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The Gray Area (Part 1)
Alas it has come
Another second to none
Let it be written
Inside a fabled book
This library’s full
Of those mythical dudes
They made history
And are now history
Mark Twain
Hemingway
Even dear William
All have a home here
Amongst these shelves
They've earned their spot
But what about those
Off the dot?
Not every writer can be famous
But they can leave their mark
Let me guide you to
The Gray Area
Where the twisted minds go
Lunatics and mad hatters roam
You may’ve never heard of them
But you’ll never forget their names
Let us follow one
As he discovers a choice
His voice
And true insanity
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Playhouse Square
Here I am
A local writer
Making ends meet
On the wings of a dream
Performing my material
Showing what I got
Look out world
I’m on the loose!
I’ll reach for the stars
And crash on Mars
I heard the aliens
Like “Another Doggy”
All I can do is laugh
This crazy fantasy
Is becoming reality
One step at a time
Cleveland, Ohio
Is the place to be
For a whack job writer
Just like me
Bizarre
And Unique
What do you expect from
Where the river caught fire?
Zappa, Cooper, Genesis
I have to thank them
For what they've done
Helping me get this far
And one day
I’ll perform at Playhouse Square
And when I walk through those doors
They’ll kick me right back out
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Warning: Hazardous Material
Chemical intoxication of the brain
Barely legal, purely insane
Last chance to see Happy Dan
You’re entering the world of Jettrainfan
Childish, yet mature
Possibly endangered
Never been tested
And may combust into flames
Swinging with the moods
To this ever changing tune
The narrator is a W.T.F.
Walking Talking Frankenstein
If found on your lawn
Tell it a bedtime story
Do pray that it doesn’t go
“Now let me tell you how it really goes!”
I’m American built
And British flavored
The Russians want me
As a weapon of entertainment
Not meant for the faint of heart
Or “traditional” literature art
I can pull a rabbit out of my hat
Who has a strange sense of humor
Radioactive with a visual tease
Order a pizza: no anchovies, please.
Question the mushrooms in your soup
This might be a bunch of shi-... poop
The show’s about to begin
Find out where the umbrella’s been
Do you understand?
Good, neither do I
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Imaginary Friends
They are the ones
That walk through walls
They are the ones
That never leave
Can you hear them
Tell their stories?
It’s amazing to learn
From your own creation
Friends they are
Near and far
Imaginary to some
Real to us
When retirement comes
You don’t have to wave
Bring them back
As actors for your play
Ordinary people
Mysterious creatures
We got one of everything
In the theater tonight
Play along
You never know
You might run into
An old friend
I’m proud to be a fragment of your imagination
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three Chairs
Bring up two chairs
It’s kinda rude
To make them stand
There’s three of us
I must admit
It’s an identity crisis
Ask which one’s me
I’ll answer, “all three”
One leader
Can’t handle it alone
Like a triangle
Our directions differ
There’s a corner
For each of us
To govern our own
Business and agenda
You can only see one
But throughout the night
Each one of us
Will have our turn on stage
Comedy
Tragedy
Me?
Both
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sell Out
Hey, kid!
Great show!
Though there’s something missing
You know what I mean?
Got a manager?
No?
Look no further
I’m here
You, yourself, and him
Should talk to me
I know the way
To fortune and fame
Talking to a crow, wonderful
Imaginary friends, excellent
The problem is it’s a hazard
Towards a brighter career
Take a look at the hottest acts
They get their short lived stardom
And so will you
Just follow my lead
The people want something new
But they haven’t got a clue
Give them what they desire
A rehash of that popular fire
Dumb it down
And stop being a clown
You can reach Broadway
When you do things my way
Here’s my number
Think it over in your slumber
I’ll be anxiously waiting
Although do remember
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Templates are known
And so will you
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Performance For One
There’s a wolf in the balcony
Do you see her?
It’s not my imagination
It’s a performance for one
What keeps me going
Is her presence known
For I am her’s
And her’s alone
Her smile alone
Fuels my madness
It’s my ultimate joy
What more can I say?
Why won’t she come down?
