Long Marilyn monroe Poems
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She wasn’t crazy about the insipid
platinum blondes she was asked
to play, sop to buffoons,
goddess too merciful to see
she could turn them to ashes,
or orangutans with a murmured spell.
Her last film was The Misfits:
written by her husband: a woman
in pigtails and jeans, frank
and naive, blind to the effect
she has on cowboys as lost
as she. She finds them trapping
defiant mustangs, and fights
them off, before they can break
another soul. In The Seven Year Itch
she straddles a subway grate, steam
lifting her skirt like the hot breath
of a Minotaur or drooling neighbor.
In Some Like it Hot she plays ukulele
in a women’s band, crossing paths
with two musicians, disguised
as ladies. She’s done with guys
who squander her money
on the ponies, and other girls.
Sleeping that first night
on the train, the bass player climbs
into the upper bunk, drunk
on enchantment. He wishes her
goodnight. Goodnight, Honey,
she replies, in that whispery
way, softer than moonlight.
For that moment, this
orphan of the world
splurges without caution,
warmth impossible
to find. In that astonishing
instant, gone before we know,
actual care brushes
our cheek. But lingers
as long as we let it.
Marilyn Monroe
Many hear that name and cringe
It's been said that she was off her hinge
But what if she were born to a wealthy home
She may have been a name unknown
Say her parents had given her a head start
Paid for a college degree in fine art
Would she have kept her birth name and closed her legs
Been held together with high society pegs
The answer to this question is not opinion, but fact
No one will ever know, so watch your mouth and have tact
She was an exquisite lady built from turmoil and sorrow
Not a dime in pocket, even her name was borrowed
Do you know what it's like to have nowhere to turn
My guess is you would struggle to discern
Reba said it all when she described "Fancy"
Fewer choices, less foundation, some simply can't see
So before you judge, try wearing her high heels
With a wink and a chuckle, enjoy fine meals
Mr. President may be married to a lady on a pedestal
But if he were happy with her, do you think he would gamble
Perhaps she was kind and thought First Lady was her calling
But with food and shelter, would you hear her bawling
Many would disagree with these words I have spoken
They are probably at home, in their hot tub soaking
The point of my defense is not to justify
But give you a thought, in case have no supply
Ah! The Golden Years of Hollywood
And those old black and white movies
Some were cinematic disasters
But some you could call quite groovy
Even now, my heart skips a beat
When one appears on the late night screen
I choke up a bit seeing John Wayne
As he swaggers in and out of the scene
Today with its technology and trickery
We don't know if people are real
Or made up computer animation dudes
To me, it seems way too surreal
Take me back to the Spaghetti Westerns
The gangster films of Cagney and Bogart
The newsreel of the day plus a cartoon
Loved them all, that was cinematic art
The stunning sensuality of Ingrid Bergman
The glamour of a young Liz Taylor
The bombshell beauty of Marilyn Monroe
Bardot, Betty Grable and more
The newsreels, the cartoons, the travelogues
The giant blockbusters of the time
Sure was a lot for twenty-five cents
Plus popcorn and a drink for a dime
Ah! The Golden Years of Hollywood
Great musicals like “Singing In The Rain”
“An American In Paris” with Gene Kelly
Sure wish I could go back there again
I used to sashay into a room
And see all the guys just stare
Now when I waddle in a room
I get cuddled like a bear
I reveled in the very fact
That I was just sizzling hot
Now I feel rather lukewarm
Marilyn Monroe I am NOT!
I used to have a tiny waist
That accentuated my breast
Now there are lots of tiny rolls
That go right up to my chest
People like to touch my arms
They remind them of a pillow
And when I walk, do watch out!
My bum does jiggle like jello
Although now I am not streamlined
Unlike Angelina Jolie
I’m still happy with who I am
Cause there’s beauty inside of me
I don’t think that a woman’s meant
To be merely some skin and bones
But rather curvaciously soft
Or her pokiness will bring groans
And yet I confess to moments
When I wish I could turn back time
I want to be drop dead gorgeous
Not skinny… but full and sublime
Well, this lament is getting lame
So I'll start the exercise craze
I still want to make men go weak
So they’ll stare at me in a daze!
But Belly Dancing won’t be fun
There just won’t be enough to shake
So maybe I’ll just stay this way
And be good...for heaven’s sake!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
What sad fate does all of these celebrities likely have in common?
