Friday, 17 April 2015

Word Portrait - STORY; The Stage

the stage
for the ARTIST


lights, camera’s, nerves
there is a lot of things happening at once
it’s chaos behind stage
barely dressed actors are getting dressed
no shame, the lot
there’s little time to notice naked before a show
cameo go-go girls are going nowhere
they are standing around,
looking at one another with envy, maybe hate too
cause you’re just as pretty as the next girl:
who’ll probably take your part from right under your nose
someone is smoking
no one is supposed to be smoking backstage!
unless it’s the backstage manager
no one says ‘you can’t’ to the manager
she’s been behind the stage for ages
she even smells like the place
one shouldn't be able to imagine her out on the street like a normal person
she belongs to the theater
it’s her territory
the opening applause arrives like an uninvited guest
a thunder of clapping
– it roars with acoustic delight
the audience still hasn't a clue what’s to be served tonight
if all goes well, it’s not disappointment
they paid, you know
the curtain call comes up
cue, then music:
the orchestra starts to play the introduction
a little off beat, some of the violins, then suddenly heavenly
the assembly of instruments get along well
bodies line up behind the curtain
ballet dancers, a.k.a people who eat nothing to transform into feathers
& off one goes:
a bird leaving the nest for the first time,
off onto a stage that suddenly has presence
beamed with more lights than what will ever be needed
more claps follow softly as to not to interrupt the show
time goes by quickly now
the previous scene removes itself to make way for the next
the stage fills up, runs empty
fills up again
the crowd seems to be enjoying themselves
backstage it’s still chaos
props go missing, replaced by ornaments & on the spot change of plan decision making
the manager has lost it a few times already
where’s Margot?
one of those gems who always misses her cue
you wouldn't believe it but an hour has passed
things are actually running smooth
the manager takes a third gulp of vodka
she does it smartly;
who said water bottles should be filled with water?
the ninth scene has started & Margot is on stage
it’s a miracle
the opening night will be a success!
the cast does not smell the fire, but they notice smoke
someone had forgotten to switch off their flat iron
it’s not the worlds biggest fire, well, yet
but it’s catching on better than the two technical support students who’s kissing the whole time 
front of house notices nothing for they are caught in the moment
this is good, & it should stay this way
the ticket payers only know of the scene before them:
a love sequence, with dramatic music
how ironic
back stage someone has managed to find a fire extinguisher
which hasn't been serviced in forever
on activating, it only gives two pathetic white spits
a dust cloud of meager proportion swirl close to the fire
& dissipates too quickly
it doesn't make the slightest difference
the manager is frantic
some of the crew has departed to the exits
“but the show must go on,” yells she who can never leave the theater
the producer is backstage
he’s usually a plump man who smokes cigars while wearing a far too expensive suit
in this case he is a she and she’s not happy
the costs is all she is complaining about
nobody worries about the fact that someone can get hurt
it’s theater, people die performing more often then what the audience knows
the fire gets killed by a bucket of ice water
the barer of the bucket is a standby actor who never sees the stage
he is cheered, & will definitely be cast again as backup actor
for he has purpose
the show closes thirty minutes later
everyone is exhausted
by the time the manager & producer has to bow on stage, no one dares mention a fire
the audience is thrilled with tonight’ grand performance
there are some who decide to buy yet another ticket to see the show again with other friends
the ticket office administrator sighs with relief, for she can sleep peacefully tonight
her job, & those of the company, is safe
for now

©2015 / J. J Brits

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