Coffee Stains & Painted Skies

performed writing, with a poem...

The coffee stain, smeared across

this glossy-finished tabletop

like a waterstain- painted, drawn;

catches my eye,

as it always does,

during the early hours of dawn.

 

It seizes my train of thought,

a temporary stop,

screeching, pistons ceasing

as I think to the other stains

                that still aren't gone.

 

Like the stain of disdain

I have for all the things

I still have yet to gain.

This cigarette,

burnt out from neglect,

rests between my fingertips

as I sip upon the same

early morning coffee,

I drink at the start of every day.

 

And I think,

I lack heart in the things I say,

constantly scratching away

at a leatherbound book,

as I look

                for meaning in this life.

 

I've been dreaming of things,

my tongue can't speak;

of green fields

            starry skies

and snowy mountain peaks.

And of something else,

                        I really seek...

someone whispering in my ear,

taking away my fears;

I rest my coffee cup

upon that stain and lift my head

looking up

                 at my window instead;

I stop and see the first light

over the rooftops,

                      breaking away the night

as I imagine you rising out of bed.

 

And I seek sleep,

because deep in those dreams

everything seems...

                               ...better.

Not an escape.

A time to envision

and help with the decision

to break away the tape

around this crime scene

that used to be my dreams...

                ...but not any longer.

Because...

               there is a green field,

painted behind my eyes...

and I must simply close them

to see those starry skies,

where you and I

lay side by side,

upon beds of grass...

I know eventually I'll meet you there,

                    old friends, embraced at last...

So I look upon that coffee stain,

and give a little smile.

In a short while,

we'll talk again

and I'll be greeted

by the hope you send

           in every little message...

I watch the last vestige

of night fade away to day...

                       the sun is free...

I think of you

and I think of me

then I think of the stain....

         and decide to let it be,

  let it be...

 

Author's Note

Performed Writing. Something I'm working on at the moment, where I use the the 'act' of writing to convey emotion, not just the writing itself. Using doodles, pauses, and other things to convey the emotion of "writing" a poem or story, it is a connection to the act of creating and not just to the creation itself. At least, that's my eventual goal. This is my first attempt at such a thing. I use doodles, camera shaking, blackening of the screen, and other effects to highlight certain emotions and thoughts that go through my mind while creating a poem. This is an older poem of mine, but I didn't reference the poem and so some of the old work is missing and has been changed. It is essentially, what it would have looked like, unedited and simply done. Let me know what you think, of the poem and of the video.

Be sure to like, subscribe, share, comment and all that other good stuff people usually say at the end of a YouTube video xD I can also be reached on twitter and my facebook page, dedicated to writing, in case you have any questions or are interested in more things like this.

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Reviews

[Frieda P]

Wow, this is quite the work of art...enjoyed it all around, those last two stanza were my favorite. 'The sun is free...let it be' Amen.

[MachinaWriter]

Indeed, Frieda. You have a blessed day.

[kublakhan27]

This was a truly moving experience...so much of what you say here sounds just like me, from the morning coffee and leather-bound book onward. I feel the sentiments that accompany the images...this one really came at me in 3D...quite possibly my favourite from your catalogue to date...I love this one.

[MachinaWriter]

Thanks, K! ^^ It is one of my more favourite ones, imagery wise. It makes me happy to see it well recieved.

[kublakhan27]

Well deserved my friend :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

coffee stain reminding of the pain...move the cup over it...put the pad in its place and write, like pouring words down the throat...quenches the thirst for the muse.

love the cigarette of neglect....we neglect the words for too long sometimes...but i also really like the reminder of how often...well when i used to smoke...i would light up a cig, take a drag, lay it in the ashtray and beat the keys...then suddenly remember the cig...take one last drag and put it out...such a waste...but in between those drags...got rid of a few more coffee stains.

[MachinaWriter]

Ha! Yes, exactly lol It happens to me so often. Writing is my nicotine patch, and yet I also feel the desire for another cigarette when I'm done lol If I pound away at the keys for long enough, though, I've been known to go a whole day without smoking a single cigarette and not even realize it. Oh, creative highs lol

[Jack...]

My friend, if I didn't know any better I would think you are me. Your words today are more exactly my thoughts than I could have put down on paper. As I read I saw myself magnified 10 X over. This is a stellar piece. And it is sad as well because that is what resides in my heart. I am saving this one to my favorites and I will look back on it often. You are truly a gifted poet.

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you. Truly, you can't believe how much that compliment means to me. And I just finished the other piece. It's called "Broken Sparrow Dreams".