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My lost Devotion

by Sparrow_splitter 

Posted: 30 January 2004
Word Count: 100
Summary: I'm not sure that this works, but I thought I'd post it anyway. The Johnny Rotten thing is not about that survivor crap by the way.

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All my heroes are dead or dying
my soul is empty
and foresaken.
Like when I met Lou Reed,
and all he talked about was his balls
or seeing Johnny Rotten,
in it for the buck.
Orsen Wells as Unicron,
Francis making 'Jack'.
Jimi Hendrix,
choked on sick,
and Alexander the Great
was a fag.
Dr. Thompson's latest was shit,
and even Bukowski left me cold.
Kurt Cobain had his gun
and maybe he was right.
So offered the chance to live forever,
I think I'll slit my throat.
And have my ashes ground up,
and flicked in peoples eyes.

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Comments by other Members

dr_mandrill at 00:00 on 31 January 2004  Report this post
It's true, isn't it? Peter O'Toole goes to bed at 7 these days, so I hear. I reckon Richard Harris is saving him a seat by the fire in hell (it's the cool guy's heaven).

Jack... heh, I'd forgotten all about that crapsack. Jennifer Lopez was in it, you know?

Anyway, what a funny and interesting poem you have written about the tarnished lustre, the devalued currency, the mouldy biscuit, the wilting erection etc etc... of celebrity.


PS- You'll always have Pablo Escobar.


PPS- Just read it again, and the last four lines are still funny. You need to make a will.

Fearless at 08:31 on 31 January 2004  Report this post
Old celebrities never die, they simply fade away (on reality TV)

Good poem. Remember; hell has much better choreography than heaven, you know, Hot Gossip vs Pan's People.


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