She’s 600 miles away
But I can see her now
A bittersweet haunting
Where is she going?
Did she not like it?
Have I done wrong?
Something has broken inside
Fake what should be real
It’s all smiles under the big top
Slap some makeup on
The show can’t be a flop
It’s over
Tears form for the wrong reason
The crowd cheers
As I face my greatest fear
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back On The Streets
As I sit on Settler’s Landing
I question how they did it
They journey to the unknown
Yet here I am, alone
Looking around
I feel like an alien in my own town
Have I really changed that much?
Do I even want to know?
I’m larger than I was
But I feel smaller
It’s my roots to writing
But it doesn't feel right anymore
The streets fill with blue collars
If I ask to share a rhyme
Would they give me the time?
Probably won’t even remember my name
I tell a tale
To the ducks on the river
Did they enjoy my poem
Or just the bread in the water?
The tea’s sweet
But my situation sours
Raising my anxiety
By the hour
I can continue my path
Facing entertainment’s wrath
Forever the musical box
With a hidden voice
Should I follow others
Or pave my own way?
The question bothers me
Everyday
Watching the waves of Erie
My heart sinks deeper
Where’s the Loch Ness Monster
When I need her most?
Back on the streets
Now heavy-hearted
Perhaps it’s time
Insanity departed
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Second Thoughts
What do I do?
The shoe can fit
But reality will hit
I won’t be happy
How much can I swallow
Before I drown?
It’ll be worth it
Yea, it surely will
It won’t be the beauty I dreamed
But it’ll feed the beast inside
It may tear me apart
But sacrifices can be made
Do I really want this?
Throwing it all away
Changing my name and number
To be who I’m not?
That’s what they want
A dumbed-down act
The general public will rejoice
While the few turn in disgrace
Never was one for self respect
It’ll be a new low
Money talks
But poetry does too...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Final Stand
Forget the media and mainstream fads
I entertain for the girls and lads
I won’t sell my soul
To sacrifice quality for quantity trash
With all this modern day riff raff
Somebody has to return the light of imagery
With the crow as my guide
I’ll make my final stand
The prophecy is true
I won’t forsake my destiny
Let someone else take the spotlight
I’m The Ringmaster of Lunatics
The smile I once knew
Returns with grace
Writing what I truly love
My friends, I’m coming home
Moving along pleasantly so
You can now see Death on the road
Would you panic and pause in fear
Or continue till his hand is near?
As the perfect chapter is written
My hand begins to quiver
Brain starts to shiver
The world is crumbling all around me
Has my time truly come to say goodbye?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bloody Madness Reprise
The lunatics are in my head
Make sure you go to bed
I wish I could stay homestead
But I’m ready to drop dead
I can’t finish what I said
Coming to an end is what I dread
My imagination remains unfed
Don’t stop with what you’ve read
Will you take my place instead?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Gray Area (Part 2)
Alas it has come
Another second to none
Let it be written
Inside a fabled book
This library’s full
Of those mythical dudes
They made history
And are now history
At the end of the day
It comes time to say goodbye
To our legacy and fans
For we've done our part
Cause at the end of the day
Our legacy means nothing
Without those we inspire
To be tomorrow’s authors
Nobody needs a medal
To know they've done well
Their pieces do the talking
As they continue writing
Between pleasure and pain
Comedy and tragedy
Heroes and villains
Life and death
There’s a thin line
Somewhere in the middle
You’ll find yourself in
The Gray Area
Alas it has come
Another second to none
Let it be written
Inside a fabled book
This library’s full
Of those mythical dudes
They made history
And are now history
Mark Twain
Hemingway
Even dear William
All have a home here
Amongst these shelves
They've earned their spot
But what about those
Off the dot?
Not every writer can be famous
But they can leave their mark
Let me guide you to
The Gray Area
Where the twisted minds go
Lunatics and mad hatters roam
You may’ve never heard of them
But you’ll never forget their names
Let us follow one
As he discovers a choice
His voice
And true insanity
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Playhouse Square
Here I am
A local writer
Making ends meet
On the wings of a dream
Performing my material
Showing what I got
Look out world
I’m on the loose!
