Echo’s filled the room as the microphone hit the floor. The crowd stood still, shocked at what their hero had done.
brilant
Spit shit fast, full throttle on the bone, laying my lyrical sweet like candy sugarcone,
Rulers and their riches, smug upon the throne, grinning from the labours of indoctrinated drones,
Money hoarders with their grimace and a condescending tone, slobbering over bankrolls from exploitative loans
Fallen from grace now like a hot drop scone, begging for forgiveness in a grovelling atone,
None dare to mess when I’m flowing in the zone, the power of the masses in my booming microphone.
Microphones are interesting many famous and interesting people use them…from young to old, rich to poor….from every walk of life… a microphone has heard it all. If only everyone listens to what is said from the microphone then maybe we would be different. Microphones can be used for good or bad, you decide.
Lauran Ostberg
The mesh from the microphone was tarnished from the spit of previous singers, but it felt surprisingly heavy in the hand. There was a history in this place and he wondered what words have passed through the wire and mesh to communicate ideas and meanings to the world before he arrived.
Testing testing that awful echo whistle whine. What is there to say that has to be broadcast at this pitch over heads and tables, magnifying every um and er? King’s speech? All speech. Nervous coughs. Can you hear me at the back? I hope not.
BB
My colleague tells me that in my place of work they have microphones under the desks – yes the place is bugged. MI5 is in the building – unlike Elvis who has left the building.
they are fun to sing into when you are feeling blue. Sing at the top of your lungs never look back and don’t stop. The world will love you for it. Always and whenever. If you want to sing then you have the freedom. Never give in to someone saying no. Take a chance and try. Even if you fail. And you really suck at singing.
Zsenai
Makes whispers into shouts. Sussurations? A feedback whine when two Mikes meet — is that a condemnation or a celebration of a relationship?
Asproulla
I speak when the sun comes down, to feel the rain upon my face. The light beings to die down. darkness ready to consume me. Did we lose the war, or has it even begin? Drifting in and out, I hear the sirens singing our last melody till the night devours everything living.
James
high wind, high noon, and one of those days everybody felt the air and wanted to be in it. we spent time cruising old roads empty of people and human complaints. i could see the sun shining gold on your hair, all windblown and reflecting hues in the rear-view. from the backseat you looked as a solitary constellation — nothing more, nothing less — and you sang soft sounds like soft chimes into that brown hairbrush microphone; real or not, i couldn’t tell the difference.
petros
He tapped the microphone, red in the face with embarrasment
” uum Hello?, Test, test?”
he was so incompetent, the microphone wasnt even switched on, he stood there in his con, skinny jeans and button up shirt with a cardigan and sunnies, he was such a dork.
But I couldn’t help loving him…
Anna
i freakin’ love microphones. you can sing or talk into them, and you can be heard for miles…. i think. i talk/sing into microphones a lot, because i’m in a band. how did the idea for the creation of a microphone come about anyway? i’ll have to search “history of microphones” on google today.
kristina smiley
can you hear me standing on my soap box? Or do I need a microphone? I thought you said you’d listen when I’d talk. But my talk is not what you hear, to you I just speak. Sometimes when you ask me to repeat things, I just pretend I never said anything at all.
All I could think of when I read the word for today was this toy I had when I was a kid. It was a big orange and yellow, plastic microphone that basically had the same effect on your voice as talking into the back of a fan. We used to yell just utter nonsense into that thing all day… Which isn’t that different than what happens when you put a real microphone in random people’s faces. What is it about amplification that often brings out our most inane sides? Things we’d feel foolish and crazy doing in private, we often do with vigor when it’s broadcast.
put this mic to the test
time to set my soul at rest
things i need to say set me free
things i need to say i see
KCK
the microphone loomed up before him like an instrument of torture. he could feel his voice cowering at the back of his throat, his mouth dry, his tongue a huge, useless slug.
with this microphone i amplify my thoughts and emotions to the deafened people i call FAMILY. I ignite in them a burning fire by unveiling my deepest dreams, wishes, and aspirations, as unheard of as they may be….they will be heard…with this microphone…..
Mel
unnatural amplification through the use of modern technology
what has music come to when we can’t all sit around a campfire and sing songs
just kidding i’m not that much of a douchebag
i found the loophole though
‘=====O look its a microphone
micro, phone…. i understand the phone part, but its really not that small, right?
WEED?!
Bob Saget
she sweats in the darkness, her blood thudding in her ears, a freight train running back and forth between her temples, her limbs numb to the touch. its now or never. she steps into the light, the silence deafening as she opens her mouth and begins to speak.
