Lights, Camera, Disaster Poem by Ronnell Evans

Lights, Camera, Disaster



Lights, camera, normality.

I don’t drive the fanciest car.
I don’t wear the fanciest clothes.
I don’t speak the fanciest language.
I don’t have the fanciest image.

But it’s lights, camera, murder when I step on the scene.

Who’s to know what goes on behind the curtain
Of your secret play, your Hollywood fairytale
Filled with characters that just fluster
The old duster and make his skin crawl.

But it’s lights, camera, murder when

I pick up my sniper and aim down its scope
To see him, her, and YOU, and they, and everyone.
I can’t see the light, or the camera;
All I see is the murder; all I smell is blood.

But it’s lights, camera, assassination when I pull the trigger.

There’s nothing wrong with me, I can firmly say
With dreary eyes that ache and burn.
And there’s nothing wrong with you
But you choose to set me on fire anyway.

But it’s lights, camera, manslaughter when I get revenge, right?

When the sweet guardians sing songs of Caution
With little to no rest or termination
Why don’t I listen, and why do I continue to ignore them?
I think I know why: lights, camera, blindness.

But it’s lights, camera, suicide when I ignore the guardians.

Falling down to the ground like a great martyr
With his cause in hand, gripped tightly and securely,
Sacrificing life and limb in hopes that
Tomorrow is brighter than the shade he died in.

But it’s lights, camera, darkness when she leaves me out in the cold.

One time, twice that time, third time CHARM.
Make one mistake, then another, then finally no more.
Keep it a hush hush topic and just don’t say anything;
Just shut up and let her figure things out on her own.

But it’s lights, camera, silence when she uses it against me.

Like an expert sadist artist
She paints her canvas with my suffering emotions.
What a wide variety of colors she must see on that canvas;
She gets an A+ for her wonderful masterpiece.

But it’s lights, camera, lawsuit when she takes all the credit.

It takes two; not one, but two, and
Lately it’s just been me; not two, but one, and
We’ve been focusing our lens on you; not us, but you, and
It’s okay because I’m the master of myself; not you, but me.

And it’s lights, camera, runaway when I finally leave home

With my clothes and possessions on my back
Without ever thinking—tempting as it is—to look back
At where I’ve grown and learned and became myself
Through all the suffering and little wealth.

BUT IT’S LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

When I stay on stage and play the part.

And it will be lights, camera, disaster

When I decide to walk away from everything.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Brian Jani 29 June 2014

lol lights camera disaster.nice work keep up the good poetry

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