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The Uncelebrated
the walking wo/man in the crowd
who protests the wrongs of the place in which
s/he lives
will never be heard of again
& the wo/man in the factory
who labors to feed her/his family & tries to
stay afloat
will never be heard of again
& the wo/man in the school
who teaches the children even the most rudimentary
of skills to get by in the machine
will never be heard of again
& the wo/man in
the hospital who deals with the sick day in
& day out trying to keep your wretched self alive
will never be heard of again
& the fireman who rescue you from a burning building
when you couldn’t get out on your own
will never be heard of again
& the person who stops the killing arm of someone
out to end you via a robbery or a mugging
will never be heard of again---
but the celebrities that parade in their diamond studded glitz &
drive the gas guzzling monsters rolling so uniquely special in
their own right, with their european mastery in carving just
what you like if you’ve got enough, with the sun glasses &
the 100% of the time photogenic, scientologist, talk shown,
nevergonnahavetoworryboutnothinnevernohow face straddling
our mutual (and only) reality,
walk
about
every
day
with
their
name
on
your
lips---
because you’re just ready at the drop of the hat to talk about what they had for breakfast & what they are gonna do when the superbowl happens & what their baby looks at now at the age of 3.
Copyright ©
Andrew Delapruch
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