Best Fifteen Minutes Of Fame Poems
(A Co-worker)
Stop hatin' on me you ole crow,
Why don't you give me what you owe-
Me and that is respect you old coot,
Don't you know that I know that crows
Only pick at the best fruit,
It's as if you can see my future better than I can,
That is why you are acting like a twisted fan,
All out of control and down right vindictive,
Usually that kind of behavior is indicative,
Of someone who is jealous hearted and bitter,
Misery loves company and baby sitters,
I wish you would quit slandering my name,
You have had your fifteen minutes of fame,
Stop hatin' on me you ole coot,
Don't you know that I know that crows
Only pick at the best fruit.
( … if you catch me doing one of these.)
Naming any baby Finton,
voting for Hillary Clinton,
complimenting Nascar,
moving to Nebraska,
using "literally" to mean "very",
calling Derry Londonderry,
uttering the word "redact",
claiming Johnny Depp can act,
saying society's to blame,
mentioning fifteen minutes of fame,
feeling sorry for Amanda Knox,
watching anything on Fox,
or even one second of Jerry Springer,
making speech marks with my fingers,
drinking alcohol alone,
admiring Sharon Stone,
labelling anyone a pagan,
sighing "bring back Ronald Reagan",
playing Rod Stewart's "We Are Sailing",
paying money to see Van Halen ...
(and if ever, instead of clever,
I say smart,
I promise to wear -
right there -
a target across my heart.)
Traffic Jam Slam
Who dresses them up and puts them in cars
gives them their keys as they leave the bars
these drivers who sit at the red light and grin
preachers out practicing Sunday’s big sin.
Somehow they think we can’t see inside
as they dig in their noses and ogle with pride
something they found that they should probably hide.
She’s putting on make-up, He’s combing his hair
the kids in the back seat wish they weren’t there.
As the light changes they make that left –SLASH
while plucking the last of their graying eyelash.
They’re texting at red lights so they tend to linger
and when you disturb them they give you the finger.
Then there are those who ride on their bikes
who haven’t matured since they fell off their trykes,
riding on sidewalks and running stop signs
dressing in outfits that require fines.
Who leaves the slow people alone on the street
stuck in the crosswalk – rush hour - dead meat.
Now we have turkeys and the Canada Goose
invading the country, just plain running loose
crossing the highways, honking at us
and if you should hit one – oh what a fuss
PETA will come with a camera and crew,
let the whole world get a good look at you.
So put on your make-up and straighten that hair
your fifteen minutes of fame is frighteningly near.
For SKAT A slam the slam contest
John G. Lawless
5/31/2014
First person shooter,
on a hate tour of duty,
swinging a bullet sling blade
Buying a death row ticket,
worth fifteen minutes of fame
First person murder shooter;
womb-to-the-cradle-to-the-grave robber,
using your Automatic Revolver
to solve your anti-social mental problems
Sharpen that sling blade
on a coroner grindstone wheel
Gather the scythe-shredded corpses
from the harvest killing field
Take the bullet-riddled body bags,
with warm blood dripping still ...
and kevlar
coffin
bury them on Tommy Gun hill
Guns and Roses —
Automatic Revolver 15 bullet salute
Let the gun pallbearers put ‘em in the ground,
and the saltpeter pew mourners
put the rose flowers on the graves
AR-15 bullet salute ...
Guns and Roses —
giving society another senseless violence eulogy
Guns and Roses —
weapons of war killing innocent children of peace
Guns and Roses —
ricochet death purchased with capitalist ease
No background check to vet tranquilize
the uncaged rage,
wearing a Second Amendment disguise
Empty thoughts and prayers,
full of politician hypocrisy
Thirty pieces of silver tongue lip-cluckers
offering a gun lobby: no gun control policy
A paid, no-money-back Judas apology
Snake oil teary talk rubbed on dry soul skin,
allergen empathy-free
Guns and Roses —
sacred shell religious philosophy
Guns and roses —
kinetic death violence theology
Gun manufacture worshipers
love deifying the work of their hands
They love to praise their golden trigger head
silver handle arms
brass chamber belly
lead barrel legs
paper green toes idol
Saying: Let your scimitar banana-shaped heart
always remain sharp
And may your lead scythe sling blade soul
never be dulled
Guns and roses —
waxy ears don’t hearst hear it ...
bulletproof hearts so iceberg smoking cold
Guns and roses —
plastic carnation petal spirits ...
metal detector salvation black market sold
“Tweedle, my dear, are you Dee or Dum?”