Aaliyah
Aaron Hernandez
Abraham Lincoln
Amy Winehouse
Anna Nicole Smith
Bob Marley
Brandon Lee
Brittany Murphy
Bruce Lee
Buddy Holly
Christopher Wallace - Notorious B.I.G.
Elvis Presley
Frank Zappa
George Washington
Gianni Versace
Grace Kelly
Heath Ledger
Jeffrey Epstein
Jim Morrison
Jimi Hendrix
Joan Rivers
John F. Kennedy
John F. Kennedy, Jr.
John Lennon
John Todd
King Leopold II of Austria
Kobe Bryant
Kurt Cobain
Lee Harvey Oswald
Lou Reed
Malcolm X
Marilyn Monroe
Martin Luther King Jr
Michael Jackson
Otis Redding
Paul Walker
Pope John Paul I
Prince
Princess Diana
Ritchie Valens
Robert F. Kennedy
Robin Williams
Sam Cooke
Seth Rich
Stanley Kubrick
The Big Bopper
Tupac Shakur
Vince Foster
Whitney Houston
XXXTentacion
For the glamorous Marilyn Monroe
Completely out of their minds men would go
Her hour glass figure
Sent them a-dither
When her two beauties were out there on show.
Marilyn wished to be star, perchance
Through dangerous years she’d act, sing and dance
In films she appeared
She lost all her fears
And she was never without a romance.
As a blonde bombshell Marilyn was known
Her face and her shape got her on a throne
Some liked it hot
When wild the wind got
Up went her frock, to her shock all was shown.
Sadly Marilyn met her end too soon
Now she's flying somewhere over the moon
A proven actress
In heaven's love nest
She dances and sings with angels in tune.
You’re the Moon that shone light onto the stable.
You’re the Moon that saw the meteor come.
You’re the Moon who puzzled the minds of pharaohs.
You’re the Moon who Columbus relied upon.
You’re the Moon who inspired Pink Floyd’s ‘dark’ album.
You’re the Moon who Marilyn Monroe looked upon.
You’re the Moon who Paddy Mayne watched roll over the desert.
You’re the Moon who Michael Jackson’s walk came from.
You’re the Moon who saw the burning of the monasteries.
You’re the Moon who disguised the Allies greatest armada.
You’re the Moon who controls the the tides of our oceans.
You’re the Moon who all life on this planet depends upon.
I frequent a little taco stand
Every time that I'm out west
With Elvis behind the counter
Dressed in his leathers best
Janice Joplin doing dishes
With Southern Comfort breath
Arguing with fry cook Jim Morrison
Over the best way of cheating death
Jimi Hendrix works the tables
That they have set up out front
Recommending the mushroom taco
With the psychedelic crunch
Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment
Nightly serenades the gents
While wearing her favorite T-shirt
Bobby Kennedy for president
I highly recommend the little taco stand
If you ever find yourself out West
Who's going to show up to take your order that day
Could be anybody's guess
Marilyn and Elvis, iconic, and well-loved, cherished, beloved.
Loved and beloved in the same sentence? Only for these two.
They both have a vulnerability and a tragic back story
Elvis had to live for his twin, Aaron, who died in the womb
Marilyn had to reinvent herself, so someone would love her
Both unaware of how beautiful they were; neither understanding
We who grew up in the sixties wanted to fall in love with them
They were both edgy, a bit out there, classically unique, daring.
They both caused parents to shudder, and talk.
Anyone who can make Ed Sullivan blush is okay with me.
They were sex symbols, without trying to be.
Okay, Marilyn tried. All Elvis had to do was give you his look.
That smoldering look that made you gasp
They were our beautiful people, our icons,
The ones we all wanted to be; the ones we would be
When we grew up. We all aspired to be Marilyn and Elvis.
Better yet, Marilyn and Elvis.
Own What You Own
Learn to recognize your own history.
Like the grass before a scythe
Murder is after all
A sort of suicide.
The sacrifice of someone else's self.
Like the granting of a favour
For the sake of your own insecurity.
Or out of jealousy for what we covet
From those in whom we can no longer recognize,
The better part of our selves.
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”
? Marilyn Monroe
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EdRT56WK7Q
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”
? Marilyn Monroe