#popstar
Stances and poses stolen from guitar Gods
Hip shakes amping the sexuality
Audience love
And ego boosted
The nightly life of the rock star
Boredom and waiting around
Back stage the city that I only see
Taking advantage
Of groupie love
The nightly life of the rock star
Adrenaline coursing through the veins
Not a chance of dreaming soon
Alcohol or drugs
Can permanently fix
The nightly life of a rock star
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 4:04 AM UTC
what would i give
to wake up next to you
fingertips dancing on hips
as curtains give way to sunlight;
the world,
a wonder of sight?
what would i give
to drown...
in the crook of your neck
or the streams of your laughter
as you lurched your body forward
and laughed
with all your might?
what would i give
for our souls to entwine
the raggedness of your breath
spilling into mine?
what would i give
to be given a gift;
to weave another reality;
craft a different mentality;
build a sanctuary;
one with you and me
our confined souls broken free?
just what would i give
just what should i find
to redraw the line
for this silly popstar love of mine?
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
Here's the hint I've been asking for,
of a top secret event and more.
Speculations were all over the net.
Maybe some of people even bet
about all the possibilities
and how about the probability
of a calendar or video shooting.
The album cover would also be suiting.
But here comes the little hint,
of some photographic print.
Looking elegant in every tux,
like a model of Grand Deluxe.
The bomber jacket, coats and shirts.
Oh dear, not forgetting those two birds,
on a body smooth like a baby's ****
Oh what did he do, our Captain of Pop?
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
I’m sick of it,
The blasted hordes like dried-out gourds
Screaming, cawing for more water.
Feed the flesh, delight the eyes
Give us our shining fantasy. With flippancy
Strip down past all the layers of
My skill my voice my person,
And then take me, break me, make me
Into someone I am not.
Into something that is not.
Pull the paints out.
Imperfections had their day
Yesterday.
Today we’re going all the way.
Make or break you,
Take and shape you:
Tonight you’ll be the idol of the world.
Set the lights, hold your poise.
There’s a goddess on the stage tonight.
Not a person. Not a voice.
It’s the *** doll’s dance tonight.
But we’ll call it art.
I’m sick of it,
The cursed curve,
Numbers up, so clothes come down; and to think I started out
So innocent.
But the eye of the tiger is broken,
The clearness of crystal is crushed -
and those shards just make the perfect dress!
Crystalize, sterilize,
Put me on a different plane.
Separate, distillate,
Don’t let them see your pain.
“If you have to show you’re broken,
It’s gotta be so you can gain.”
Strip away. Everything.
Don’t show them who you really are.
We need an image for the covers
Not a person. Not a windowpane
Into your soul.
So break free, defying,
Undying.
You’re like a god.
No more trying. True flying
Means no more rules for me.
Don’t let them try to
Defy you:
You are now allowed to breathe free.
But only if you push the line. Flaunt your paints and shine your sparkles, leave behind your decency. You stand before a watching globe It is your job to entertain. So really, you are not your own.
The masses are the masters, though they pay.
So no, there’s no way out for you. There’s only forward
Which is downward. And no chance
To just be you. Because
Your freedom isn’t free.
They just can’t take a faulty human. It would be a let-down,
A break-down.
So let us shove you in a box.
Tell you how you have to be.
If you’re gonna keep your money
And your parody of free.
Then take the stage
Play the part.
There’s no more music
No more art.
Just a mad house, a cat house
Diced up platters serving meat.
Kiss my chains, take my gains,
For all my pains
I still ain’t free.
But still. We’ll call it art.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC