Act One

An open curtain gave sight to all the lived behind the curtain on stage Mostly racks of clothes, a few hats, and belts too laid on the ground At this sight my mind lost, and I began to dream with my heart of an act, of a scripts page It was I the poet that took to his acting and made hearts dance with the art of sound I was dressed in black, shaggy hair and huge aviator sun-glasses made my fit Romeo was my place in the play O' the living art that surrounded the emptiness of the vacant audience The seats made one think as if they were filled, giving good feelings to act All senses come to pause, as in an act one can call upon what ever the tone requires I wept to my own words, and along with my bogus sorrow the people did follow suit Patient to pretend As this type of art will always aid the broken to amend Who will be, who will see, as for the heart seeks only to understand, and not to perfect In a stage many fall captive to the suspense that runs along the side of the guest seats One can say, or one can play Let us all be in imagery to fully understand the act Walk, and talk in form Matters not if its sunny or there is a roaring storm Keep on the ways of a character to its all Will you weep when the line calls Obey ethics of written lives Hold still to fake passages that tune the soul Ignore real heart feelings of thy own being See not the way for its reality but for its imagination Can you instill the heart of another Will you be kind as to pretend a love for a brother I awake, for its time took my hearts take To dream I fell Almost feeling it in me as a true spell I will not flatter to see another careless mistake Hold me As I shall set the scene free An act to act A heart to tame intact Fee into your own dream I hear a scream, I awake into my act "act one"