"actresses" poems
Pervert
I'm a womanizer and a pervert,
love to mingle, love to flirt.
Like Fonzi, all chicks flock,
they like the size of my clock.
Ever since I was born,
loved naked women and ****
Nothing like playing with my favorite toy,
with the newest edition of *******
Sorry I have a ***** little mind,
all men do, women don't be blind.
Lots of women have tried to convert me,
but a fun loving pervert, I will always be.
Been with a **** been with a *****
only difference is, the **** wants more.
Been with singers, actresses and models,
done it underwater, with a snorkel and goggles.
Been with a doctor, lawyer and a crook,
each time, I somehow got took.
I'm a pervert it a good way,
just some innocent ****** foreplay.
If you ever see me, I'm not threat,
they haven't invented x-ray glasses yet.
I now have a woman I really love,
all other women, I got rid of,
Gave my black book to a kid named Bieber,
now he's in jail and feeling very eager.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
You!
You are imperfect!
(surprise)
You you you and you.
Every single one of you cheerleaders.
Every princess and every nerd.
All the little muscles and big muscles.
The mothers and fathers and lovers and celebrities and billionaires and actresses and models, too!
Every single human on this earth is imperfect.
But guess what?!
That's what makes us, us.
You. Me.
All of us together in one jumbo mess of oceans and ethnicities. It's beautiful and ugly and difficult and spectacular all in one breath.
So stop hating your imperfections and your "almost there" 's. We have them for a reason.
Flaunt that imperfection, babe.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Dear Hot Straight Actresses,
Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights.
It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.
To name a few,
Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word.
Stop it!
Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee.
Stop it!
Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles.
You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop!
And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy.
You…you keep going. You two give me hope.
Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap.
In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal.
Missing out on the
Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small
or the
Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me.
or the
Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet.
Nope…didn’t see any of those.
I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids.
All I’m asking is…
…when is it coming out on DVD?
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
Over the past couple of years I’ve made some new friends
Gay ones
Coming from a small town there wasn’t a lot of that growing up
But I grew up not judging people and accepting my friends
Religion, race and ****** orientation
And then I got made fun of for having friends
They said, “Oh you’re probably gay now too right?”
I am so straight
I am so straight
That I like to listen to classical music because
It makes me feel an emotion I haven’t felt yet
I am so straight
That I cry at the end of really good movies
Because the actor or actresses performance was so believable
Or the story was something that touched me soft
I am so straight
My favorite color is purple
I am so straight
That I watch sports with my gay friends and we
Discuss the color of the team’s jerseys
I am so straight
That I broke up with my smokin’ hot, perfect 10, girlfriend
Because she didn’t have the incredible ability to carry on
A decent conversation
I am so straight
That I like to wear skinny jeans because I believe it shows off my figure better
And you come up to me and say I look gay
And girls come up to me and say I like your style
And then I kiss them
I am so straight
I write poetry about things I like to do
*** THC and partying with all of my friends, regardless of how they love
I am so straight
That I’m not even on this planet
The world is a sphere
Full of bends and curves
I’m straight out suspended in space
I am so straight
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 2:23 PM UTC
I ran across a butterfly
with a broken wing, struggling
only wishing to soar in the sky
this left me thinking
How many actresses are out there
that can make a man cry
that make you say
what is Hecuba to her
You know the kind
She ran away back in 05
out to Cali, looking for a small break
she is still waiting
tables
12 hour shift then
leaves to practice
before she breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night
How many poets paint
a picture using only
language
never to be discovered
You know the kind
The shy kid in class
that is always picked on
scribbles in a journal
if only you could read it
you would
understand
He walks home
to yelling parents
locks his door
and writes some more
before he breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night
only to repeat it
again
again
I picked up that butterfly
and brought him to the grass
away from the burning road
and speeding cars
I hope one day
it will fly
again
again
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
‘Apocalypto’ is a film set in a Maya civilisation and consists of a story that takes place in one tribe and how a passing tribe affects them to a degree of destruction. The story unfolds in a linear way of storytelling which is basic but still effective. From director Mel Gibson, the director of ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Passion of the Christ’. An underrated director of sorts but a great one nonetheless. Overlooked due to his acting career, he has been holding back on us as a director.