“I’m neither Dum nor Dee, but Doo, you see”
“I’ve never heard of Doo; of the Tweedles that is”
“Well I’m Doo, and I do say so to you”
“For I am the third offspring of the Tweedles
I don’t like needles or crunchy beetles
Though I do like toffee much better than coffee
And I love to scuba while playing the tuba”
“The twins, Dum and Dee, often forget about me
They are like one mind, body, and soul you see
They tease as they please and cause me to sneeze
With tricks up their sleeves, they don’t eat their peas”
“No stories of me you’ll ever read
Yes, indeed, I am the bad seed in need
Of a normal home, a pocket comb, a friend that is
not a garden gnome
To love me is easy, not cheesy or leaving you
feeling queasy”
“Dee and Dum had their fifteen minutes of fame
Now my name, Tweedle the same, I’ve got no shame
This Tweedle Doo begs of you, not to bid him an adieu
I am yours, open your doors, I promise not to snore”
“I am never Dum or Dee, just me
Little brother Doo wants to come home with you
I’ll always be a Tweedle who doesn’t like needles
But love you forever this younger Doo will do”
Pop Idol
Milk the applause, savour the day;
You only have thirty seconds left,
Of your fifteen minutes of fame.
Another band falls off the conveyor belt;
It’s time for you to be replaced, by another covers band.
Another wanna-bee, another piece of human trash;
Who simply follows the money.
In search of their star, in the music hall of fame.
Do you seriously think, you can last the pace?
And make another album that sells like your first?
You naïve fool, that’s what they call consumerism
And you’re definitely not, a new sensation.
You’re just another advertisement;
For their hit T.V. show, with the losers and the freaks.
Don’t you realize you’re only a star of car crash T.V.?
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
He died for freedom and the righteous cause of liberty.
He gave up his own life so others could enjoy liberty.
"OOH What a lucky man he was. OOH What a lucky man
he was.....Nobody could save him so he laid down and he died."***
The Short Story.*** "Oh What a Lucky Man he was."***
He died alone with no freedom fighters at his side. He fought
against slavery and oppression and to help liberate his fellow man.
But he was just another human, and an ordinary man. He was not
a professional solder or a police man. He witnessed danger around
him so he sacrificed his life for his fellow woman.
He died in an dark and dangerous ally way, trying the save
the life and the virtue of a young woman. Vicious hoodlums
instantly attacked and knifed him. The earth cried out in pain,
as it received the life blood of a young and noble man. Their
attackers also murdered the young woman, after robbing her
of her virtue!
A few days later their bodies were discovered by the police women and
the police man. He was given a hero's funeral for the courageous way
he died. He wasn't a pillar of the community, he was not important nor
gainfully employed. If the facts be made known, he was unemployed.
He never held a job in his entire young life. He was a drifter and a loner.
He lived and died a John Doe and she also lived and died as a Jane Doe. They enjoyed their fifteen minutes of fame upon their untimely demise. The law enforcement community and the family of the young woman mourned
their wasted young lives! The hoodlums were apprehended by the law.
But they did not repent of their dastardliness deeds. They held no remorse
at all. How many other victims' did they stab with their knives?
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
October 05, 2020
***This is a fictional short story.
keep that low-profile my little one
sky is contaminated
with fat black spots
their weightiness is gonna be dropped
on everything known
eyes are drained
turned to glass
it remains incomprehensible
what have you done
and
who's sending those metal birds
engineering shadows
over your
stuffed animal keepers
keep that low-profile
they are on rescue mission
playing mini golf
with calculation
how to convert your misery
in fifteen minutes of fame
their perception is detoured
just keep that low-profile
whole nation
sent on the road
fragmented into
disdained ethnic particles
soon they'll be fighting over conveniently flagged stamps
revitalising otherness
another Shoah
has been set on the scene
no one is left
to call them a mother
to name them a father
to recognize them as a brother
no one
but you
keep that low profile
maybe someone will have civility
to collect your
crumbled parts
the way you're collecting
that bread crumbs
on tormented path of your shelled being
keep that low profile my child
While waiting for my ship to come in
Others got to it first by going for a swim
While waiting for opportunity to knock
It was met in front of my door by a hungrier flock
While waiting for my fifteen minutes of fame
Others got noticed by not playing this game
If I want good things to happen to me
I guess I should pursue them more aggressively
I could,
Get caught in the pouring rain,
Swim secretly down the Seine,
Find fifteen minutes of fame,
Rush to catch the last train,
And fall in love again?
I could.
