Audio Shorts, Multimedia, Music, Poems

The Tragedy Of Headshots (Audio Short)

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(Download the instrumental version here)

The Tragedy Of Headshots

There is a tragedy to headshots
These eight by ten obituaries
These manilla folders
Leaking blood, sweat, and tears
Across the varnish
Of your desk

This innocent flesh of ours
Freckles bursting through the make up
These desperate smiles
These vacant eyes

Opened so wide
So you can see the hope
The hope that might bind you to the photograph
Through a sweet nexus of sympathy

Sympathy that might turn into consideration

These big gray eyes begging you
To terraform our homes into sound stages
To turn our landscapes into cardboard backdrops
To use our ash trays as stage markers
To put a spot light where the sun used to be

Can’t you see this face next to your lead
In your park bench picture?
Can’t you see these lips pressed to theirs
Framed up in your rule of thirds?

Or are you auditioning us for a role
That has already been cast?
Letting the understudies
Sit in the lead’s chair
If only
To keep it warm

There is a tragedy to headshots
These smiles frozen in celluloid
These sad points of reference
To the afterthoughts that we’ve become

Waiting in your lobby
I should’ve known
That I’d never get
This part

6 thoughts on “The Tragedy Of Headshots (Audio Short)”

  1. jackspratt823 – I'm interested in poetry of any era , and the way it works. I want to present essays, comments and reviews of poetry from every age and origin
    jackspratt823 says:

    A good point well made. I like “freckles bursting through the make-up” My only niggle is the repetition of ” the hope/the hope” and ” sympathy/sympathy”- I know you want emphasis here but I think there are more elegant ways to solve the problem. But believe me- this is only a niggle. This poem is good. You got the part.

    Reply
    1. drewchial – When Drew Chial was very young, he found an attic hidden in his bedroom closet. He discovered it investigating an indentation in the ceiling, nudging it with a broom, until it fell inward. There was no stepladder for him to climb, so he scaled the shelves. Shining his flashlight, he found a long triangular hall, twice the length of his bedroom. Every surface was coated in pink insulation that made his skin itch. Creeping into the basement, Drew stole a sleeping bag that he unrolled on the attic floor. He set a tiny aluminum lock box on top of it. This is where he hid the things he wrote. Now Drew hides them in plain sight.
      drewchial says:

      Point well taken. This is an older poem, though the format lends itself to a bit of repetition, I rarely repeat myself that much these days. Thanks for reading and commenting.

      Reply
  2. raishimi33 – Freelance writer: articles on linguistics and eating disorders. Former Film Studies student. NES button masher, country walker. Loves cats and sushi. Interests include meteorology, criminology, UK/European politics, the EU, and archaic weaponry. Contact at Celenagaia33@gmail.com
    celenagaia33 says:

    A heartfelt message, one anyone selling their soul in art can relate to. The world takes as much as it gives.

    Reply
    1. drewchial – When Drew Chial was very young, he found an attic hidden in his bedroom closet. He discovered it investigating an indentation in the ceiling, nudging it with a broom, until it fell inward. There was no stepladder for him to climb, so he scaled the shelves. Shining his flashlight, he found a long triangular hall, twice the length of his bedroom. Every surface was coated in pink insulation that made his skin itch. Creeping into the basement, Drew stole a sleeping bag that he unrolled on the attic floor. He set a tiny aluminum lock box on top of it. This is where he hid the things he wrote. Now Drew hides them in plain sight.
      drewchial says:

      Thanks you. I’m in the process of writing a much longer rant on selling my soul to sell my art right now.

      I wrote this poem a while ago, after a friend in the theater was showing me her headshots. She was telling me about her hard luck with auditions. I went and internalized the feeling and applied it to my medium.

      Reply
      1. raishimi33 – Freelance writer: articles on linguistics and eating disorders. Former Film Studies student. NES button masher, country walker. Loves cats and sushi. Interests include meteorology, criminology, UK/European politics, the EU, and archaic weaponry. Contact at Celenagaia33@gmail.com
        celenagaia33 says:

        As all the best artists do 😉 Good on you.

  3. Pingback: My Best Posts on Love or Lack Thereof | Drew Chial

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