the cult of the ideal woman.
silent era mignon.
pass the baton.

a little diplomacy.
a little electricity.
and a waterfall of curls.

she moves with the fayre.
I see her idling on Fifth Avenue
and at work behind the counters
of the stores.

besotted men plant young, leafless trees upside-down,
roots in the air, simply because
she wants it that way.

a groundbreaking end
to The Broken Oath,
and her name on the credits
for the very first time.

screens, fans, and umbrella stands.
or maybe lilies in a field of seclusion.
she is stardom.
she is the eternal question.

aka the artist, aka prince aka PRINCE

now, that is slick!
dropping your last name, to make you more famous
even though yo daddy was there, to give it to you
and he is already famous

smith really is a boring name

independence day for your new nation's mind
what do they call the first independance day?
not the one we celebrate yearly.
but the one where it first happened?

oops
i am sorry if i hurt you
oops i
did it again

oops i did
it again
oops i did it
AGAIN!

this is brittany *****!
i think she knew who it was
who needs a last name to draw a buzz?
what came first, the peach or the fuzz

all i ever got was the pit

is it okay if i call you willow smith
or is it miss willow
i will not use all caps for anybody!

i come first!

Star soldier with the rocket arm,
you bleed silver, gold,
and product placement.

Smile big for the camera,
the media will sell its soul
for a new bankable face.

Party hardy, Heisman candidate,
******* your semi-steady's
sorority sister,
then ask to see her again
sometime after the **** kit.

It's quite alright,
so long as you have talent
beyond this hemisphere.
Why even the fatherland, ESPN,
will gladly call you "son."

“Where is the rest for the weary?”,
Cried out the sappy sun.

The burden of lighting up the
world left his own soul lusterless.

His blistered fingers handed down his glow
as he stood frozen up high in
his onerous profession, keeping
a bright smile in a baby blue prison.

In his own shame, the pitiful sun covered himself,
boosting his rays so no man could beam their eyes up
To see his dreary tears.

After work he would blaze back home
Dreading the next day to come while
countless stars flooded outside his home,
Night after night
Begging for his spot and
Dreaming of his celebrity.

While the stars pounded on his door, inside
He emptied endless tears out of the well of his heart
But he could never let go of his pride.
So, season after season he suffered in the spotlight
all to hold on to his futile fame.

Always being flirted with
While others never get noticed
Standing out in densely gathered crowds
The highs were way above and beyond
Even the mightiest and highest of the clouds
The shine would never ever leave
My newly found and now world famous face
But, it takes lots of **** hard work
If wanting to stay in Hollywood’s first place
Never liked to be the runner up
Only ever winning, at any sort of race
Paparazzi snapping, tabloids exaggerating
For what’s its actually worth
One more bit of bad gossip mongering
They could bring anyone, back down to earth.

Reach out and touch
The reflective surface,
Nearly-perfect, infinite.
She's an unbreakable object held
Within stasis,
A long-durational sleeper,
Motionless in her far-off stare.

Time dilation may be absolute,
But there's no denial
Of a sundry smile
And questioning brow.

Glass divides she
From true self,
Kept in the hold
As priceless cargo
That once inspired the likes
Of da Vinci.

Thus Snow White wasn't quite dead
When the trap was sprung,
Her day lay in wait
For a kiss of life:
An event horizon.

Lift the lid
It did,
And with a centuries-old yawn,
She fixed her face upon
Her growing public,
And broke through
Hibernation,
To give birth to a star.

Fame is a kind of addiction.
It can be a lethal condition
If taken with no restriction
Real life succumbs to fiction.

Elvis took too much stuff.
Janis fell for too much guff.
Jimi didn’t quit soon enough.
Morrison had to act tough.

It was all about being a star
Instead of being what you are.
Life is not a big expensive car
It’s what you have done so far.

Becoming a famous insufferable,
And ordinarily unapproachable,
Can make behavior intolerable
Rendering you reprehensible.

They turned away with a shrug
Went back to a favorite drug
Left a dead body for others to lug;
Their fame swept under a rug.

The pretty face won’t protect you
No matter how often they inject you.
In time your fans will neglect you
But the coroner won’t reject you.

The star insures that his crew,
Let him do what he wants to do.
Refuse him and you’re through
The star has no use for what’s true.