I’ll reach for the stars
And crash on Mars
I heard the aliens
Like “Another Doggy”
All I can do is laugh
This crazy fantasy
Is becoming reality
One step at a time
Cleveland, Ohio
Is the place to be
For a whack job writer
Just like me
Bizarre
And Unique
What do you expect from
Where the river caught fire?
Zappa, Cooper, Genesis
I have to thank them
For what they've done
Helping me get this far
And one day
I’ll perform at Playhouse Square
And when I walk through those doors
They’ll kick me right back out
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Warning: Hazardous Material
Chemical intoxication of the brain
Barely legal, purely insane
Last chance to see Happy Dan
You’re entering the world of Jettrainfan
Childish, yet mature
Possibly endangered
Never been tested
And may combust into flames
Swinging with the moods
To this ever changing tune
The narrator is a W.T.F.
Walking Talking Frankenstein
If found on your lawn
Tell it a bedtime story
Do pray that it doesn’t go
“Now let me tell you how it really goes!”
I’m American built
And British flavored
The Russians want me
As a weapon of entertainment
Not meant for the faint of heart
Or “traditional” literature art
I can pull a rabbit out of my hat
Who has a strange sense of humor
Radioactive with a visual tease
Order a pizza: no anchovies, please.
Question the mushrooms in your soup
This might be a bunch of shi-... poop
The show’s about to begin
Find out where the umbrella’s been
Do you understand?
Good, neither do I
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Imaginary Friends
They are the ones
That walk through walls
They are the ones
That never leave
Can you hear them
Tell their stories?
It’s amazing to learn
From your own creation
Friends they are
Near and far
Imaginary to some
Real to us
When retirement comes
You don’t have to wave
Bring them back
As actors for your play
Ordinary people
Mysterious creatures
We got one of everything
In the theater tonight
Play along
You never know
You might run into
An old friend
I’m proud to be a fragment of your imagination
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three Chairs
Bring up two chairs
It’s kinda rude
To make them stand
There’s three of us
I must admit
It’s an identity crisis
Ask which one’s me
I’ll answer, “all three”
One leader
Can’t handle it alone
Like a triangle
Our directions differ
There’s a corner
For each of us
To govern our own
Business and agenda
You can only see one
But throughout the night
Each one of us
Will have our turn on stage
Comedy
Tragedy
Me?
Both
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sell Out
Hey, kid!
Great show!
Though there’s something missing
You know what I mean?
Got a manager?
No?
Look no further
I’m here
You, yourself, and him
Should talk to me
I know the way
To fortune and fame
Talking to a crow, wonderful
Imaginary friends, excellent
The problem is it’s a hazard
Towards a brighter career
Take a look at the hottest acts
They get their short lived stardom
And so will you
Just follow my lead
The people want something new
But they haven’t got a clue
Give them what they desire
A rehash of that popular fire
Dumb it down
And stop being a clown
You can reach Broadway
When you do things my way
Here’s my number
Think it over in your slumber
I’ll be anxiously waiting
Although do remember
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Templates are known
And so will you
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Performance For One
There’s a wolf in the balcony
Do you see her?
It’s not my imagination
It’s a performance for one
What keeps me going
Is her presence known
For I am her’s
And her’s alone
Her smile alone
Fuels my madness
It’s my ultimate joy
What more can I say?
Why won’t she come down?
She’s 600 miles away
But I can see her now
A bittersweet haunting
Where is she going?
Did she not like it?
Have I done wrong?
Something has broken inside
Fake what should be real
It’s all smiles under the big top
Slap some makeup on
The show can’t be a flop
It’s over
Tears form for the wrong reason
The crowd cheers
As I face my greatest fear
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back On The Streets
As I sit on Settler’s Landing
I question how they did it
They journey to the unknown
Yet here I am, alone
Looking around
I feel like an alien in my own town
Have I really changed that much?
Do I even want to know?
I’m larger than I was
But I feel smaller
It’s my roots to writing
But it doesn't feel right anymore
The streets fill with blue collars
If I ask to share a rhyme
Would they give me the time?
