Lament for Anna Nicole


Lament for Anna Nicole

in the beginning was the word

the word was blond

a blond who came striding
out of the sweet morning light
assured  radiant  reaching out
past the flock of photographers
to bring tender mercies to the world
a blond who hid fears  frustration
in the twinkling wink of an eye
ready and ripe
to be a distraction for the world
here is the blond
the unattainable firm force of nature
on every tv  magazine cover  front page
all pondering the ways and wiles
of the soft hearted blond

who will be next
who was the last tail twist
in the trail of broken hearts
we follow  our noses nailed to her scent
this glowing example
of what the ordinary can rise to
billionaires  reality shows
who cares about cancer
when we have the blond
a rare creature of fine design
who can invade dreams
wrap legs around broken hearts
lead us out of loneliness

by taking on all our loneliness
in a single furtive glance
away from the camera
a single shunning of the lime light

for a moment that blesses us all

the blond reeling  recoiling

teetering on stilettos

from the press of press
the lurch of bully boy interviewers
who want to expose the gold digger

the drug addled bimbo
to show the world that the blond
is no saint merely another floozy

chunky top heavy flabby doll
lucky to be in our sanctifying gaze
the blond

gratefully accepts each slight

by each slight she is elevated

what comes next
what can be sacrificed now
there is no reputation left
the first born has been cut down
the blond has been shuffled off
in a shapeless body bag
leaving the newborn
awash in a sea of whoʼs your daddy

our father ?

is this the way the world ends

not with a bang
but a paternity test

wing fallen angel

Word Press did the weird line skips 😦 I couldn’t figure out how to undo them.

This version of Lament appears in my chapbook of the same name (some copies still available). I rarely write about current pop figures but towards the end of her life she became inescapable. It was one of the pieces that wrote itself.

The first lines came to me while was on my morning walk. I stopped & wrote them down. The rest of it began to fall into place. I couldn’t wait to get home to hit the keyboard. The mix of actual events as they happened, mixed easily with my rather jaded view of ‘news’, a little biblical referencing adds another layer to the piece. There’s also the nod to T.S. Eliot for the die-hard poetry elitists.

pink fallen ribbon

This a piece I always love to perform. I’ve even ‘scored’ it for three voices so that is resembles a news show – chilling. Some of the images roll off my tongue with relish and I love the way it ends – not with a bang but a paternity test. snap.

This also another of my pieces about identity. Anna stopped being a person as her notoriety took over. Like Jayne Mansfield, she courted fame and when she found it didn’t know who to overcome cultural stereotypes of dumb blonds, big chested female, and gold-diggers. Getting what she thought she wanted cost her the right to privacy, even in death. One of the few times her face wasn’t seen on camera was when she was in that body bag. An ugly fact of life.

statue fallen goddess

It was sparked at how the media was so stuck on her scent even after death, almost daily reports on that paternity test, while other news was delegated to after thought. By the time she was 39 she had graced every news show and magazine cover around the world and that didn’t keep her alive. Maybe it is true, photographs steal the soul – because her need for fame and our willingness to give it to her sucked the soul out of her.

November 1-30 – participating – NaNoWriMo 2016 –nano 14


fallen shoe

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