He chopped my head off.
He wanted a son and I gave him a girl
I miscarried twice and one was a boy
It was an unforgivable sin.
So desperate for an heir was he
He evicted the Pope from England
And created his own kind of church
So he could get rid of Catherine,
The mother of his daughter,
And have me, against my own will.
My sister was not enough for him-
A mistress can not be a queen -
And the successor he so keenly longed for
Must be the issue of a queen.

With 2 daughters, Henry needed a son.
Catherine gave him Mary
And I bore him Elizabeth.
He didn’t know - nobody could know
How that rivalry would one day end.
When Henry looked to Jane Seymour,
Something told me I would die.
Hoping for kindness, it was brutality instead,
And Henry fell into a chain of desperation.
With seven murdered wives as links.

He chopped off my head to clear the way
For marriage number three
And buried me in a leaden box
In his ongoing quest for sons.
He thought that was the end of me
But my daughter was made of my same stuff
And through her battles over time
She claimed the throne that once was mine
And the Elizabethan era came to be.
ljm

I’m just a girl from LA.
I was swapped like a small puppy between owners, some that
treated me like a pet, some like just another possession..
No one thinks of beauty as a curse but it has haunted me all my life.
Beauty seems to be associated with the ****** and men and women
alike feel entitled to use you for their own satisfaction. That was a lesson I learned early. I also learned the advantages of agreeing.
I got married at 16 only to escape, I was used and abused. We divorced fortunately.
While working at the factory somebody took my picture  and said I could make a living as a model. I let them take many photos over the years, many I was ashamed of. Again I was used for other people’s gains.,
The only person who ever accept me as me was Joe D. I actually loved him and he loved and respected me.
I made many movies, the “Misfits being my latest with Clarke, my hero.
People were drawn to me,
Presidents, senator’s, attorneys general.... not for me but for their personal use and gratification. They introduced me to drugs That make the day to day pain go away. I get no pleasure from what they demand of me, but the drugs make it bearable. He is coming tonight and I look forward to being detached from reality for a short time. I know I’ll be me again in the morning but the brief escape tonite is a blessing. More later...



We all know there was no later for Marylin. If she had lived and wrote a poem here’s what I think she would have wrote...

My life was an act, I never got to play myself.
I played the part out of necessity so often that I forgot who I was. A life of not being you is a life without the soul you were born with.
I search for me but am always obstructed by those saying who I should be. I yearn for the day that Marylin can be Norma Jean. I’d love to meet her, maybe tomorrow...