Probably won’t even remember my name
I tell a tale
To the ducks on the river
Did they enjoy my poem
Or just the bread in the water?
The tea’s sweet
But my situation sours
Raising my anxiety
By the hour
I can continue my path
Facing entertainment’s wrath
Forever the musical box
With a hidden voice
Should I follow others
Or pave my own way?
The question bothers me
Everyday
Watching the waves of Erie
My heart sinks deeper
Where’s the Loch Ness Monster
When I need her most?
Back on the streets
Now heavy-hearted
Perhaps it’s time
Insanity departed
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Second Thoughts
What do I do?
The shoe can fit
But reality will hit
I won’t be happy
How much can I swallow
Before I drown?
It’ll be worth it
Yea, it surely will
It won’t be the beauty I dreamed
But it’ll feed the beast inside
It may tear me apart
But sacrifices can be made
Do I really want this?
Throwing it all away
Changing my name and number
To be who I’m not?
That’s what they want
A dumbed-down act
The general public will rejoice
While the few turn in disgrace
Never was one for self respect
It’ll be a new low
Money talks
But poetry does too...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Final Stand
Forget the media and mainstream fads
I entertain for the girls and lads
I won’t sell my soul
To sacrifice quality for quantity trash
With all this modern day riff raff
Somebody has to return the light of imagery
With the crow as my guide
I’ll make my final stand
The prophecy is true
I won’t forsake my destiny
Let someone else take the spotlight
I’m The Ringmaster of Lunatics
The smile I once knew
Returns with grace
Writing what I truly love
My friends, I’m coming home
Moving along pleasantly so
You can now see Death on the road
Would you panic and pause in fear
Or continue till his hand is near?
As the perfect chapter is written
My hand begins to quiver
Brain starts to shiver
The world is crumbling all around me
Has my time truly come to say goodbye?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bloody Madness Reprise
The lunatics are in my head
Make sure you go to bed
I wish I could stay homestead
But I’m ready to drop dead
I can’t finish what I said
Coming to an end is what I dread
My imagination remains unfed
Don’t stop with what you’ve read
Will you take my place instead?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Gray Area (Part 2)
Alas it has come
Another second to none
Let it be written
Inside a fabled book
This library’s full
Of those mythical dudes
They made history
And are now history
At the end of the day
It comes time to say goodbye
To our legacy and fans
For we've done our part
Cause at the end of the day
Our legacy means nothing
Without those we inspire
To be tomorrow’s authors
Nobody needs a medal
To know they've done well
Their pieces do the talking
As they continue writing
Between pleasure and pain
Comedy and tragedy
Heroes and villains
Life and death
There’s a thin line
Somewhere in the middle
You’ll find yourself in
The Gray Area
The following is an entry for "MagicalJoey's Anthology Contest". These twelve poems are linked together by telling a story. Now, before I walk through each one, I'll tell about the general plot.
The idea for "The Gray Area" was to follow the theme of a struggle that any artist goes through. Do they want to do what they love, or do they pursue art for the popularity? There can be a happy median, but that sometimes can't be reached. So we follow a writer based out of Cleveland, Ohio (yours truly
) that makes this decision. So here's to all of you pioneers that pave your own way!
