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Potholed road full busload, rumble cloud rain,
Hole in sky angers fly, groan they all in pain,
Flooded way joy at bay, no relief respite,
Begged it rain summer’s pain, scorching day and night,
You prayed it god brought it, the monsoon’s delight,
Don’t grumble slip tumble, curse it as a plight.
The victim list keeps growing

But no one really cares

The gristmill claims another one

Keep your hands in and don't stare

Hollywood is the golden land

The eternal silver screen

But many souls are lost here

A lot of greats or never beens

Child stars and veterans

The names can fill a book

Look, we've lost another one

Keep on moving, no time to look

We show concern when tales we hear

Of celebs dying young

We ruminate on films not made

And songs they've never sung

Each busload brings another group

To fill the starstruck void

And the next bus has a dozen more

With dreams, too soon destroyed

It's been this way since film began

The streets are filled with scores

Of undiscovered junkies,

And photogenic ******.

Some you know and some you don't

It's a list a mile long

It's amazing how these fragile folks

Could end up going wrong

The studios were pimps back then

With bennies all the rage

They loaded up their bonus babes

And then they sent them out on stage

We've seen the Little Rascals

You know Alfalfa Switzer, but,

Did you know he died a ******

From a bullet to his gut?

Scandals, lawsuits, hidden trysts

These stars were fully amped

Girls below the legal age,

Made Chaplins ***** a *****

Arbuckle committed ******

Other's just od'd

It's amazing how the failures

Make for a better read

Oh look another bus trip

Past the houses of the stars

All manicured and landscaped lawns

Just to hide the ****** scars

If you look behind the curtain

Back into the world of Oz

You'll find the munchkins getting plastered

And dear Judy dead because

They made her a screen idol

They broke down the girl inside

They milked her for her talent

****, they took her for a ride,

For every one like Garland

There's a thousand more in line

Just waiting for their chance to see

Their name upon that sign

Keep together, Keep on moving

There's lot's more for you to see

River Phoenix from an overdose

John Belsushi killed by speed

Peg Entwhistle jumped from high atop

The Hollywood sign we see

She decided she had had enough

In either 32 or 33.

Hughes bough loads of starlets

He liked to hide them round the town

But he was always way too busy

Getting up or coming down

James Dean died in a car crash

Add his name unto the glut

And there was young Grace Kelly

It seems our Princess was a ****

Jean Harlows husband shot himself

Clara Bow liked  having fun

In fact she ******* the USC football team

And I think she might have won

Look up and see the smiles

Of the ones who reached their dream

But, many do not go unscathed

In Space they can't hear you scream!

Sal Mineo was murdered,

Then there's dear dear Natalie Wood

They're not saying  RJ done it,

But it sure does not look good

Remember the curly headed kid

Who played Buffy on tv

She ended up so full of drugs

It's a list from A to Z

Now, when stars have problems

they do reheab and they hide

Back then they never had the chance

They just committed suicide

The man of steel, George Reeves

Was found shot in the head

They're not sure who killed Superman

So they said suicide instead,

Bob Crane, our Colonel Hogan

Made **** films and did drugs

But, whle Hogan's Heroes was still on

This was swept under the rugs

We can keep on this forever

Listing failures more than gains

For to be a fallen idol

comes with alot of pain

Child stars, just brushed aside

Their names and faces lost

Their lives are but a footnote

Is their loss the final cost?

You can peek behind the curtain

The wizard's still there today

But, if you come to visit

Please don't make the choice to stay

For, the victim list keeps growing

It gets longer every year

But, for many of these fallen stars

Is there one who'll shed a tear?

It's an image on a silver screen

We love the work they do

But of each ten thousand who do try

There's only one who's dream comes true

So, watch and listen closely

For in Hollywood you'll find

A list of tragic stories

Who the movies left behind.
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
Awake to a slowly beating drum
morning meditation drifting up the hill
in the garden, tiny birds add sweet highs
tuneless ravens, the bass undertone
trees whisper ancient lyrics
on the passing breeze.

We stroll the Path of Philosophy
through massive wooden gates
into carefully sculpted gardens
exploring the endless number
of temples dotting Kyoto
each more lovely than the last.

Quiet Nanzen-Ji
is where I feel the most
following worship worn
steps to a cave-shrine
heady with wet
and incense

we are purified
by waterfall spray
before returning
the way we came
voices hushed
buoyed by eternity’s hand.

