You clamor to be heard but then you stammer;
It just does not come out right though you try
With all of your might in the sight of everyone
And you’ve only just begun to spin your story
And so you begin to falter at the altar of fright
Because you feel you’re blowing it by showing
All of the world you cannot take the large stage
Even at your age, but why not turn a new page?
Let the sage inside you take over for the time;
Wisdom will guide, not chide, and you will not
Abide in fear so near to tears and they’ll hear
Your voice loud ‘n clear as you steer the stage
And engage the audience, gauge their response
And know that you have captured this show . . .
And, too, that it’s only stage fright that bites!
Tag: Entertainment
The Only Game in Town
Cards spread on the table, no bread,
And every head stares at its dealt hand
While the band plays some jumpy tune
And the sun shines bright at high noon
Don’t drown yourself in whiskey, boy
Cause poker’s the only game in town
Shuffle the deck and deal, this is real,
Try to steal and then heal from the shot;
Best to play straight, don’t take the bait,
So plot your best play to win the pot
Don’t drown yourself in whiskey, boy
Cause poker’s the only game in town
This table’s without a meal, only deal;
You’d better be sharp and don’t disturb
Or perturb the other players round you,
And don’t listen to any of the naysayers
Don’t drown yourself in whiskey, boy
Cause poker’s the only game in town
Play your hand well till sounds the bell
Play your hand well till sounds the bell
Till sounds the bell . . .
Don’t drown yourself in whiskey, boy
Cause poker’s the only game in town
Note: Previously published in November 2016, republished now due to some renewed interest as well as for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all throughout 2017! And remember, I AM … 🙂
For Fame and Acclaim
Go ahead, strike a pose!
No one knows who you are
In this quixotic little bar;
Go ahead, untame yourself
Like uncontrolled flame,
After all no one will blame
Cause the name of the game
Is fame, my slipshod dame!
Go ahead, undress yourself
And press into the crowd;
They’re a loud, proud bunch,
Ready for the punch-crunch
Because they’re all drunk
And sunk into the mire afire,
Ready for a fast-blow show,
So trot on up to the stage,
You’re surely the right age;
So jump, prance and dance,
Cause they need no one fancy
To fulfill their lurid fantasy;
Yeah, I guess I will confess
That success begins with skin,
And the more shown, the more
You score with this loud crowd;
You’ve just got to sell yourself
To hear the hell-bell of success,
Then fame is yours with no one
To blame … except yourself
Buried then in your own shame.
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