The Gray Area part 1 serves as a prologue. It tells of this purgatory library that houses many famous writers. There's a special section for those that made an impact, but aren't well known. It then follows a writer as he enters a theater called, "Playhouse Square". The next three poems (Warning: Hazardous Material, Imaginary Friends, and Thee Chairs) tell of what elements this writer uses. With Sell Out, a manager comes up to him and goes, "That was awesome, but look, you wanna go higher, right? Drop this crazy crap and follow me." The writer thinks about this, and during his next show, those words begin to play with his head. (Performance for One) He loses his inspiration as he watches it leave towards the end. So he goes back to where it all started (Back On The Streets) to see if he can revive himself. It goes terrible. So now he considers what the manager guy told him (Second Thoughts). It's not what he wants, but maybe it's for the better? Final Stand is where he puts his foot down. He's writing what he loves, for that's the way it should be. Bloody Madness Reprise serves as a message from the writer to his audience. Just because it's over, does that really mean it's over? Then you have The Gray Area Part 2, tying up the message in the form of an epilogue
Other fun stuff: There's multiple references to other pieces I've done that aren't a part of these twelve poems (Ex. The crow = Guidance from a Crow). The reason for this is because after explaining the idea to a friend, I began to realize this would be a wonderful idea for a play. In G.F.A.C., the crow warns of people wanting to take advantage of the narrator (the writer in this case). Low and behold, the manager narrating "Sell Out" had that exact intention. Between "Second Thoughts" and "Final Stand" would be "Talking To Myself". There may be others thrown in, or even more material written in the future, but for now, we have these twelve poems to start an idea for something even bigger.
Ironically, "Warning: Hazardous Material" was supposed to be uploaded as a single poem. The problem was it needed some elbow grease, so on the back burner it went. About a month later, I find out about MagicalJoey's contest. What the hell am I gonna do? Looked over W: H.M., and figured that was a start! Cleaned it up, and it became one of the first poems to be officially done.
All in all, it's supposed to be an inspirational piece. We're all gonna hit rock bottom sooner or later, but we can't let that stop us from doing what we love!
Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! Make sure to check out the rest of the madness in my gallery, drop a comment or three and thank you for stopping by!
The idea for "The Gray Area" was to follow the theme of a struggle that any artist goes through. Do they want to do what they love, or do they pursue art for the popularity? There can be a happy median, but that sometimes can't be reached. So we follow a writer based out of Cleveland, Ohio (yours truly
) that makes this decision. So here's to all of you pioneers that pave your own way! The Gray Area part 1 serves as a prologue. It tells of this purgatory library that houses many famous writers. There's a special section for those that made an impact, but aren't well known. It then follows a writer as he enters a theater called, "Playhouse Square". The next three poems (Warning: Hazardous Material, Imaginary Friends, and Thee Chairs) tell of what elements this writer uses. With Sell Out, a manager comes up to him and goes, "That was awesome, but look, you wanna go higher, right? Drop this crazy crap and follow me." The writer thinks about this, and during his next show, those words begin to play with his head. (Performance for One) He loses his inspiration as he watches it leave towards the end. So he goes back to where it all started (Back On The Streets) to see if he can revive himself. It goes terrible. So now he considers what the manager guy told him (Second Thoughts). It's not what he wants, but maybe it's for the better? Final Stand is where he puts his foot down. He's writing what he loves, for that's the way it should be. Bloody Madness Reprise serves as a message from the writer to his audience. Just because it's over, does that really mean it's over? Then you have The Gray Area Part 2, tying up the message in the form of an epilogue
Other fun stuff: There's multiple references to other pieces I've done that aren't a part of these twelve poems (Ex. The crow = Guidance from a Crow). The reason for this is because after explaining the idea to a friend, I began to realize this would be a wonderful idea for a play. In G.F.A.C., the crow warns of people wanting to take advantage of the narrator (the writer in this case). Low and behold, the manager narrating "Sell Out" had that exact intention. Between "Second Thoughts" and "Final Stand" would be "Talking To Myself". There may be others thrown in, or even more material written in the future, but for now, we have these twelve poems to start an idea for something even bigger.
Ironically, "Warning: Hazardous Material" was supposed to be uploaded as a single poem. The problem was it needed some elbow grease, so on the back burner it went. About a month later, I find out about MagicalJoey's contest. What the hell am I gonna do? Looked over W: H.M., and figured that was a start! Cleaned it up, and it became one of the first poems to be officially done.
All in all, it's supposed to be an inspirational piece. We're all gonna hit rock bottom sooner or later, but we can't let that stop us from doing what we love!
Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! Make sure to check out the rest of the madness in my gallery, drop a comment or three and thank you for stopping by!
© 2016 - 2024 Jettrainfan
Comments10
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damn wonder whats causing the head of the person in the " Bloody Madness Reprise"