DJ
I cant whistle like you baby… its funny how u pull the guitar strings. its the goosebumb that brings me to live when i hear you sing , my crumple pie..
C'Sam
She sang. Her voice carried out over the crowd and the microphone amplified her voice. A sweet lullaby caressed each listener as she sang. each body swayed to her song.
Monika
Most use a microphone to have themselves heard. Wether through music, words, or what have you.. Microphone equals volume. Volume makes you heard. Spread your voice.
a.g
He grabbed the handle and stirred vigorously. Angry tears streaming down his face. Like beads of sweat. She wasn´t there on the corner waiting, like he´d thought. Ten days locked out with no food. She ought to be hungry by now. Where is that cat? The potatoes would be starchy this dinner.
SLM
singing a stage craig owens music warped tour beautiful voices opera justin is playing baseball right now and i have no idea what to say about a microphone its really hard but i really like music and justin is cheating and watching me write. wow now the time started over and i dont really know what im supposed to do. justin is about to win his baseball game. i know im supposed to be talking about a microphone but its a lot harder than it sounds. i guess i think about singing on a stage when i think of a microphone mostly. its a hard thing to think of though. weird.
abbie
i want to scream out my whole life story. turn the volume all the way up. let the world hear it. every detail, every embarrassing piece. but let me wear a mask, please.
Megan
the microphone is a tool used mainly by musician’s to sing and express themselves. that is the most common method but it is also used by politicians and speakers to bring key ideas out in the open. it’s a tool that unites people and lets people’s voices be heard. it demands attention that others might not normally get.
ahara
I step up. This has never been my forte or desire, but somehow I am inexorably drawn to it. I speak and hate the sound of my own voice coming through the speakers, but it’s all there is. Silence. The sound of 10,000 in silence to hear me is all I ever need.
it stood glaring at her. even under the burning lights she could feel it’s steely gaze and imposing presence. she grabbed it by it’s stem and took control. out of that contraption spewed love, anger and every insecurity you could imagine. it came out raw, and amplified. it lifted her up and it made her lighter. every single time.
Lynne A.
She held onto the microphone like the edge of a cliff. Though she breathed quickly, it felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her body. Faces in the crowd blurred into one massive hostile body waiting for her to act, waiting for her to provoke it so it could attack. The microphone slipped out of her hand to the floor and the speakers thundered with the impact. An individual disentangled itself from the blurry monster and helped her off the stage as she mumbled apologies and thank yous and pleases and anything else that came to mind.
He grabbed the microphone and screamed into it with the furor of a man having finally found a voice after decades of it being stifled. What he said wasn’t important. To whom he said it to wasnt either. But the fact that he spoke into it; that was a miracle.
Dhruv
he held the microphone gasping for each breath as he tried to tell the crowd of the impending danger but how where they to listen when it was not even on the zombies had wiped out the power and now everyone was going to die in a post-apocalyptic frenzy.
Rachel
I stand up beside it, and prepare to sing. My breath engages and I prepare to begin, but before I can get my cords to vibrate I realize I’ve already said and sung all that was needed.
Joshua Mazur
It would be so much easier to say if I could just shout it out. It sounds too strange coming out of my mouth in just a whisper. “I love you.” I wish I had a microphone. These words would sound so much more real if they were amplified.
Maci M.
Allright. This was it. The big break.
Grabbing onto the microphone, I raised it slowly to my lips. I took a deep breath, stared into the audience…
and ran for my life.
The thing is, I don’t do crowds. I just don’t. I have terrible stage fright.
Each and every one of those people has their own opinions. Opinions of me. What right do they have to judge me? It doesn’t seem fair.
Backstage, I run to the nearest bathroom and conceal myself in a stall. I lift my legs up and pull them to my chest, to make sure nobody would be able to tell I was there. Luckily, the bathroom was empty when I came in. For now.
I’d have to come out sometime.
Emily
for singing like steven tyler and his big and classical microphone, or perhaps elvis presley stylish microphone, i don’t know its something like this
Marcos
I think a microphone could be a symbol for music or sound. It is something that we invented in order to project and record our voices. I have slept with someone who had a microphone tattoo, but no taste for music or speech. How Ironic? A Microphone could be anything. You just have to speak to it first.
SeaJay
it makes everything in front of it seem significant, adding elegance too any err, simulating the effects of importance with its simple presence. they amplify more than just the sounds.
