fame walk
star mock
sand bar
sea star
five limbs
five glims
tube feet
replete
feed on
plankton
plankton
hang ten
landed
stranded
off shore
dry sore
starfish
wet wish
sun lights
last rites
bit dust
star crust
high tide
revived
swell waves
God saves
As i consider, posterity and the multiverse
Of titular? Though my efforts be known as un-dignified, it observe at the very least they may become signified.'
famous
popular, celebrated
enchanting, captivating, alluring
actor, supermodel, homemaker, farmer
conforming, blending, mingling
faceless, commonplace
unknown
Each longs to obtain
fifteen minutes of fame.
Pawns in play,
simpleton on display.
Farcical amusement
from slapstick humans.
Spectacles in a petri dish,
slaves to their lavishments.
Analyzed and watched—
spare no expense… at what cost?
A muse for their “entertainment,”
to be the fodder at their "banquet."
Plans to steal, kill, and destroy—
bartering your soul to deploy.
Creating the pandemonium;
whence comes regurgitated solutions?
Governed by the unseen legion,
sheeple blinded by fabricated freedom.
That fifteen minutes of wantingness
now seeks solitude… and will find none.
Stardom beams, ascends,
thin arms lit in show-time glare—
fame salts fragile skin.
applause hardens inside out
talent burns bright, then burns out.
Replays harken back
success narrows its focus
to reclaim heaped praise.
inspiration in tatters,
worn out by adulation
Tall poppies are cut,
brittle star loses its arms
pulls back, swells its head
drunk on self-adulation—
it's well past its use-by-date.
In my life I may as they say
have accomplished a thing or two
but I've not made the mark
I so dearly wished to do
altho' having trod the boards
where mighty giants once stood
the rug was always pulled out
in many a good neighbourhood
never had it made in the shade
fame and fortune eluded me
a one-man band on parade
anonymity included me
sailing off into the sunset
is not quite the right thing to do
nor is going down with the ship
in the yonder wild blue
and yet if my get up and go
has not got up and gone
I'd like once more to bring it on
before fading away into oblivion
Seventy five millions and later
She finds no soul at the theatre.
A flop show at its worst,
Rebuff, Trump bubble burst,
Not whatso getting any better.
Money buys no prestige
Nor status builds a bridge
What else when ego bloats, gets fatter.
_______________________
Happenings | 06.02.2026 | fame/prestige, hate, humour, money, USA, limerick
Note: Trump might go down the history as the most hated president. He is hated not only world over, but in his own country as well. Note this: Out of $ 75 million Amazon paid (40 for the rights, plus 35 for the marketing blitz) for the documentary on Melania Trump, is expected to fetch hardly one million. It sold just one ticket in hundred cinemas across UK.
There is no time, yet a clock ticks;
Break the rhythm—that's the trick.
See the poetic truth: tomorrow never comes,
Don't starve your soul while you settle for crumbs.
We chase the status, the money, the fame,
While true connection is brushed off as lame.
Look up, dear souls, from your glass-walled bowl,
Before the silence takes its final toll.
There is no time, yet a clock ticks;
While we chase the future, our own coffin clicks.
PROVEN TRUE by: Morrison Jr.
The days before night rolled in.
Villagers gather a lonely roam to rivers edge.
Screams from within.
Fame is just a flame that burns.
Lasting results seem uncertain.
Life has ruined the man in me.
Friends have become as fictional character.
Please let me in.
The Doors of perception have proven true.
I won’t die this way. (Jim Morrison Jr.)
"I wouldn't be a songwriter if it wasn't for books that I loved as a kid.
I think that when you can escape into a book it trains your imagination to think big and to think that more can exist than what you see." – Taylor Swift
When the world falls still.
When day is done, left behind.
When pages instill
magical words in her mind,
new worlds she begins to find.
Stories spring to fore
as fairies spread stars' delight.
Something strikes her core
and flickers throughout the night
in reflective candlelight.
Before dawn arrives.
Before candle loses flame.
She lives divers lives,
travels worlds both wild and tame.
Reading's her gateway to fame.
Ephemeral winger's
Success in the present;
For honour's timeless mention
Is fixated on.
Yes, the world around, heard
Yes, as deeply inscribed.
On winds, coldest, leaves blow away!
On plaque where leaves decay!
Fame and football
This morning, a British newspaper read
On the net, a news item was written about a family
called Beckham, a son who wanted to leave
and find his own way
I thought the story was irrelevant and fit as
a news item
The Tv evening news in Portugal showed
the same story, with photos of members
of the afflicted family; one can say it was
a banal story that often happens in families
and often get solved by time, and why would
That story interests viewers in Portugal
It has later been pointed out to me that
A Beckham was a famous footballer married
to a woman who used to be on TV.
Fame is like a red wine spot on a carpet
It takes years to rinse off and get on with life
He thought he was a star
When he got a little fame
"Andy Warhol's fifteen minutes came."
As he flickered in illusion's jar
Many women flocked to his starry glow
As his wife played second fiddle
Then his lovers solved the riddle
And that was the end of the show
He was just a firefly in fame's vast universe
and of course, it showed
His star began to implode
As it orbited in reverse
Soon that star will fall from the sky
For stardom is a fickle game
You can watch those fifteen minutes of fame
Burning up as it goes by
Oh name
a field of endless contest,
where men trade peace for position
and exhaust their breath to remain above.
Pressed by hunger,
ruled by desire,
they push beyond their portion
for applause,
for approval,
for the fleeting music
of their name spoken by men.
Yet hear this, dear friend:
your name may never be carved
on the walls this world so admires.
You may walk unknown,
unannounced by crowds,
uninvited to the feasts of honor.
The crowns of men may pass you by,
their trophies never rest in your hands.
For the praise of earth is fleeting
they shout when you rise,
and fall silent when you fall.
But God is not like man.
He does not forget.
In His remembrance there is no erasing,
and in His Hall of Fame
a single name is written forever
by faith in His Son.
I tell you plainly:
I would not trade my name, however small.
It is written beyond the stars,
sealed in a kingdom that cannot fade.
Let others boast in fame and borrowed glory,
in honors that time will surely dust away.
As for me,
I choose to be unknown on earth
if my name is known above.
For better is a name remembered by God
than a thousand praises lost to time.
My rock group was getting stale
We no longer drew the fans
So I told my sad tale
To a public relations man
He gave me this advice:
"There's only one way to the light
Avoid the image of 'nice."
Let your inner demon take flight.
So we drove my car off a cliff in Malibu
Jumped out first, watched it dive
Made sure a camera man knew
Struck a pose with a high five.
I attended a posh party at night
Slapped my wife, who played the part
sniffed white powder, picked a fight
They rolled me out in a hospital cart.
I set fire to my guitar on stage
Firemen had been called, just in case
They sprayed me with a hose, I feigned rage
Yelled obscenities, got in their face.
But the fans would not return
Now I was without a car and a guitar
Plus dentist bills, no money to burn
Sold the mansion, no more a star.
I went back to my hometown
Helped an old lady walk where the street was wide
Cameras flashed, reporters took it down
that "Bad boy Jennings" had a good side!
Now the fans fill up my halls
It came as a total surprise
Now I've learned when the limelight calls
To be myself, no need for disguise.
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