The hotel lobby is filled
with crimson and saffron
glistening heads and broad smiles
from monks gathered there
we bow to each other and are one
may it never be forgotten

revelers arrive by busload
for hanami, cherry blossom viewing
beneath a revered tree
decked out in pink splendor  
lit from below to radiate
surreal, internal light

we sample Kobe yakitori
soba and corn
grilled over open flame
as we flow
through the smiling
celebratory crowd

we savor
what is transitory
as sparks
and blossoms whirl
settling on
our hair and skin.
Kyoto is just one of those magical places...
Julie Anne Lail Feb 2010
I have lost all control.
Having kids was not my best idea.
I am at my wits end.

Why does my bathroom look like it snowed?
Stop climbing on that coffee table Leah!
I have lost all control…

Do not play in the road!
Who puts pimento spread on a tortilla?
I am at my wits end!

These socks should not be a la mode…
Im selling you kids to South Korea.
I have lost ALL control.

Why is my banister starting to corrode?
I’m going to need stock in IKEA…
I am at my wits end…

My sanity is leaving by the busload.
Who knew crayons cause diarrhea?
I have lost all control!
I AM AT MY WITS END!!!
SG Holter Jul 2014
I was a toddler lost in the
Woods at night, awakening from
Sleepwalking.
Mud on my pyjamas,
Leaves and twigs on the head of
My teddy.

My mother's voice stronger
From the front door; crumbs
To follow into warm arms; each
A piece of poetry paving a path
From the opposite of Heaven
To Heaven.

I've seen them in the mouth
Of a Great White breaking surface.  
Heard them in the sandpaper
Sounds of a mother's tongue against
A stillborn kitten's wet fur;
Wake up. Move... Wake up...

I've found them swept under rugs, or
Left by the last boy to climb
The tree to the top and carve
About the view.
I've smelled them when monster-
Biting the tummy of my friend's
Screaming daughter; laughing
Herself to an unavoidable  
Diaper change.

Pieces of poetry  
On centuries old headstones
And toilet cubicle walls. In old
Eyes regaining faith in young people,
Like yesterday on the bus:

A little old lady getting up.
A wave of helping hands to
Support, secure, show respect; every
One of them a piece.
Each finger a letter; each hand a
Word, a complete poem
In the shape of an

Everyday moment witnessed by
A busload of commuters and a
Poet with busy eyes,
Gathering all those little pieces

Of poetry
Into
This.
Walter Alter Aug 2023
Act 1
a notarized copy of this testament
is on file with my attorney
in case of my untimely earthing
by the invisible x-ray background
driving another stake through my bleeding heart
but back to our semiotically comatose narrative
The Eel king rips off Bobby's latex facade
at last I have you captive Bandwidth
Eel's eyes narrow a smile edges his mandible
Bobby's eyes gone wide with no exit
prepared to submit to his conspicuous doom
humid vistas from the Matto Grosso
panned luridly before his convulsing eyes
ars pharmacopia little muffin went Eel
the time has come for your loving torment
Bobby was dragged to the Cistern of Woe
by a busload of nuns from Santa Pudenda
and tied into one of Escher's inhibition pretzels
above a pit of staring human eyeballs
Bobby had a plan murky at first
but with a blurred urgency that unveiled
his guardian cosmetician's skin graft
from the last 3 alarm conflagration epic
it had finally healed abused and maligned
tho still on oxygen or was it toxigen
no one knew much less the narrator
too harried by Fate for detail work
but I digress to a distressing degree
Bobby stared into the cesspool of his mind
illumined now by a wan spark of hope
he would gambit judiciously
the ancient and terrible pherome defense
as the squish of rain forest footsteps
and little gasps of manual stimulation
graced with wanton overtones came closer
it was LeMona the Eel King's daughter
a beauty that all the aniline dyes in the jungle
could not extinguish in a waterfall's fog
marched with retinue straight up to Bobby
he was instantly and cleanly detrousered by
her wheezing steam engine of debauchery
within microseconds seconds her tongue
was down his throat to the car park
he heard the bell in her navel ringing
and went limp like a doomed weasel
in the talons of a swooping Mongolian bercut
the Eel King became visibly ill humored
contain your infantile carnality
mischievously insistent pride of my *****
(to be continued)

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon
Lack of women

The plateau of Alentejo has a rich fertile soil but few women
most of them studied and became unemployed lawyers in Lisbon,
something had to be done. And a busload of women came in the hope
of finding a wealthy farmer.
They were in their forties but tried to look 35 with heavy makeup
it was pathetic, pale, sweaty faces the sun is intense under the immense
blue sky exposing a life lived inside nightclubs.
The women had the task to do the mucking out. put new straw
for the sheep and milk them.
For many t was too much, they took the bus back to their civilization
as they knew it.
I didn't see the end of the show the many ads took a long time
I got bored and flipped to another station.
But some women stuck it out they thrived, and who knows?
They might find their affluent farmer.

— The End —