#monroe
Marilyn's easel
a Madonna displayed
celluloid goddess
of the temple of the silver screen
we worshipped
ignoring the cracks and the obvious fact
that the woman behind the art
was slipping
slowly dripping off the canvas
now she is no more
we still adore
the puddle on the floor
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 7:12 AM UTC
Not everyone can be a star
no matter how we wish for heavenly light
most of us will not illuminate the night
those who burn and seem so bright
will oft ignite and fall
burning cinders
merely human after all
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 10:15 AM UTC
Death was California
the final breath in a hundred ways
falling all over her atoms
darkroom/lighthouse
a game of replica
back when she was beautiful
an end to amnesia then
tears before bedtime
this is no way to make friends
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 1:37 PM UTC
Amaryllis in the Spring
because it's a pure & innocent thing
before a summer of rockets,
debris of hope—
*the Age of Discovery,
the Punishment of Lust*
an intravenous poison of decline forms
the new math: eye value minus itself
in waltz-time the body is radio-active,
there is no such thing as labor saving machinery
ask Garbo or Monroe, very happy one moment,
the next there was nothing left
their machines did the heavy lifting,
but one was not the loneliest number
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 10:14 PM UTC
I’ve never felt
More luxurious
Than when
I was on a newly
Prescribed drug
With a total body high,
Coming down from mania,
Still exuberant,
But in a private space,
In my bathroom
In the ward,
In a bathtub
That does not fill up.
So I put on the shower
And I let the water hit my skin
And I took bite after bite
Of crisp and juicy apple slices.
I was at the mental hospital
Marilyn Monroe stayed in.
I imagined her here in the same bath
Also feeling luxurious and all sorts
Of ****** up like me.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 2:48 PM UTC
What I love about Star Trek isn’t the plots or even the characters. It’s their casual, daily use of fantastic technologies (think replicators) - for them, the ordinary. It mirrors our own banal use of magic-like wireless, google searches and air travel.
We are marvelous monkeys.
I’m a teenager. I am new and agog - Jesus, I have a lot to learn. How are the many marvels that elevate our lives actually made? The millions of cars, the fuel distribution systems, our skyscrapers. Who thought of all this?
We’re marvelous monkeys.
We can almost cheat death - I saw Marilyn Monroe on TV last night.
It wasn't the real star - just the image of her purring sexuality. The her without the messy adopted-child neuroses, chemical dependencies, loneliness and deeper longings. But it's early days - her DNA is lying around here somewhere.
We’re marvelous monkeys.
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 7:29 AM UTC
"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses." ~JFK
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Where have you been?
Yehudit's mother said
Benny's place
Yehudit replied
(not thinking it
worth the risk
in lying about
where she'd been)
alone?
no his mum
was there
Yehudit said
not mentioning
lying on Benny's bed
listening to Elvis
and the kiss
what did you
do there?
her mother asked
eyeing her moodily
talked and listened
to records
Yehudit said
pushing the image
of her and Benny
on his bed
how is his mother?
she's ok
talked to us
about things
Yehudit said
what things?
her mother said
voice hardening
like granite words
about making cakes
and how
to decorate them
(Benny's mother
had said hello
and said they could
go to Benny's room
to listen to records)
is that all?
her mother said
like some Spanish
Inquisition interrogator
o yes and about
Benny's love affair
with Marilyn Monroe
Yehudit said
are you being
funny or rude?
her mother said
no it's true
he has photos
of Marilyn
in frames
in his room
Yehudit said
(2 photos
by his bed)
odd boy
her mother said
unsmiling
well seeing
as you are back
there are chores
to be done
Yehudit took off
her coat
and set to work
thinking
of Benny's lips
and kisses
on his bed
floating
about her head.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
The cessation of a sunset,
Red & blue skies fill my demon infested
worlds
My eyes are brown, my skin
Turns to red velvet...
With a blink of an eye I run,
Into the night I run,
Through the tall trees & into midnight...
My body is burning on the inside..
My hands are numb ,
My eyes are closed shut.
Into the night I run,
I run to farthest distance in an instant,
Hands & feet in a stance of insertity,
Hair tied ,
Face smashed with messiest of makeup,
Bleeding the red tears of the sinful red baby...
Into the night I run,
Running away from myself,
My present body and out of my skin,
Into the night I run,
Where no one can see me,
I scream the highest of voices
Screeching in hatred of the world...
Into the night I run,
I run until I am one with the Sun...
And all that I am and what I was ,
Is finally done..