The characters are set to be living a Mayan life and go about their days behaving as such but are rather generous and civilized for such an old race of people. They live peacefully and secluded until they interact with another tribe which brings about their downfall. And the way in which a Mayan civilization might go about solving problem as common as a natural disaster. Through sacrifices to the God's as a way to solve problems and mass results. Very accurate to the Mayan culture as well as the entire movie taking place without one word of English, all dialogue being said in the Mayan language. Another credit to the film.
The directing style for this film is beautiful and flawless to say the least. No shaky cam used or hand held cam either. All fluent movement of the camera to create a great story, one that flows naturally. The use of camera angles is creative and different, using tilted angles to convey a certain mood and straight framed shots to convey another mood.
The performances stand out as a huge positive, the actors who I have honestly never heard of give Oscar worthy performances. Mel Gibson uses unknown actors as not to compromise the film by the status of the actors. These actors and actresses give a hard performance based on body language and quiet moments, the enduring task of learning to be emotional through a foreign language. Which is why I would guess Mel Gibson used local actors who are more aware of the Mayan language than American actors.
The set design is truly Oscar worthy in this film. The Mayan temples and tribe lands are captured perfectly in the sets for this film. Well build and suited towards the amazon environment. As well as good filming locations, using the wonders of the amazon rainforest as an advantage.
In final thoughts, I believe that Mel Gibson is a stunning director with an eye for detail and a beautiful visual director. A director that can produce great work. ‘Apocalypto’ to me in the near future will become a period piece masterpiece. A tale of survival and dedication that will live on through the ages.
Rating: Film - 8.4
Personal - 8.9
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
We blame society for everything.
We fault magazines for turning innocent teenage girls
Into anorexic beauty queens.
We point fingers at the paper thin actresses on TV screens
For bringing bulimia victims to their knees,
Two fingers down their throat as they cough up that last bit dinner,
Along with the guilt and shame that comes with it.
We blame society, but we are society.
Who wrote those magazines?
Who created the ridiculous standard that you can only fit in
If your bones are showing through your skin?
Hunger is just a feeling; thin is a skill.
Your stomach isn’t growling because you’re starving.
No! It’s applauding you on a job well done,
On another day of nothing but celery sticks and diet coke.
Who cares if all of your hair falls out?
Who cares if you get dizzy every time you stand?
Who cares if the desire to be thin and meet this sick standard of beauty
Is slowly killing you, taking another piece of that innocent teenage girl
And turning her into a skeleton?
We, as a society, don’t care.
The magazines won’t stop printing
Because another high school kid got carried away.
Extreme, even deadly diets are a thing of today,
And yes, yes, they’re here to stay.
Sometimes eating healthy and exercising just aren’t enough.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,
And under this kind of pressure,
It’s hard not to give in.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
The Creator looked at the elephant and said:
I made you big so you could be gentle
To the mouse he said: I made you small
so you could walk tall
But over millions of years you two could exchange
places and one become the other.
I know I shoved the lot of you in an Ark
Because Noah was being a pesk asking for rain
when his washing machine ran dry
So I had to fill the oceans to stop that old man
from complaining all the time. Besides I needed the bark
from the trees of the Ark to make me a small tug boat
to carry some DNA samples of my own, in case,
the lion ate the cow, the tiger chewed on the cat
and the fox tricked the rest with his cunning ways
You see, my friends, there was no grass, or snakes
or bird cages, or trees for the monkeys to swing on.
I thought of many things before I gave the building plans
to Noah and his sons. Only one was a builder the rest
were bums, who never held a hammer or learned how to
tie two bits of trees together, leave alone building
an ark to hold the worlds whole creation.Thankfully
there were no real estate agents pushing the price up
or bankers charging interest. The mafia thought of charging
an entrance fee for each pair, but before they could do that the rains came pelting down and the tickets got washed away in the storm.
So you see the Ark was a joint venture between
The Americans and Chinese and Indians
because they were willing to multiply quicker
than the rest once Mt Sinai rose up to meet the
oak leviathan from underneath.
And so my dear elephants and mouse
and fox and snake and bird and
lion and tiger. Noah and his wonderful Ark
was a script written well ahead so that Russell Crowe could get
a part playing Noah in a computer generated extravaganza
where only the actors and actresses who could afford
to pay a price to be in it - were involved.
The rest of mankind be ******
Author Notes
Quirky.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
%%
It’s about leveraging potential income
to enhance output-maximizing sustainability …
It’s about de-funding unsustainable income outcomes.
It’s about results-based data-enhanced paradigm shifts.
