Most good roles are written for young men. We are fixated on youth. So however much people say there is nothing wrong with being bald, the reality is once the hair is gone, you might not get the parts.
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Reality
Tragic youth was looking young and sexy
The tragic youth was wearing tattered black jeans
Bearing arms and flaunting all her mischief
The tragic youth was going down on me
And I swear
Woo hoo
Yes I swear
I built a wall of sound to separate us
And hid among the junk of wretched highs
I sped from Planet X to Planet Alpha
Struggling for reality
Ha ha ha ha
Woo hoo
Ha ha ha ha
Whoo hoo
Hey, now my sight is failing in this twilight
Da da da da da da da da da
Now my death is more than just a sad song
Da da da da da da da da da
And I swear
Woo hoo
Yes I swear
Woo hoo
I still don't remember how this happened
I still don't get the wherefores and the whys
I look for sense but I get next to nothing
Hey boy welcome to reality
Ha ha ha ha
Woo hoo
I've been right and I've been wrong
Now I'm back where I started from
Never looked over reality's shoulder
Ha ha ha ha
Huh ha ha ha
Woo hoo
Huh ha ha
Wooh
Woo hoo
Wooh
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you're a woman in your 40s, it's not the best time to do films, because there really aren't that many roles. Then you reach 50 and there are more roles again. Mother parts.
quote by Shirley Knight
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.
quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What are you teaching truth or propaganda?
Smoke clouding the sanity
Sounds twisting the morality
Of the hopeful minds
Of the altering youth
The youth
That is taught to hate
Taught to believe what you tell them
Taught that difference is incorrect
That being unique is a curse
Yes we not taught racism
Or sexism or even nationalism
But we are taught that we are the same
That we in actual fact are not equal
We are taught through hierarchy
We are taught that some are higher and lower
Taught that we are wrong unless supported
You twist our minds with scores
You teach us with systems
Of merits demerits
Money and career placement
How can you judge character on a paper
How can you know what lies beneath
When it is written in a 2d image
How can you know that it's from the heart?
Would you ever understand?
That life is experience
Not observation and documents
Anyone can exist on paper
But what about in reality
What do you consider reality?
Numbers typed in a computer
That you are only worth what you offer
No reality is
That there is no right or wrong
That life is cruel
That the only way to survive
Is through the system
That in factual truth we are all equal
That there is no black or white
Only grey.
poem by Courtenay Maree
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All Different, But Still The Same
Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.
Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.
Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.
Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.
Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.
Some people like school, some people don’t.
Some people will excel, some people won’t.
Some people smoke cigarettes, some never will.
Some people are honest, some people steal.
Some people have book knowledge;
But don’t know the Holy Book.
Some people burn food, some people can cook.
Some people are old, some people are young.
Some people do smart things, some people do dumb.
Some people just have a diploma
Some people have degrees.
Some people do things slow, some with a breeze.
Some people are complainers, some easy to please.
Some people hate shopping, some stay in the mall.
Some people hate God, but God loves us all.
We are all different, but still the same.
When I get cut, I bleed red;
You get cut, red blood you’ll shed.
Some people are plump, some people are thin.
But we are all the same, we’re all human being.
Copyright © 2010-Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
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Girl Eighteen, Teacher Forty
This little story is so tragic
About a young girl who was just eighteen
Her cute lovely name is Monique
The most silly girl I have seen.
Monique had an old crazed professor
Who was a witless half of a man
A forty year old bald predator
Who would get young girls if he can.
One day she ran off with this teacher
And he did the same, left family
Unmindful of his sly, dubious character
Too young to have a grasp of reality.
After five years Monique had three kids
She had lost precious youth and was fat
Her beloved teacher repeated what he did
Got another girl and Monique, he forgot.
Now Monique lost everything but her soul
She would worry 'bout food for tomorrow
She remembered the wife whose husband she stole
And her words - 'You will reap what you sow.'
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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I read the script, and I knew it was a good part. It was written for a white actor. That's what I'm up against - I have to try to make roles happen for me that aren't written black.
quote by Gregory Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's also a question of finding good material and interesting roles. I'm not the only actress out there, and good parts just don't fall into your lap that easily. But I like most of the films I've made recently and so I'm pretty positive about the future.
quote by Winona Ryder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulling myself together for M'lady Ann Beard
In dreams I can communicate
with disparate parts of me.
I’m learning to appreciate.
The frightening complexity
Of the different parts of me.
Which I must balance constantly
A task I must face every day
so they combine to make me, me..
I am a father and a son.
I am a brother and a friend.
The endless list goes on and on.
It seems as though it has no end.
Somehow I manage to control
at least the parts on public view.
The scattered parts which make the whole
But still conceal a thing or two.
The parts of me I need to change.
I’m sure I can do given time.
Some parts of me are weird and strange.
Like creatures from an earlier time.
The Id tries to assert its will.
The ego sure to disagree.
The super ego bids them both be still.
I just accept they’re part of me.
When other people look at me.