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
With a little bit of bleach and a rounded xss
they think they can be Marilyn Monroe
but never strive high enough to **** a JFK,
instead they're down on their knees for a Trump
refreshing their Instagram.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
I could live in your lap
But I rather reside somewhere deeper
I could live in your mind
But I rather make you feel me some place sweeter
Miss me like you never saw me
Want me like its what you never had
Both graduated with PHDs
Speaking knowledge when those head games are applied
I could submit to my knees
But I need to look into the eyes of the one..
I crave more of you than just fun
Quick nights and games with our tongues
Let the raw truth follow
After one night comes tomorrow
Then those lust filled lies become that much more hard to swallow
So until then..let me hold this lock
With infatuated anticipation hoping
You will insert your key inside my Pandora's Box
Get me off with the thoughts and energy of your touch and actions
Cause contractions inside the walls only you know
But you have yet to let it be known
That your lap is where I call home...
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
They call me 'fake',
Apparently too genuine for the masses to believe,
They grasp at any weapon,
To muddy the waters & deceive,
The Bible speaks of money,
And the lust it can incite,
They claw, destroy, froth at the mouth,
Morning, noon, & night.
How sad they cannot see,
More beauty in a single feather, fallen leaf upon the ground,
Simple treasures God created,
Worth more than any gemstone to be found.
Botox, fake ***** make-up by the gallon,
Ken & Barbie look-a-likes,
No thanks,
I'll take Marilyn & Jimmy Fallon.
Give me laugh lines, stories shared,
Later round a campfire, retold,
Calloused hands, scars, crevices,
Like vintage books,
Weather-worn, faded, old.
Nothing did we bring with us,
Nothing will we take,
Except our memories, cherished moments,
God's love, His promise,
His children, He will not forsake.
I'm just a simple artist,
Girl next door, no frills or bling,
Time, thoughtfulness, care, will win me over,
Surely not any earthly thing.
Point your fingers,
Kick dirt in my eyes,
The light within will stream through,
Despite all your vicious lies.
God is with me,
Whom shall I fear?
In time, He'll right all the wrongs,
I am his daughter,
Held precious, close, & dear.
The darkness came only to destroy,
But the light will forever prevail,
Jesus extends His hand upon a ship of gold,
Step on,
A new life...set sail.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Love is rare.
Life is strange.
Nothing lasts & people change.
~ Marilyn Monroe~
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Oh Marilyn Monroe,
you were married to the stage show.
The baggage you carried made you run from home,
into the arms of Joe DiMaggio.
How could they of known?
The demons in your mind,
hidden inside the beauty that you portrayed on the outside.
They say revenge is dish best served cold,
but some like it hot.
Oh Marilyn,
you must of forgot.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
you were so beautiful, and miserable.
powerful, and vulnerable. remarkable, incredible.
you will be remembered for ages as the
gorgeous blonde with stars in her eyes,
a voice so soft and sweet when she verbalized,
the woman who seemed to ooze with confidence
and beauty, with everything she would do or say,
the woman that everyone wanted to be in the 60s, and still
do to this very day.
you wrote beautiful poetry,
you were so much more than what the eye could see
or the dumb blondes you played in movies, or on tv,
or the minds of small minded people.
you're a timeless beauty,
you're an inspiration to me.
without a doubt,
you were beautiful,and remarkable
inside and out.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
she said she’d wait forever
so she took the pills and
chased them down with fine wine,
picked up the phone
and waited till the end
for you to pick up the line.
was it selfish?
was it romantic?
was it kind?
she was a wet dream come to life,
she would have been such a prize.
a hand on the curve of her hip-
you couldn’t handle it.
there were
grainy photos of you both,
some fancy motel
maybe by the name of
the shangri-la.
there are moments you can see
just how deep her sadness stretched
inside of her,
just how deep her need stretched
inside of her,
for you.
there are state of the unions
adresses and inaugural china.
long lasting feasts.
she might as well have just been
the lady hiding in the cake,
the lady singing you to sleep.
everybody’s wet dream
could’ve been a reality
for you.
she said she’d wait forever
and you probably passed it off as histrionics.
and maybe you couldn’t live
with that sort of guilt.
she said she’d wait forever
so she did.
she picked up the phone,
pills and fine wine.
waited for you in this world
and ready to wait until the end of time.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
Ms. Monroe -
I had painted her on my wall
In that room
In that time
That was once mine
Like herself
And is now gone..
She is still there though
Beneath the layers,
Maybe.
Painted over
Blind to the common eye
But if you look closely
Her traces linger
He outlines distinct
And her curls ever-flowing
Even the mole
Still there
Under layers
Of paint
And various other things
Becoming a layer,
Maybe
But she's still there
Etched once upon a time,
Now fogged by their layers
But I still see her
More fortunately,
Still feel her
There
On that wall
In the minds
Where she shall always be..
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC