21st Century Love . . . Andy & Aria's [Scene V.]
https://allpoetry.com/story/13444185-21st-Century-Love-.-.-.-Andy---Arias-Scene-IV.-by-Lucretia-Mccloud
Act I Scene V
Narrator: With her battered pages held timid, Andy attempts to again read Aria's letter through, though his bleeding heart gushing him guilt, creates a gullied rift in his desires,
disabled him of steady large artistic hands
contradictory in their caress then abuse of her.
When had he developed this demon inside?... Why, in an instant, could his anger torch a forest into fire?
He tried again to let her words in him life inspire.
Andy: (Reads aloud her words in hope
these prison bars in days to cope.)
Dear Andrew.
(His fingers crush the precious pages,
while sobbing tears dampen them like dew.
He lays them upon the cot
smoothing them out to start anew.)
Dear Andrew. Please read this poem entitled: Fear Fleshed Out* to you remind how I once viewed this life of mine:
Narrator: Andy visualizes Aria seated on a wooden stool, wearing one of his favorites silk dresses, colored vibrant blue.
She voiced soft words designed to breech his divided soul. His rational self many times just out-of-reach.
Aria begins to read.
Her tone with meaning deep imbued.
Aria:
Perched
on this precipice
ascending
rapidly
from
blackened
ashes
molded
into
a
solid
craggy
Mountain
High
above the ocean,
the speed of which
stripped
me
bare
of robe--
nearly
peeled
back
my onion skin.
I climbed this mount
turned mountain.
Took
the steep steps
of
"can't"
"ain't good enough"--
often repeated
snide,
wicked,
constant,
projecting
me
higher and higher;
past
any
silver linings.
*
First I floated
on a lake of crystal clear
rippled waters,
which
Could
quench my thirsty soul.
Then
Drown
I
almost
did
bobbing and thrashing,
frantic
on the
agitated waves
of cannonball
performers.
*
I
Permitted
a drift;
so why glance
for a sail?
(Do I really
desire
Salvation?
What
exactly
Is this place
called
Hell?)
*
I
took
the steps
escaping the whirling
whispers--
sudden
blessed efforts
to inspire.
Poignant
sweet
musings
that
plucked at my core;
mimicked stroked strings
of the harp
to pacify
my
bleating
heart.
And
Yes,
Light
seeped through
semi-slanted,
dusty
blinds;
Truly
sprouted
blossoms
on this crusty soiled floor.
Though,
across
windows
(double-paned)
in flight free
and easy,
birds in abundance,
More
Beautiful
appeared;
their varied sounds
garbled.
Their melodies unclear.
*
I climbed those steps
way above those birds;
Above that ocean.
I climbed higher
even when
my legs grew heavy
in the exertion.
Now?
I lie--cold and frozen.
Now?
I will shut
my tired eyes,
just a tiny while
Dozing....
till--
THE END.
Narrator: For Andy this was too much.
He curled his large frame into a tight human ball
in the corner of his cell
as a guard on duty kept watch so as to an alarm call
while Andy rocked and moaned
in this wretched zone hours upon hours
his pathetic cries echoing the concrete prison hall.
Yes, Andy rocked and moaned
in this self created
private hell now called home... TO BE CONT'D
*https://allpoetry.com/poem/12129798-Fear-Fleshed-Out-by-Lucretia-Mccloud
Act I Scene V
Narrator: With her battered pages held timid, Andy attempts to again read Aria's letter through, though his bleeding heart gushing him guilt, creates a gullied rift in his desires,
disabled him of steady large artistic hands
contradictory in their caress then abuse of her.
When had he developed this demon inside?... Why, in an instant, could his anger torch a forest into fire?
He tried again to let her words in him life inspire.
Andy: (Reads aloud her words in hope
these prison bars in days to cope.)
Dear Andrew.
(His fingers crush the precious pages,
while sobbing tears dampen them like dew.
He lays them upon the cot
smoothing them out to start anew.)
Dear Andrew. Please read this poem entitled: Fear Fleshed Out* to you remind how I once viewed this life of mine:
Narrator: Andy visualizes Aria seated on a wooden stool, wearing one of his favorites silk dresses, colored vibrant blue.
She voiced soft words designed to breech his divided soul. His rational self many times just out-of-reach.
Aria begins to read.
Her tone with meaning deep imbued.
Aria:
Perched
on this precipice
ascending
rapidly
from
blackened
ashes
molded
into
a
solid
craggy
Mountain
High
above the ocean,
the speed of which
stripped
me
bare
of robe--
nearly
peeled
back
my onion skin.
I climbed this mount
turned mountain.
Took
the steep steps
of
"can't"
"ain't good enough"--
often repeated
snide,
wicked,
constant,
projecting
me
higher and higher;
past
any
silver linings.
*
First I floated
on a lake of crystal clear
rippled waters,
which
Could
quench my thirsty soul.
Then
Drown
I
almost
did
bobbing and thrashing,
frantic
on the
agitated waves
of cannonball
performers.
*
I
Permitted
a drift;
so why glance
for a sail?
(Do I really
desire
Salvation?
What
exactly
Is this place
called
Hell?)
*
I
took
the steps
escaping the whirling
whispers--
sudden
blessed efforts
to inspire.
Poignant
sweet
musings
that
plucked at my core;
mimicked stroked strings
of the harp
to pacify
my
bleating
heart.
And
Yes,
Light
seeped through
semi-slanted,
dusty
blinds;
Truly
sprouted
blossoms
on this crusty soiled floor.
Though,
across
windows
(double-paned)
in flight free
and easy,
birds in abundance,
More
Beautiful
appeared;
their varied sounds
garbled.
Their melodies unclear.
*
I climbed those steps
way above those birds;
Above that ocean.
I climbed higher
even when
my legs grew heavy
in the exertion.
Now?
I lie--cold and frozen.
Now?
I will shut
my tired eyes,
just a tiny while
Dozing....
till--
THE END.
Narrator: For Andy this was too much.
He curled his large frame into a tight human ball
in the corner of his cell
as a guard on duty kept watch so as to an alarm call
while Andy rocked and moaned
in this wretched zone hours upon hours
his pathetic cries echoing the concrete prison hall.
Yes, Andy rocked and moaned
in this self created
private hell now called home... TO BE CONT'D
*https://allpoetry.com/poem/12129798-Fear-Fleshed-Out-by-Lucretia-Mccloud
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