Marilyn and the Maligned

 

marilynn stamp

 

  How did this trembling fragile mortal climb a mountain only to be overturned by the footlight? Is she only remembered in a pop culture gouache poster hung on museum walls? Did the barrage of paparazzi journey far too much along her poetic skin until her smile was only a mask?

   She sought in her need an occasional piece of invisible space from the multimedia Blitzkrieg, a gruesomely ignored request, leaving her overwhelmed and lonely.

   Fame has defamed the lives of many young wandering stars that all too quickly lose sight of the ground as they ascend in untrue expression. Party away their gifts, or anxiously tap dance trying to hold on to it all. And then there is this feeling of waning youth and lost desirability looming like a lonesome specter seeking misguided company.

   No one wants to fade away or melt down into the decline of diminished talent or simply become disfranchised has long been fodder for a gossip column.            

  The fresh pain of invisibility in a fishbowl is enough. Only to find that not having lived unencumbered by another’s unreasonable expectations of them is a missing page never to be returned to.

    I sadly watch others make a buck as they are assigned to tabloid vexing, distorted lies, framing my favorite stars in unfair craven icon images to gawk at in grocery lines.

   Somewhere there are parties where someone transparently sadly impresses someone with names purposefully dropped for a quick tainted kick as if speaking it would, or could ever bring him or her closer into their orb as a friend.

    They don’t know her. They don’t have an inkling of her true nature and worst of all they are making her forget that all she ever wanted from this was perform La Dame in Free Form.

   But fame is ecliptic, and can be dismally dark, little joy did it impart for in her desire for the respect she was madly enveloped in lights of exploitive lust, barely escaping with a clean heart. This is the plight of stars past and stars present, whose lives are twisted and assumed in caught moments off guard when the weight of their personality subjects them to scrutiny and with little absolution or discretion stills the wagging tongue to tell tales that rewrite history, a history maybe not all entirely accurate. 

   I am not so sure that I even should care and that curiosity is a mindset not always best pursued. It’s a wasted perusing on perfectly good paper that could be filled with a far better read than what the stargazers report.

 

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