I wonder if they wonder too
If they can see reality.
I am not certain that I do.
Wednesday,02 December 2009
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Ancient Scribbling
How did I get this ancient so very fast?
Seems like my 40th year is in the recent past.
Seventy one has just roared by like a freight train.
Now I trudge down the street in ever growing pain.
I truly believe in the reality of reincarnation.
These body parts were misused before my utilization.
I'm bald, but that feature causes me no fear;
What bothers me is each day there is less I can hear.
There's the deal about my memory and its phase;
Events of 50 years ago not bad… less for recent days.
As for my virility, I feel there is something wrong.
I tried to see four doctors, but the lines were too long.
I guess things aren't really as bad as they sound.
I had kidney-prostate cancer and am above ground.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Grand-stranding
With little success at hair retention
I've one strand left of small dimension
Scalped this way, I'm not enthralled
One-stranded now, I'm follicle-y bald
It's hair raising to feel alone and bereft
Deserted by all it's brothers who left
This ordeal has the hair standing there pining
Atop my bald scalp, so hairless-ly shining
The lonesome strand just keeps on grieving
Missing its mates, since their mass leaving
So soulful and sad, it can't seem to find
On the scalp of this lad, a hair-piece of mind
My dome once covered with hair-filled density
Has no foreseeable future-tense-ity
For so loyally standing hair-ly at hand
I'll always be grateful to that one last grand strand
poem by Stanley Cooper
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There are always good parts. They may not pay what you want, and they may not have as many days' work as you want, they may not have the billing that you want, they may not have a lot of things, but - the content of the role itself - I find there are many roles.
quote by Anne Bancroft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I just pick the best roles that are left over, and they usually aren't the heterosexual, leading-man, non-drug-addict parts. And once you get into doing them, people know you do them.
quote by Peter Sarsgaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The opposites
I could be fat, you could be thin
I could be red, you could be green
I could have hair, you could be bold
I could be young, you could be old
I could be weak, you could be strong
I could be right, you could be wrong
Until the people start to yawn
The list could go on and on
The point that I would like to make
Depends on what it is at stake
The opposites of certain kind
Complete each other when combined
Who’s young today, tomorrow’s old
Had head of hair, now – bold
I won’t be lying under oath
It’s either or, but never both!
poem by Slava Olchevski
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When Judgement Comes
Bad things happen to bad people
and bad things happen to good people.
They say only the good die young
but in driven droves the bad die young
also except when the bad die young
usually nobody notices and or nobody cares.
When bad things happen to good people
usually friends neighbours relatives people
will willingly come flock to their aid
but for the hand mind which chose evil paid
reality check is alarm wake up call delayed
death judgement waits for every soul rewards...
are made paid
according to choices
choices greedy good
or evil before the spade
all are weighed measured
in judgement of soul lost saved?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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We have reversed the usual classical notion that the independent "elementary parts" of the world are the fundamental reality, and that the various systems are merely particular contingent forms and arrangements of these parts. Rather, we say that inseparable quantum interconnectedness of the whole universe is the fundamental reality, and that relatively independent behaving parts are merely particular and contingent forms within this whole.
quote by David Bohm
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It Was Nothing....
orally fixated said he
to the two handsome men aboard that boat
going to an island
where paradise is rumored
on the other side
is a young man and a young woman
too in love
they were holding hands
throughout the trip
her head resting on his
chest
the sound of the boat is insistent
slashing the sea
into a slit of foam and bubble
i was alone, spying on every human aspect
of the trip
to that rumored paradise
they all look at me
thinking that i must be weird or cruel
not having with me anyone
i do not mind
i am on this curious trip to that rumored paradise
spying on every one who is on that boat
i am the spectator
taking notes inside my mind
humanity is mixed nuts
and i am enjoying it
now orally fixated on every one
aboard that boat that shall take us to that rumored paradise
when we arrive there
it was nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blooming 18
Reality reality reality is always
You tattooed yourself what a piece of art
Youve already broken your mothers heart
When I was your age working my ass off
Your generations soft
Reality is always such a drag
For barely blooming eighteens
The barely blooming eighteen
Wants to know
Whats keeping her from searching
You cannot pierce that and
Youre dressed too tight
Got a lot to learn about wrong and right
So dye you hair, dads gonna wash it out
Come on wash out your mouth
Reality is always such a drag
For barely blooming eighteens
The barely blooming eighteen
Wants to know
Whats hiding in the shadow
Reality reality reality is always
Reality is always...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scholars
BALD heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Young People
Young people gather wood, rather rotten wood,
Relaxing as can be, relishing the coal of the fire;
They wait until death has arrived, on their doorstep,
When steps are taken to disturb the real fire of life.
Youth is spending a youth, young men and women,
All of them are splendid in jobs, worthwhile endeavour.
We space our life around the stages we encounter,
The young heart masters a new strategy, feeling good
About the way we wonder and wander, like burning wood.
The heart of red blood felt all right,
But young hearts defend themselves.
poem by Naveed Akram
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