Soft bubble gum fame,
the taste fades as the limelight flickers.
Erased the watercolors are muddled
with raindrops. This weathered canvas has taken
on a richer saturation, embellished by a
downpour.
Filthy pile of dexterity,
twisted into emotions of addiction
and attraction.
Tough tastes of trouble,
a hard shell built up
waiting to wither with a touch.
You’ve become so bubble gum famous.
Charm me, I’ve given all that I have.
Twirl me about make me shout,
it’s time for me to receive.
To Witness the fall of a gift given
leaves you hellbent to curse the world..
until it burns.
Worked all night redefined the ‘it factor’
again, refurbished by burnout.
Soft bubble gum fame,
the taste fades as the limelight flickers.
The plaster in Rick’s place was always flaking near the doorway,
eaten away by damp heat and cheap tobacco smoke
that hung like dirty lace off the cedar joists.
Back in the corner sat a stunted, yellowed box—
a five-octave upright slapped with salmon and faded gold,
its pedals worn down to raw, scuffed brass.
It wasn’t built for concert halls. Just a pine-cased crate
that smelled of spilled Cointreau and stale olive brine.
Heavy teak doors kept the street noise out,
but couldn’t block the shuffle of black-market transit papers
passing under the low oil lamps.
Then Sam laid his knuckles on the keys,
cracked ivory, half-sticking from the salt air,
and the room went dead quiet.
She stood in the entry, silk coat catching the light,
asking for that song from Paris
before the tanks rolled in.
Rick didn't yell. He just stopped dead in his tracks,
watching the smoke curl off his cigarette
where it rested on the edge of the wood.
“Play it,” he muttered, his voice flat as gravel,
and the little wooden box gave up the only thing it had left.
Fearsome, was I; a model saint
Forged in anonymity and shadows
Fastidious in dawn’s prayer closet
Fragrance of fragapani and myrrh
Forgettable, forsaken; a sinner
Famous in the Book of Life
Forever, Christ’s wings lift me, breathlessly
You stalk me through the flashing haze,
your shutter catching all my ways;
I pose like I'm not keeping score,
but crave the click, then beg for more.
You linger where the shadows bend,
my secret rival, closest friend;
your lens undresses every truth,
I glow for you, eternal youth.
You chase me down the midnight street,
I slow my stride so we might meet;
your breath behind me, warm and near,
a whispered fame I long to hear.
We orbit in a fevered spin,
you want my world, I want your grin;
obsession twines us, tight and bright,
two silhouettes in borrowed light.
So take your shot, my favorite view.
I shine because you're watching too.
famous
popular, celebrated
enchanting, captivating, alluring
actor, supermodel, homemaker, farmer
conforming, blending, mingling
faceless, commonplace
unknown
Red Skelton, they say,
Gave laughs away every day.
As Gertrude and Heathcliff,
he’d squawk and he’d stare,
Leaving feathers and giggles all over the air.
Oh, scorched cathedral of the desert floor,
Where purple shadows stretch across the sand.
The sun retreats behind the Dragoon peaks,
Leaving its fire to cool upon the land.
Behold the Corral, hushed in evening’s light,
Where lead once sang a song of sudden death;
The echoes of the thirty seconds’ roar.
Still seem to catch the frantic, fiery breath.
And there, upon the ridge where cactus bloom,
The wooden crosses tilt in that stony soil;
Old Boot Hill, where the weary rest entombed,
Freed from the bullet and bitter, silver toil.
Ah, Tombstone, a town too tough to fade,
You wear the twilight like a tattered shroud;
A monument to every choice once made,
Beneath the lonely, drifting desert cloud.
In velvet umbra burns a hallowed flame,
As ghosts rise and shadows find their fame.
How do idioms come to be?
Did one friend
on one day
tell the other
about the strange feeling they felt
in their upper intestine after
they heard one shoe drop,
and waited for the other?
And then did this friend respond by saying:
"Yes, I feel that way too, how remarkable,"
with the pair of pals
telling another pair,
who then told another pair,
until everyone was talking about shoes?
Or is it something more cosmic?
Is it genetic?
Is there something encoded in our blood
and cholesterol that whispers to us,
urging we reference footwear
when we feel our arteries throb with anxiety?
And how many times does one person
have to say one thing for
it to become metaphor?
Exactly how famous does somebody need to be
for their very life history to become canon?
When we look back on the famous who's-who
of past centuries,
how many of them were remembered purely by
the weight of their name?
And how many were forgotten the second
dirt hit their coffin?
How many phrases have we forgotten because we didn't say them enough?
“To my unbounded sorrow,”
said the famous Nostradamus,
“the gods are out to harm us.
I won’t make it to tomorrow.”
He died that very night.
At least he got one thing right!
well more than before
according to here
people who read me
ten times more than before
that means I am great
10x greater than yesterday
where are my cheques?
comments and applause
Taylor swift, even she is like wow
oh sorry
sweetie
its all a fraud
I am just a fat loud cow
destined for stardom
I appear on local news
rollers in my hair
THE FAMOUS ACORN HEIST OF ‘23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a squirrel named Hank,
Who rode on a Harley, quite swank.
To the food bank he quickly sped,
With a heist planned in his head,
For acorns, he thought he could prank.
He zoomed past the trees with a whoop and cheer.
His goggles and scarf made it most clear.
He burst through the door with a grin.
“Just a snack for my ride, no break in.
Not to worry. I won’t harm you. Have no fear.”
Ahh, but the food bank staff were quite astute
They were wise to his ridiculous, nutty pursuit.
The joke was on our furry friend,
For the food bank, they send,
Hank home with a bag of healthy fruit!
M-angoes
A-re
R-ipe,
Y-ielding
G-olden
R-ichness
A-nd
C-harming
E-legance
©bfa060725
Monocrostic (Birthday of Mary Grace P. Bernardino)
So many people try for the good life
Along protecting that little bit of light
Trying feels just like twisting your own knife
Although you know you cannot help but try
You keep going and hope for a miracle
And all you have left is to just try
Speaking your efforts would be lyrical
Don't doubt yourself or make your life a lie
If you believe you better go all the way
Some think that you needn't try to succeed
But dreams do not come true the easy way
Believe hope is definitely a need
Striving, succeeding, least of all fame
Have hope and try but don't do it all for fame
I wrote a documentary
that would have won a BAFTA
But nobody would fund it
It was not what they were afta
I pitched the plot to Netflix
cuz they have a lot of money
They sent me packing, laughing
“Don’t call us, we’ll call you, Sonny”
I lastly pitched to Paramount
hoping they’d save the day
They took one look at me
shook their head and said, “No way!”
It’s such a shame that no one knows
your worth unless you’re famous
I always seek some solace from
those cookies made by Amos …
Famous (yummy) Amos (yummy)
“Makes your eyes light up (and)
Your tummy say ‘Howdy.’”
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