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Video poem voiceover required. (Art video)


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My name is Anthony and I am a writer/poet. I live in Australia and make video poems. I make not one cent out of them. However I am willing to pay you $10 for a voiceover. There might be a little back and forth as we get nuances right... but basically its a slow read with lots of pauses (or enough so I can edit). I have used women before but I think for this piece, I would like a male with a deep, serious sounding voice. (you can see why with the content). You can see previous poems here.


Here it is.. its not short so any questions pls feel free to ask prior if you like. Aside from small donation (10 US) I will provide yr name and site in the credits at the end. It will end up on youtube. And that's it.








Where the streets have no acclaim



I stroll on molested concrete

Burying sacred ground

Along with countless others

Concerned only with today’s odyssey

Tales of woe

Spattered with moments of joy

Yet hyped with the anticipation

Of a little more

Of that good thing.


The natural follow up

To our folly

Is disappointment

The spirit crushing awareness

Of the prominent mundane.


Yet despite our singular head space

The streets are awash with stories

In never ending flux

I want to believe

That I am not a mere drop

Of semen made self aware

Salt of the earth

Or lofty

Or impossible to pin down.


I stare at tram tracks

And think of past bicycle tracks

And four legged sojourns through dust and mud

That replaced bush and forest

That Eliminated centuries

And suppressed tribes

Once free to roam

Yet grounded in Belonging

They may be omitted now

But we are the fractured ones


Yet never more alone

With the rise and rise

Of the individual

Destined to fall

And fail

Washed out by neon

And wasted in the night

Fortified slabs

Reflecting our hollow bones

Sturdy yet flawed

Escaping ideologies

Heralding the cry of a thousand misspent dreams

From bleeding hearts

And a million more besides

Hiding in walls

And work

Lost in lust and booze

And flippancy and derision

Towers trivial

Fabrications Without meaning

Fighting inevitable cessation

Fighting death

Through irrelevancy

Through superficiality

So we dance among the pretty lights


There’s another day coming

At least, that’s the expectation

That we can make it right tomorrow



In the ever churning meantime

The earth

Waits dependably patient

To reclaim those flimsy structures

And fragile souls

We of the never satisfied

From the final fleeting charade.

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