When Moby became famous
Because of the book
He decided to go
For the Hollywood look
He was living the dream
With fast cars and loose women
With a pool full of champagne
In which he could swim in
At a book signing one day
Someone scoffed at his weight
That was the moment
That decided his fate
After looking in the mirror
Moby decided to diet
Despite all the warnings
It would be best not to try it
Now the papers are plastered
With pictures of poor old Dick
Looking like a skeleton
Rumor is, Moby's sick
A giant of the seas
That was once his home
But take a look at him now
He’s all skin and bone
He was spotted at a museum
Cold and alone
Standing around looking
Like a huge xylophone
Alas Moby Dick
Has only himself to blame
He let his ego run wild
During his fifteen minutes of fame
I could,
Get caught in the pouring rain,
Swim secretly down the Seine,
Find fifteen minutes of fame,
Rush to catch the last train,
And fall in love again?
I could.
If i had a million dollars
every three months
and my job was to spend it on awards for those
who do random acts of kindness and good deeds
unknownst to them they are about to be rewarded
i would take pride in my work
Soo what some Hollywood actor won the same prise as they did last year
and i saw them in fifteen movies that sucked
but this
this is for everyday people
not a radio show of how many worms you eat
but me handing out awards
to those worthy of an award in the communities around us
many can apply, but you need all the proof
I will need lawyers involved to verify these claims are true
perhaps letter after letter could be investigated
or hey maybe even if instead of studying the community to see how generous it
was
what if someone opened the door for you and they got an award for door opening
and a prise!
thats right folks
just by living your life and being nice
my prize patrol which is set off only when you pull off the secret surprise holiday
that the riddle of the music industry and movies challenges society to pull off
then money bags comes out with his prize patrol
and the surprise holiday of
door openings for each other
house buildings
letters written to others worthy of being recognized wether it be for writing, pottery,
or just plain common decency
and the object of the game is to pull of the secret group effort
the music and media persuades in the music
near an existing holiday for points, or around a time when it is needed
so I'll need a bank
i don't think society can pull off
what id have music ask them do
and then if they did
my awards and prise patrol
and no one would know
because it would all be covered up in the holiday magic
but yet
it would be all over the newspaper
and the television
instead of watching the same fifty brilliant actors slurr the next sentence they
don't mean
nor care for as they slave away
and they are eligible for the same awards as everyone else
There Einstein
If i had 4 million dollars a year
at least
id take you all on one heck of a ride
but you better think twice
and you better be nice
or money bags will give you fifteen minutes of fame
but you have to earn your award
your prise
and your fifteen minutes of fame somehow
Pure evil appeared in that Uvalde, Texas classroom
Dressed in the blue jeans of a typical teenager,
Or was the AK-15 the evil that brought such doom
On either, I suppose, a rational person might wager.
Dressed in the blue jeans of a typical teenager
A mere boy influenced, perhaps, by a video game
On either, I suppose, a rational person might wager
I think we’ll never know exactly what was to blame.
A mere boy influenced, perhaps, by a video game
Was his anger directed at his fourth-grade teacher?
I think we’ll never know exactly what was to blame,
What turned him into this despicably evil creature.
Was his anger directed at his fourth-grade teacher?
He killed 19 children; he didn’t even know their name
What turned him into this despicable, evil creature?
Was he merely seeking his fifteen minutes of fame?
He killed 19 children; he didn’t even know their name
May history blot out his name, may it never be known
Was he merely seeking his fifteen minutes of fame?
May journalists swear that his face never be shown.
May history blot out his name, may it never be known
Or was the AK-15 the evil that brought such doom?
May journalists swear that his face never be shown
Pure evil appeared in that Uvalde, Texas classroom!
Written May 29, 2022
there is a message from that of Warhol explaining every one can have their 15 minutes...
Reaching toward the point of reaching famous out of the realms of kindness..
Warhol had let us to believe that we can be at ease...,
instead of concentrating on building a wall
one should choose to live by faith
in many changes to the extreme
our soul succeed in the gentle within
Cast forth the election many are buried in heroin
flames of the atmosphere all wish to agree
There is a tremendous table of whispers beneath the stolen bars
stay in the simple breath during your residence...,
we can humbly guide through the notion of brass buy a horse that turns into an ass
George Carlines' Hippy Dippie weather man getting closer to the end of the exam
build a castle in the sky
Words get interupted in the theatre of pain:
Let me be the first to explain,
there are souls that are corrupt
other way of keeping a hush
tempted
come taste of the wine
free each other blind
clean from a Soviet climb