Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Pain the puppetmaster,
jerks your strings spastic.
You flail,
ripple in reaction,
instant reflex
lashes out of control,
smacking,
innocent co-stars.

Self-loathing and remorse,
producers of the show,
always show up later,
with reviews,
you really prefer,
not to read.
However, as your publicist,
I suggest you do.

these strings in my arm
pull fire through
when i move my fingers

i'm almost sure
my affliction is
not tinnitis
tho it may sound like

i can never bear to
read reviews. my eyes
burn & turn glass.

but at least it's better
than having to learn
to write lefthanded

i'll have another beer
& wonder about circles

It's not when you read your reviews
trouble starts when you believe them

I feel sorry for Hitler in 1944
when his plans of world domination
weren't working out
his spin doctors told him
everything was rosy
never believe a review
that was written by someone you hired

Hes.. read this a few times.... saw different shades each time... probably intended to paint individual pain and the erratic course it may induce, and unintended side effects.... could almost be an allegorical reference to flailing, overly militarized U.S. response to 9/11 as well, if one let their imagination go...

Mnaz wrote,
"probably intended to paint individual pain and the erratic course it may induce, and unintended side effects..."

Righty-oh!
H

Self-loathing and remorse,
producers of the show,
always show up later,
with reviews,
you really prefer,
not to read.

yeah sometimes I really prefer not to read...!
great writing!!!

So what do you suggest I do? Read what?
See, that’s the thing producers just don’t get:
I play it well—I puppet graciously, but
I never pull the strings of graces set
to slide the lifeburns guiding me. You’re right,
I know it: price-tag of publicity.
Self-loathing and remorse—but more the fright
the critics have me figured out. Whoopee!
Reviews! I smacked the stars and lived to tell
the tabloids of my downfall: Wooden Boy
Has Termites: Picked his scars and lived to sell
out polaroids of shameful acting. Oy
veh. Still, you’re right: of course I’m gonna read—
who plays a martyr ought agree to bleed.

Cool, as per usual, H.

Like a Ventriloquist
named JHVH and his
puppet Marty Luther:
Ickkk ruf zu dir
Mein Gotttttttt......
(sorta Helloween, 24/7).
Or as Ozzy sed:
AYE aye Aye