The Uncelebrated

the walking wo/man in the crowd who protests the wrongs of the place in which s/he lives will never be heard of again & the wo/man in the factory who labors to feed her/his family & tries to stay afloat will never be heard of again & the wo/man in the school who teaches the children even the most rudimentary of skills to get by in the machine will never be heard of again & the wo/man in the hospital who deals with the sick day in & day out trying to keep your wretched self alive will never be heard of again & the fireman who rescue you from a burning building when you couldn’t get out on your own will never be heard of again & the person who stops the killing arm of someone out to end you via a robbery or a mugging will never be heard of again--- but the celebrities that parade in their diamond studded glitz & drive the gas guzzling monsters rolling so uniquely special in their own right, with their european mastery in carving just what you like if you’ve got enough, with the sun glasses & the 100% of the time photogenic, scientologist, talk shown, nevergonnahavetoworryboutnothinnevernohow face straddling our mutual (and only) reality, walk about every day with their name on your lips--- because you’re just ready at the drop of the hat to talk about what they had for breakfast & what they are gonna do when the superbowl happens & what their baby looks at now at the age of 3.