Was a small town girl,
With big city views.
Gained a reputation,
On the front page news.
Met a rich young man,
While serving hors d'oeuvres.
She noticed his smile,
He admired her curves.
She was born dirt-poor,
He topped the A-list.
They slipped out back,
For a moonlight tryst.
A heavy kiss first,
Then the garments dropped.
No sooner began,
When the flashbulbs popped.
Blinded by the lights,
And caught unaware.
An eager press core,
Took shots of the pair.
Little did she know,
This senator's son.
Running for position,
Like his father had done.
Crowned a tabloid queen,
In the blink of an eye.
Made her friends all laugh,
And her parents cry.
Everybody in town,
Wants to know her name.
Now they chase her down,
As she hides in shame.
With no repercussions,
For the senator's son.
Daddy payed through the nose,
For the office he won.
A sad twist of fate,
Nobody would choose.
That poor little girl,
Got the D.C. Blues.
Categories:
flashbulbs, boy, city, fate, girl,
Form: Rhyme
If Paris Hilton wrote poetry
her poems would be smart, not dumb
They would not skim the surface
of her glam life
recount her escapades
but dig deep into her isolation
They would employ complex ideas
sophisticated diction
unusual images
She could easily be Mrs Dalloway
beyond her socialite persona
or Emma, with that dignified gaze
There's depth in those blue eyes
gleaming under the flashbulbs
Categories:
flashbulbs, celebrity,
Form: Free verse
An actor returns to his Beverly Hills mansion –
blows his brains out with a 38 special.
I must have dozed off,
cops at my door,
a line of chain-smoking flashbulbs
in baggy turn-ups.
I watch myself being taken away in a body bag.
The movie is badly spliced.
Black Packard’s keep morphing into flying saucers.
We are all wearing hats,
even the writers in the backroom
are wearing wide-brimmed hats.
The women are wearing hats.
They wear pencil thin skirts,
and talk out of the side of their mouths.
A screen flickers;
a skinny man behind an obscuring microphone
apologizes for the delay.
Meanwhile, space aliens have landed in Brooklyn,
and are exterminating people in hats.
It’s a radio show hoax,
but I don’t know that –
until I wake-up
into a world filled with terror and chaos,
there are no aliens and few brimmed hats.
I can’t sleep.
Categories:
flashbulbs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
An actor returns to his Beverly Hills mansion –
blows his brains out with a 38 special.
I must have dozed off,
cops at my door,
a line of chain-smoking flashbulbs
in baggy turn-ups.
I watch myself being taken away in a body bag.
The movie is badly spliced.
Black Packard’s keep morphing into flying saucers.
We are all wearing hats,
even the writers in the backroom
are wearing wide-brimmed hats.
The women are wearing hats.
They wear pencil thin skirts,
and talk out of the side of their mouths.
A screen flickers;
a skinny man behind an obscuring microphone
apologizes for the delay.
Meanwhile, space aliens have landed in Brooklyn,
and are exterminating people in hats.
It’s a radio show hoax,
but I don’t know that –
until I wake-up
into a world filled with terror and chaos,
but there are no aliens and few brimmed hats.
I check that my Glock is loaded.
I can’t sleep.
Categories:
flashbulbs, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
they talk incessantly of flashbulbs
rickety stories, anchorless
friends are geometries
everytime they sit
in an isosceles triangle
two or more persons
form a conspiracy
the tongue is a genie
smuggling, plotting, spying
friendship, brinksmanship, companionship
all ships are enclosed in bottles
Categories:
flashbulbs, friendship,
Form: Free verse
Sunday morning tempted me out to the beach
As the sun tumbled down its' white warmth
Splashing glisters of light on the near flat water;
Paparazzi pools of a million flashbulbs.
The morning of the last day of the weekend
Tipping point between relaxation and drudgery
Hours of indulgence line up for their embrace;
Hip pockets of foreboding at their climax.
Early morning dog-walkers greet huskily
Willingly trapped in the endless cycle of pet love
A petrol blue Labrador bunkers about;
Unleaded freedom amongst the beach grass.
Turning, the old train line left-frames the scene
Coarse grass yields to sand and sea
Near distant the old village shop and pub;
Blytonesque imagery from my childhood.
Returning home to my lazy Sunday brunch
Coherent and intelligible thought pervades
Deliberations on tomorrows' toil dissipate
As I resolve to live in todays' jigsaw piece.
Categories:
flashbulbs, happiness, life, time,
Form: Free verse
There's parting of a frantic sea, to catch a glimpse, on bended knee
They nonchalantly steal a piece of privacy, consuming more,
assuming poise, among the noise
whenever posed upon her door
How must it be, to be the queen?
To sit so high upon a throne?
With no remorse of deed or thought
to slice her thin, and spill her name, upon the royal carpet fame
The horses trot, the carriage rides, the palace square, the heir abides
How is it there upon the throne, is it lonely at the top?
Beneath the crown upon her head, they watch her wave behind the smile.
The flashbulbs light the milky way
while voices scream among the fray. Does the shouting ever stop?
Does the room feel cold from on the throne? Is it lonely at the top?
She's guided by an elbow's charm, disarmed, by tabloids, all alone.
There is mystery behind the door, the secrets of her universe
Is there more to bear than we can see, adored by all, but all alone
Is it lonely on the throne?
---------------------------------------------------------------
5/29/15
For Contest Sponsored by Judy Konos
"Long Live The Queen"
Categories:
flashbulbs, people, woman, universe,
Form: Rhyme
let's take a look at the beginning
wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone
wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown
wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone
n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping
fast forward to the here n now
to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow
to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak
to how ur opinions r published week after week
who wlda thot that dis was all id take
a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake
sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out
those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt
u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool
its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool
n honestly hon who u tryna fool
so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips
n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips
u knw ur worth more han wat uv become
but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun
but we both know hon..it's only just begun...
Categories:
flashbulbs, urban,
Form: I do not know?
let's take a look at the beginning
wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone
wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown
wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone
n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping
fast forward to the here n now
to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow
to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak
to how ur opinions r published week after week
who wlda thot that dis was all id take
a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake
sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out
those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt
u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool
its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool
n honestly hon who u tryna fool
so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips
n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips
u knw ur worth more han wat uv become
but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun
but we both know hon..it's only just begun...
Categories:
flashbulbs, urban,
Form: I do not know?
Flashbulbs light the darkened mind
While pictures focus sharp and true
To capture there, what’s hard to find
To hold it strong, that part of you
Forever then to own the rights
To hold you close upon dreams night
Within the realm of nighttime dreams
You’re never far, but close to me
Where we so bask by yonder streams
As fields of green are all we see
And in this mind, you’re mine to keep
At least for now, this time I sleep
Categories:
flashbulbs, fantasy
Form: Rhyme
She stands, hallowed in sunlight, no, limelight
Waving manicured hands at screaming fans
Smiling at the flashbulbs
Empty eyes not really seeing
Empty mind not really comprehending
Empty heart constanlty weeping.
Categories:
flashbulbs, angst, loss, sad, satire,
Form: Free verse