Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Box office draw! 
What Louie B. had in mind.
Dollar signs for him and all the others,
but not for you, sweetheart.

After all, music was the ultimate whore!
And for the sake of timing...
the rhythm of your own heart 
would, ultimately, bleed.

But who could understand 
the roots...
of your own, underlying, psychological motivations
for your performance!

And how many know 
and are acquainted with that gene?
To make you scared 
on wits end,
more than scarecrow, himself.

The wicked witch
would have her way
to terrify you...
beyond all imagination!

And what about your own nerves...
you put to work, 
on stage, 
with all your rage?

Your audience will tell you.
They cheered you on to your own demise,
from your shyness...
and an over-bearing mother.

Overwhelmed with all of this,
why not just go ahead
and jump...
or, at least, take the ride?

Better than a broomstick!


Born with that same gene,
why not choose the fantasy?
If only for the sake of knowing,
that incredible need to escape.

Would there be any other alternative, 
to see the forest from the trees?
To see reality from our own experience, 
for what it is?

Finding the perfect fit in Culver City 
seemed the answer, for a while.
Home at last, all in a dream...
to never, never-land.

Off to see the Wizard
of make-believe...
and suddenly,
you were let go!

You were trapped
in your own skin...
but you would win,
time and time again.

Until the ultimate fate,
beyond belief.
Your time was up!

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