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Celebrity Dreamscapes

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Recently I found an ancient story that in an oblique, yet arguably metaphoric way, addresses our fame-crazed society today and the illusory temptation to find an available feast to gorge on. Barmecide, a wealthy Persian, who, in a tale of The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, invited a beggar to a feast on imaginary food. Such are the limits of celebrity, when it becomes one’s primary goal over excellence in achievement.

Celebrity Dreamscapes Washington Wall Street Hollywood Nashville Where regurgitation overflows And Barmecidal bait boxes Morph their delights by the hour All the while Gluttony's promised feast Ignorant of cyclic famine Awaits the pernicious fate-agent Scouting to burrow like a weevil The new crop of innocence Trusting destiny to the winds of chance Confident redolent success smells French perfume Garlic enhanced delicacies Fresh tanned leather of opulent travel Are theirs to have How fragrant the illusory air becomes The temperature of anticipated fortune's shift Where once a round-shouldered indigent freshman pounded doors Now seemingly triumphant Unknowingly erect as a naked rose stem With yesterday's portent of rich reward Rapidly sheds its petals Mulch for tomorrow's next planting How fleeting the enigmatic feast of notoriety Time's incumbent qualification For re-introducing innate principals Cautioning today's attention Is but a requisite for tomorrow's elusive truth Yet Fearful of fruitless coming years Too few embrace cognizance over Fading Klieg lightsParty snubs Absent red carpet entrances A maître d's forgetfulness Yes The harvesting of one's experience Might suffer drought and winds Scattering past efforts To but memories of dust Rather than priceless benchmarks To reveal the authentic self Yes Such a disposition may well make "Being" difficult and distant Where the "take a number and be seated" readout at DMV May well become a feared test Where waiting Becomes a ticking-off-process Asking if one can hold onto the simpler distant past Those surprising coming-of-age sensations The first time rewards of libations' survival The generous thank you once felt by the first kiss And yes... One's elation upon receiving that first driver's license We think We review We ponder "what price" aspiration Ambition So often blind to trickery Frequently stumbles upon start marks Not meant to be Distant finishing lines Not meant to be reached Still One can take a number And eventually hear one's name called To be who you are... Or not

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Shattered Sighs