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TALES OF OLD HOLLYWOOD

Whole crypts ransacked

preserved body parts found re-examined

attics and cellars raided for cans of film

inhabitants of nursing homes grilled to despair

whispers and wills plundered for half truths,

and all the while the ghosts of narcissists recalled

assembling in long galleries of haunted houses lit by arc lights. 

 

Private beaches combed for evidence of washed up

careers, old maids bribed for stories of bliss

in open topped limousines and sedans,

moments relived, dawn's uneasy discoveries

in first time bedrooms in sunset boulevard or Bel Air. 

 

Firmly replace the lid on all this

fix with bolts, locks and chains

apply skull and crossbones with stencils

launch a thousand careers into the deep

to the plaintive sinking of Hawaiian guitars. 

 

🌷(7)

◄ THE NET CLOSES

HOUSE MOVE ►

Comments

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jennifer Malden

Thu 28th Mar 2024 16:19

Loved whispers and wills plundered for half truths! Think it has already become a nightmare.

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raypool

Mon 18th Mar 2024 13:55

Thanks for the likes Hugh, Holden, Lee and Acamus.

Thank you Graham. A bit of old fashioned journalize there! It those pebbles and sand could talk!

Thanks for the compliment Stephen. Probably if we spent time over there it would all come roaring back - the Americans seem to live on a dream - or will soon be a nightmare?

An imaginative response thank you David. I'm glad you liked it and embraced my noir version of the phenomenon. There;s really no escape from the American good guys and bad guys syndrome except to nail it down.....

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David RL Moore

Sun 17th Mar 2024 10:28

We see that vacuous world eating itself, so shallow now that it has resigned itself to digging up corpses and zombiefying them back into celluloid reality...(no celluloid now though) old stories recycled and bloated for effect.

Of course there are those who shy from the arc lights, but too few.

An insightful poem which begs the lid be firmly nailed down and sunk in the depths.

Meanwhile real people aspire to their fantasy. The world is upside down in tinseltown...

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Stephen Gospage

Sun 17th Mar 2024 09:11

A lost era, Ray. Fading away, yet strangely preserved. Your poem evokes the atmosphere of that time perfectly.

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Graham Sherwood

Sat 16th Mar 2024 16:30

Private beaches combed for evidence of washed up careers,

Excellent words Ray! I would imagine plenty of flotsam and jetsam there.

Good work

G

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