It’s about demobilizing upward mobility:
dis-empowering gentrification
by underfunding the over-entitled.
It’s about de-funding unsustainability
until the immeasurable metric is globally assimilated.
It’s about the designated data-driver.
It’s about memes as theme schemes.
It’s about complicating competence
through collaboration in collusion –
intentionally replicating re-branding –
effectively identifying best practices of the best-dressed actresses
until the girl in the t-shirt says “meh”.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
All the beautiful women in the world
all the actresses
dancers
models
and
letter turners
all the princesses
pop stars’ wives
***** queens
and
fashion icons
melt like candles
lit at the altar in prayer
become liquid and slowly drip
their beauty away
to gather in a clear pool at my feet.
All the beautiful women in the world
aren’t
anymore
when I look you.
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 2:45 AM UTC
i think its funny
when those who
get the largest parts
in plays,
only can act on stage.
its amazing
how i am surrounded
by so many actors.
the ones who can put
on a smile,
but are dying on the inside.
and the ones who
seem like the kindest
of those around me,
but end up sending
sending hurtful letters
to those who are dying
on the inside.
and then there are mothers
and fathers,
who seem to be giving
their children
perfect lives,
but when no eyes seem
to be watching,
they give them bruises
and say harsh things.
which causes the children
to send those letters,
which cause other children
to feel like
they are dying inside.
it just makes me wonder
why,
don't these hidden actors
ever audition
for the biggest parts,
when they hide,
the biggest lies.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I remember when the photos treated Sam kind,
and yet on the late nights (coffee, gin, cigarettes, the like) --
instead of relaying stories of interstate thighs,
instead of talking in fistfuls and mouthloads --
he spoke of internet ***********
Me, Greg, and Greg's cousin who was named after
an Eastwood western would sink the sofa.
Sam would go through the bottles, and he spoke of
internet *********** with complete delicateness.
"Their eyes always get me. The way they stare into the camera,
and every once in awhile, the veil comes down. You see they
don't want to be there. You see an eager, teenage **** reflected
in their black pupils. You see her quivering lips.
You see the ritual. It's heart-breaking."
Sam would rub his forehead -- carved by time.
Greg would ask how the real ladies were treating him.
Sam never answered.
Time made deeper creases in Sam each day,
behind a closed door,
in the secret hours,
all to the glow of a laptop screen.
He had given his love to the distance
in the **** actresses' eyes.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
Beware the sour duchess with her cobra tongue,
Come marionette, fall at her feet, the carnal cherry flower maid,
She hides in the devil's gap tooth,
In his pinstriped pockets full of rosary beads and candlewick,
She steals the heart-shaped cosmic superstition,
Demure with dulcet debauchery,
Forged in a grand dalliance of coquettish repulsion with his valiant renegades,
Vagrant of prayer and petrichor,
Buying fancy for the maudlin dolls, the ethereal actresses nursed to betray,
These childish ordeals rosy with youth,
Turn to lilac smitten executioner under the glass of a silver boulevard,
She writes me foolish want in this presence of gods and criminals,
Sell me your kisses and fingertips bruise my aura with your architecture,
Sleeping sound in your dominion the sheets are always warm.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
Look
men made a habit
out of wanting her
see
men like blondes
men like curves
men like ***
some men
want it all
because I guess all men
want to date
actresses
Norma Jean
little girl
never had a home
passed around like nothing
never had a home
and was passed door to door
abandoned
because her mother
lost her marbles
a girl
who was only wanted by men
since childhood
Norma Jean
she heard
a chorus of lies
every time someone
called her name
and she was not good enough
so she dyed her hair
not good enough
so she changed her name
not good enough
so she became an object
and when she could act no more
when she looked into the mirror
and couldn't see herself looking back
it was
not good enough
Marilyn
a star
with the most useful tool
looks
but couldn't focus the little things
so three men left
instead she focused on the audiences clapping
focused on the people loving her
focused on the men in the front row whispering
Marilyn
as they let her beauty
invade their souls
like a main street ballyhoo
playing praise to her
not knowing
each note was bittersweet
making her feel elated
and crushed
crushed beneath the chains
holding her too strongly to her past
behind every compliment
she felt his wandering hands
the hands of a man
an orphan was supposed to call
father
or the hands of a boy
the boy she was supposed to call brother
because her whole life she was only wanted for one thing
and the men in the crowds only echoed
what she had known all along
that she was
not good enough
so she dyed her hair
not good enough
so she changed her name
not good enough
so she became their object
not good enough
so they mocked the woman
who only aimed to please
calling out to her
holding her up
not knowing she would
fall
see
the depressed have an intimacy with death
it’s there in their dreams
but sticks around for their nightmares
and the fans turned to one another
trying to determine
the distance between joy and sorrow
not realizing that depression
can push the distance
making the tallest mountains
look like ant hills
creating decrescendos so soft
they fade out of existence
and for a moment
it felt like the entire universe
had begun to cry
distance must be an illusion
the woman can’t be
dead
Marilyn
her life taken
transforming the way people think
about emotions
and for an instant
it was like sadness
was a tangible thing
like you could reach out
and feel it
like for the first time
you could see happiness and sadness tango
in a dance so slow and delicate
that we finally understood
the history was so important
to know the woman
all we ever had to do was
look.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
Behind a person's success is a sacrifice;
Would you love to know the tale behind?