Standing on a stage, the spotlight comes down, blurs out the people in the crowds, the thousands, the millions. A hundred million more sparkling flashes, images coming through, surrounding me, enveloping me.
calamity
He picked up the microphone and he started to sing. I tried hard but I couldn’t recognise the song. It was so familiar but all memory must have ….
Echo’s filled the room as the microphone hit the floor. The crowd stood still, shocked at what their hero had done.
Spit shit fast, full throttle on the bone, laying my lyrical sweet like candy sugarcone,
Rulers and their riches, smug upon the throne, grinning from the labours of indoctrinated drones,
Money hoarders with their grimace and a condescending tone, slobbering over bankrolls from exploitative loans
Fallen from grace now like a hot drop scone, begging for forgiveness in a grovelling atone,
None dare to mess when I’m flowing in the zone, the power of the masses in my booming microphone.
Microphones are interesting many famous and interesting people use them…from young to old, rich to poor….from every walk of life… a microphone has heard it all. If only everyone listens to what is said from the microphone then maybe we would be different. Microphones can be used for good or bad, you decide.
The mesh from the microphone was tarnished from the spit of previous singers, but it felt surprisingly heavy in the hand. There was a history in this place and he wondered what words have passed through the wire and mesh to communicate ideas and meanings to the world before he arrived.
Testing testing that awful echo whistle whine. What is there to say that has to be broadcast at this pitch over heads and tables, magnifying every um and er? King’s speech? All speech. Nervous coughs. Can you hear me at the back? I hope not.
My colleague tells me that in my place of work they have microphones under the desks – yes the place is bugged. MI5 is in the building – unlike Elvis who has left the building.
they are fun to sing into when you are feeling blue. Sing at the top of your lungs never look back and don’t stop. The world will love you for it. Always and whenever. If you want to sing then you have the freedom. Never give in to someone saying no. Take a chance and try. Even if you fail. And you really suck at singing.
Makes whispers into shouts. Sussurations? A feedback whine when two Mikes meet — is that a condemnation or a celebration of a relationship?
I speak when the sun comes down, to feel the rain upon my face. The light beings to die down. darkness ready to consume me. Did we lose the war, or has it even begin? Drifting in and out, I hear the sirens singing our last melody till the night devours everything living.
high wind, high noon, and one of those days everybody felt the air and wanted to be in it. we spent time cruising old roads empty of people and human complaints. i could see the sun shining gold on your hair, all windblown and reflecting hues in the rear-view. from the backseat you looked as a solitary constellation — nothing more, nothing less — and you sang soft sounds like soft chimes into that brown hairbrush microphone; real or not, i couldn’t tell the difference.
He tapped the microphone, red in the face with embarrasment
” uum Hello?, Test, test?”
he was so incompetent, the microphone wasnt even switched on, he stood there in his con, skinny jeans and button up shirt with a cardigan and sunnies, he was such a dork.
But I couldn’t help loving him…
i freakin’ love microphones. you can sing or talk into them, and you can be heard for miles…. i think. i talk/sing into microphones a lot, because i’m in a band. how did the idea for the creation of a microphone come about anyway? i’ll have to search “history of microphones” on google today.
can you hear me standing on my soap box? Or do I need a microphone? I thought you said you’d listen when I’d talk. But my talk is not what you hear, to you I just speak. Sometimes when you ask me to repeat things, I just pretend I never said anything at all.
All I could think of when I read the word for today was this toy I had when I was a kid. It was a big orange and yellow, plastic microphone that basically had the same effect on your voice as talking into the back of a fan. We used to yell just utter nonsense into that thing all day… Which isn’t that different than what happens when you put a real microphone in random people’s faces. What is it about amplification that often brings out our most inane sides? Things we’d feel foolish and crazy doing in private, we often do with vigor when it’s broadcast.
put this mic to the test
time to set my soul at rest
things i need to say set me free
things i need to say i see
the microphone loomed up before him like an instrument of torture. he could feel his voice cowering at the back of his throat, his mouth dry, his tongue a huge, useless slug.
with this microphone i amplify my thoughts and emotions to the deafened people i call FAMILY. I ignite in them a burning fire by unveiling my deepest dreams, wishes, and aspirations, as unheard of as they may be….they will be heard…with this microphone…..
unnatural amplification through the use of modern technology
what has music come to when we can’t all sit around a campfire and sing songs
just kidding i’m not that much of a douchebag
i found the loophole though
‘=====O look its a microphone
micro, phone…. i understand the phone part, but its really not that small, right?
