you listen real close,
You can hear how bad she wants out this place.

She’s maybe six,
If not seven.
Yeah…
Now and then,
They come and go.

They come sometimes with a solid frown,
Then other times with a faded grin,
I don’t ever acknowledge any of it,
But it’s all in my accounting,
And today I’m counting.

See, something tells me,
This cloud is on the move,
And something else tells me,
There’s a pun somewhere in this scheme of things.

But don’t look for it,
You’ll never find it that way.
You’ve got to close your eyes,
And go to sleep more than a few times.

I hear the keys,
They’re jingling as they come.
I hear the heavy steps,
They’re panting as they move.

I’m laying,
I’m reading,
And I appear to be unbothered,
But my eyes are ready to jump,
To add to the record,
To calculate her next step.

The iron sharpens iron,
And she’s off.
It’s no faded grin,
And it’s no solid frown,
But without taking my back off the bed,
And with my eyes way out in front of me,
I’m almost certain,
I spotted a prayer.



The Trap

No matter how hot it gets,
There’s a place that’s kept cool.
It’s a place that gets enough shade,
That the ground is always even a bit wet.

My life at the present moment,
Is that place.

The ground is wet,
The soil is good now,
And some things want to spring up.

Now that I’m looking at it,
Perhaps my life was always this way…
And those kids surely did spring up.

One’s lovely,
And one’s a lovely lesson.

The lesson is always in a bit of a disguise,
And if it comes in a disguise,
Of course I’m going to fight it,
Turn my nose up,
And reject it.

But if it knew how to talk to me,
And if it had a calendar I could see,
Somewhere I could write my name,
And choose my time,
We’d get along just fine.

But no…
Her antics just bud out of nowhere.

Out of some kind of darkness,
She predicts cold nights,
And steal traps.

Out of some kind of boldness,
She sees a long road for me,
And is happy to report it to me.

But the lessons are good,
And they make me fearless.
And the pages are heavy,
And they make me strong.

But one’s lovely…

She also buds out of nowhere,
But she creates light,
And predicts joyous moments.

That’s the one with the calendar,
And I try to keep my name off of it,
I try to stay out of the way,
And rest my eyes,
Where it’s not so bright.

I try to keep my life somewhere between the two,
Somewhere where it’s cool,
Where those that were given to me,
Can create light and dark,
Where life is not one but two,
Where the soil is good,

And the ground is always just a little bit wet.



All Poems Written by NaTisha Renee Williams 
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.  Written permission must be secured from the author Natisha R. Williams and/or Grace Call Communications, LLC to use or reproduce any part of this Literary Work, except for brief quotation in critical reviews or articles.
The VCR Diaries Copyright 2018 by Natisha Renee Williams, All Right Reserved.

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