Day Ninety Four: Instant Poetry 2

Some more instant poetry. Here is what it means, if you missed it.

We jam ourselves in small box rooms,
and feel the sweat on our face.
It drips from the ceiling, and the speakers
make the paint weep from the walls.

And our ears start to ring.

The power, the passion, the play,
It’s all here – people united for a single reason,
one singular love, taking care of each other.
Voices raised in the throng
bracing against each other to dance the night away.
Crush at the front, squeezed at the back
and catharsis is thrown from the stage to the door.

Together in our tens and hundreds (or thousands)
the stage lights burn powerful frames from the stage
into our heads. The music hits your chest,
you feel the passion in the wings,
putting your personal space to the test,
when we lean on each other, bleed on each other
scream on each other.

Disposable fury, exorcising your angst,
or simply to go and have a beer,
and a dance.

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