WEED?!
she sweats in the darkness, her blood thudding in her ears, a freight train running back and forth between her temples, her limbs numb to the touch. its now or never. she steps into the light, the silence deafening as she opens her mouth and begins to speak.
I cant whistle like you baby… its funny how u pull the guitar strings. its the goosebumb that brings me to live when i hear you sing , my crumple pie..
She sang. Her voice carried out over the crowd and the microphone amplified her voice. A sweet lullaby caressed each listener as she sang. each body swayed to her song.
Most use a microphone to have themselves heard. Wether through music, words, or what have you.. Microphone equals volume. Volume makes you heard. Spread your voice.
He grabbed the handle and stirred vigorously. Angry tears streaming down his face. Like beads of sweat. She wasn´t there on the corner waiting, like he´d thought. Ten days locked out with no food. She ought to be hungry by now. Where is that cat? The potatoes would be starchy this dinner.
singing a stage craig owens music warped tour beautiful voices opera justin is playing baseball right now and i have no idea what to say about a microphone its really hard but i really like music and justin is cheating and watching me write. wow now the time started over and i dont really know what im supposed to do. justin is about to win his baseball game. i know im supposed to be talking about a microphone but its a lot harder than it sounds. i guess i think about singing on a stage when i think of a microphone mostly. its a hard thing to think of though. weird.
i want to scream out my whole life story. turn the volume all the way up. let the world hear it. every detail, every embarrassing piece. but let me wear a mask, please.
the microphone is a tool used mainly by musician’s to sing and express themselves. that is the most common method but it is also used by politicians and speakers to bring key ideas out in the open. it’s a tool that unites people and lets people’s voices be heard. it demands attention that others might not normally get.
I step up. This has never been my forte or desire, but somehow I am inexorably drawn to it. I speak and hate the sound of my own voice coming through the speakers, but it’s all there is. Silence. The sound of 10,000 in silence to hear me is all I ever need.
it stood glaring at her. even under the burning lights she could feel it’s steely gaze and imposing presence. she grabbed it by it’s stem and took control. out of that contraption spewed love, anger and every insecurity you could imagine. it came out raw, and amplified. it lifted her up and it made her lighter. every single time.
She held onto the microphone like the edge of a cliff. Though she breathed quickly, it felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her body. Faces in the crowd blurred into one massive hostile body waiting for her to act, waiting for her to provoke it so it could attack. The microphone slipped out of her hand to the floor and the speakers thundered with the impact. An individual disentangled itself from the blurry monster and helped her off the stage as she mumbled apologies and thank yous and pleases and anything else that came to mind.
He grabbed the microphone and screamed into it with the furor of a man having finally found a voice after decades of it being stifled. What he said wasn’t important. To whom he said it to wasnt either. But the fact that he spoke into it; that was a miracle.
he held the microphone gasping for each breath as he tried to tell the crowd of the impending danger but how where they to listen when it was not even on the zombies had wiped out the power and now everyone was going to die in a post-apocalyptic frenzy.
I stand up beside it, and prepare to sing. My breath engages and I prepare to begin, but before I can get my cords to vibrate I realize I’ve already said and sung all that was needed.
It would be so much easier to say if I could just shout it out. It sounds too strange coming out of my mouth in just a whisper. “I love you.” I wish I had a microphone. These words would sound so much more real if they were amplified.
Allright. This was it. The big break.
Grabbing onto the microphone, I raised it slowly to my lips. I took a deep breath, stared into the audience…
and ran for my life.
The thing is, I don’t do crowds. I just don’t. I have terrible stage fright.
Each and every one of those people has their own opinions. Opinions of me. What right do they have to judge me? It doesn’t seem fair.
Backstage, I run to the nearest bathroom and conceal myself in a stall. I lift my legs up and pull them to my chest, to make sure nobody would be able to tell I was there. Luckily, the bathroom was empty when I came in. For now.
I’d have to come out sometime.
for singing like steven tyler and his big and classical microphone, or perhaps elvis presley stylish microphone, i don’t know its something like this
I think a microphone could be a symbol for music or sound. It is something that we invented in order to project and record our voices. I have slept with someone who had a microphone tattoo, but no taste for music or speech. How Ironic? A Microphone could be anything. You just have to speak to it first.
it makes everything in front of it seem significant, adding elegance too any err, simulating the effects of importance with its simple presence. they amplify more than just the sounds.
Standing on a stage, the spotlight comes down, blurs out the people in the crowds, the thousands, the millions. A hundred million more sparkling flashes, images coming through, surrounding me, enveloping me.