Actors and actresses preparing their act,
But behind the curtains there's a hidden fact.
Heels and shoes are filled with shards of glass;
Behind dress and tuxedo's there's a hidden blast
— Withal on the lights, they genuinely smile.
Let's move on and see the richest person alive:
They lurk abaft the gallanting suits and tie;
No day their feet cannot step on bars of silvers and gold,
Constantly crediting the humanity's sliver of hope
— Supported by government for the economy's growth.
Do you know someone born to be Einstein's child?
—A person whose thought process is unbelievably wide,
“What are emotions?” They frequently asked;
“Are those things related to a logical fact?”
Feelings are hindrance towards a brighter side.
We all know the people whom we proclaimed as leaders—
Behind the tall, wide walls they silently titters:
“Citizens are corrupted with money and blind rights;
This nation will never survive in a war nor in childish fights.”
Some politicians bought their roles, drinking leisure on their seats.
And there's someone like me— a bit higher, on the top—
Words are magical, making an astonishing plot;
Thy pen bleeds thread, weaving a wondrous craft—
Who knows they withhold theirs and other people's life art,
They'll keep going as long as the threadmill continues to spin.
Their tales are narrated a bit later, a bit little;
But that was a telltale with lots of missing details,
Are you willing to share the secrets found in the middle?
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your Prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car,
It's a ********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cause
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid **** silly **** stupid ****
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied:
Learn to swim. [x2]
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's coming 'round to put it back the way it ought to be.
Learn to swim.
**** L. Ron Hubbard and **** all his clones.
**** all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Learn to swim.
**** retro anything.
**** your tattoos.
**** all you junkies and **** your short memory.
Learn to swim.
**** smiley glad-hands with hidden agendas.
**** these dysfunctional, Insecure actresses.
Learn to swim.
Cause I'm praying for the end;
I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away!
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.
**** it down.
Flush it down.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
(For S. A.)TO write one book in five years
or five books in one year,
to be the painter and the thing painted,
... where are we, bo?
Wait-get his number.
The barber shop handling is here
and the tweeds, the cheviot, the Scotch Mist,
and the flame orange scarf.
Yet there is more-he sleeps under bridges
with lonely crazy men; he sits in country
jails with bootleggers; he adopts the children
of broken-down burlesque actresses; he has
cried a heart of tears for Windy MacPherson's
father; he pencils wrists of lonely women.
Can a man sit at a desk in a skyscraper in Chicago
and be a harnessmaker in a corn town in Iowa
and feel the tall grass coming up in June
and the ache of the cottonwood trees
singing with the prairie wind?
2.1k
Their's is the Anger of a different kind
The anger of people who never tried
In their minds they soared to greatness
But reality for them was empty places
To the stranger they seemed evasive
Smiling behind their glamorous faces
I know these people well
I know their heart's and I know their hell
Actor's and Actresses but not of stage
Playing their parts with passion and rage
No curtain falls for them
No applause, no critics pen
Their's souls are trapped in self made cages
Freedom is easy but to make the changes
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
After 12 midnight you shouldn't expect that someone
would be available to listen to your miserable tales unless
you’re out in that hip pub engulfed in faint lights and smoke,
where everyone is friends with anyone who’s drunk enough
to take somebody else’s ******** that stinks worse than theirs.
It looks easy to watch these strangers if you’re just right there—
sober, thinking you’re too cool to foster your despair with
a glass of ***** or a bottle of cheap beer.
