Once, we took our pens to cut our throats,
Spill our blood onto the kitchen tile,
So that we could write poetry with our toes,
And allow us the chance to finally be free,
That we might die die die to feel alive.
But publicity makes all of us turncoats,
And all those stupid posts’ve gone viral,
As it starts isn’t how it always goes,
And I need to wear a mask to be seen,
While you take and take and take to thrive.
I’ll remember you and your lovely note,
About how we need some time awhile,
How a little fame doesn’t change the show,
And loving me is all you really need,
Though I know now all you’ve done is lie lie lie.
Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “French Literature” as part of their Poetics Series, celebrating the French style of Rima Dissolutas.
This is deliciously dark and poignant. I especially resonate with; “But publicity makes all of us turncoats/And all those stupid posts’ve gone viral/As it starts isn’t how it always goes.” Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. 💝💝
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I admire how you used the last line to amplify the message by repeating the words 3x e.g. lie, lie, lie. Unique take and I agree with the use of publicity and fame!
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Your rhymes are really clever. Love this
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Kind words, thank you so much!
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You weave an intriguing tale here. It sounds as though the fame went to somebody’s head!
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You know me, I adore the inevitable corruption of a beautiful thing. It sings a song worth writing.
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Fan-friggin’-tastic, Masa.
The “lie lie lie” makes me think of this Johnny Cash song:
❤
David
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That’s remarkably creepy – I thought of Johnny Cash a few times while re-reading this to myself a few times. Great minds? Yes, Great Minds.
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THAT is so hard hitting, just wonderful, and REAL. And really powerful. I can feel each emotion, and my goodness did you raise some very true things..
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Well thank you! I find such inspiration in emotional sabotage.
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Indeed… I have heard the story so many times… in all aspects of life… better to be obscure than famous…
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That’s definitely why I’m obscure (laughs in disgraced artist)
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You’ve spun a whole story here – an honest look at fame. That first stanza is so good! 💞
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Thank you so much! The poetic form is so hard! Let me go back to my idle haikus!
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😄 You’re a pro at any form 💯
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Such a dark spin of imagery that twists, twists, twists into your heart that it still bleeds over. You had me at the beginning: “Once, we took our pens to cut our throats”
It eerily reminded me of Sylvia Plath, that raw to the bone honesty; a heart lept beginning where you don’t know what’s going to happen as you keep reading. I find it darkly beautiful in how you describe the corruption of a person and how it takes their life. Literal. Metaphorical. Are they ever the same? Sometimes, it’s easy to forget what else comes with fame (however major or minor) is that loss of privacy and security.
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I’m always thankful for your commentary. It appears I was successful on all ends of conveying that kind of self-destruction that comes with fame and the consequent corruption of any artistic community that comes with it. Of course, it’s not a rule of circumstances, but I tend to enjoy writing about it. Thank you for your brilliance!
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Well done! Cutting your throats to bleed and write with your toes! Wow! What a wild metaphor for freedom! A great poem.
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Thank you! I think it suggests the “all-out” methodology of those who have nothing to lose, and feel they have nothing to gain in their art. Careless and wild, dangerous and free.
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You are welcome!
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The resentment oozes out of this poem. Will there be a revenge poem to follow up or one of reconciliation?
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I doubt any follow up would be more interesting than the fall itself. But that is a curious idea – I’ve very rarely considered “following up” any of my little pieces.
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Sharp words. Thanks for sharing.
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