So you would just sit and have a cup of coffee
right from where you could get the best view of these lonely hearts
that tirelessly whisper and whimper to one another.
And then you would remember that a few months ago
you were one of them—because after 12 midnight
you know that you couldn't count on your best friend,
for she is out of town with her lover.
You couldn't call your colleague because you know how fast
your sad stories would travel from her desk to the boss’ desk.
And for obvious reasons, you know couldn't talk to your parents.
You have no one after 12 midnight except the people in your photo albums,
the actors and actresses in the magazines, and the authors in your bookshelves.
Your bedroom has enough space for your tales,
But you know it's too cold to keep you company until you heal.
And so you would find yourself in the hip pub engulfed in faint lights and smoke,
and you would become friends with someone who’s drunk enough
to take your ******** In the back of your mind, this person
who is so keen to listen to the drops of your tears,
and is so willing to watch the movement of your mouth
could be the lover you've been waiting for.
And yes, she is that person.
She is the reason why you were in that hip pub before 12 midnight.
Because after 12 midnight you would be out with her somewhere
where ***** and beer are for celebrations.
Somewhere where seduction is over
and the only stranger that exists is the word despair.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
One.
Is home, good boy, too good for you.
Two.
Next door, doctor, married, five kids.
Three.
Visits every Sunday, doctor, married, five kids.
Four.
Cherub and sweet, tender, joined the Church.
...Splat.
Five.
Businessman, wrong people.
...Splat.
Six.
Married a German girl.
...Splat.
Seven.
Left for America.
...Splat.
Took Eight
to America.
...Splat
Came back for Nine
in America.
...Splat.
Ten.
Politician... oh well.
...Splat.
Eleven
Soap opera star, not killing people.
Twelve.
Love affairs, bad marriage, gets into fights.
...Good men are hard to find.
Thirteen.
Rides motorcycles, movie actresses, parties.
...He's my baby.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
you are here
with me
in theaters,
watching old films,
looking past
the close ups
of pretty actresses,
searching for
cigarette burns.
some sort of warning,
to see the story
is close to ending,
or the reels are
just changing.
pictures wont stop flickering
and i wonder who you're
pretending to be
now.
but i'm afraid,
alone, in the dark
i don't have
the patience, to wait
for the curtains or the credits
so i'll clammer my way
down to the exits
and continue
to pester the quiet projectionist.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 12:25 AM UTC
raise a finger to your mouth
and part the redlipsea
cast a glance in my direction
i will never mention it again
as long as we both shall
live
those flammable words scrape
across your lips
the friction causes a spark
in your gasoline mouth
on your kerosene tongue
(still life with 3 simple words)
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
Neon actresses
Dance and sing in the cold night
Atop concrete domes.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
What if all you believed was a lie
What if everything was an illusive deceit
Would you commit suicide, continue to believe or investigate the truth?
What if your life depended on it
What would you do?
There is paper trails wrapped up in illusion and like a picture framed
You only see what is there,
At least what the camera shots.
Charisma is subtle
It’s a quality I despise, why?
It’s the traits of politicians,
They tell you sweet bitter lies,
A fool enthralled, you eat it up like it was pork chops and salads
An appetizer
A delight.
Conspiracy theory elaborates truth as well as lies
What are we to believe when the world is built on bluff?
And we are all blind; give me a pair of glasses so I may see the world more vividly
I do however; believe I need more than that.
What holy war is upon us, when will the Jews have some solace?
When will the fat aristocrat evacuate his couch and out of the kings palace?
When will the rich exchange shoes with the poor and vice versa so
They might know the shackled ******** life as well as champagne and caviar.
We question the possibility of what takes precedence
I may Google the net, read a thousand books
Dive in all sorts of information
But I guess my appetite wouldn’t be satisfied because my eyes and ears
Had enough to realize and acknowledge that the world is built truly on illusion
If you don’t believe me, take the movies,
They use graphics and all the technology at their leisure for things to appear real
Actors and actresses like wise
We are all plunged in by theses perceptive beliefs
That precipitates a reality that conjures fictitiously real.
All rights Reserved.
Christena Antonia Valaire Williams.
April 17, 2013
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Welcome to Society
It's full to brim
With blooming
Actors
And actresses
They practice each day
Their smiles and laughs
Till they're simply perfection
And you'll never know the difference
Between what's real
And what's not
These people
They act out their lives
With well practiced actions
And say it's all fine and dandy
When really,
It's not
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC