Famous
I don't
Want to be
Famous.
I'll be
Hounded
By the
Paparazzi.
They'll
Make
Money
Out of my
Every little
Story…
Without
Even
Verifying
If there's
An iota
Of truth
In what
They
Write
About me.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee

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Paparazzi
Paparazzi, cant make the man.
Paparazzi, cant break the man.
Next to the transit lounge
See the paparazzi tears.
No-one came in today
From boston or tangiers.
And in departures ---
Only faceless trippers trip,
Loaded with duty free
Held in white knuckle grip.
Snap it up, flash away ---
Steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
The news is running late tonight.
Be-decked with nikon necklaces
Hear the paparazzi cries.
Under their noses walk
The famous in disguise.
Conspicuously huddled there
But no-one stops to look.
Theyve got their crayons out
To colour in the book.
Snap it up, flash away ---
Steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
Paparazzi wont be home tonight.
Paparazzi --- write it down.
Paparazzi --- turn it around.
Paparazzi --- take it, fake it,
Break it.
'cos its a story.
Now someones cut the lines
Communications down.
All photo film is fogged.
Celebrities surround
And jab their fingers at me.
They kiss but I cant tell.
Even poor paparazzi
Must have privacy as well.
Snap it up, flash away ---
Steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
The news is running late tonight.
Snap it up, flash away ---
Steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
Paparazzi wont be home tonight.
song performed by by Jethro Tull

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I've learned is that you really don't need to be a celebrity or have money or have the paparazzi following you around to be famous.
Who Does Not Really Want To Write The Best Poem In The World?
yes, a five-star poem.
the one fit for first prize
awards, the one that will
make you famous
worldwide,
who does not like to
go on tv? read that famous
poem personally.
me? sorry i don't.
i am tired writing the best poem
of my life
been writing for years
i can imagine
trying to fit in
with the most famous ones
dead and alive
but i know i can never write it
because i can't
because i don't
because i do not have any reason
to write it.
i love to write.
AND that is foremost.
that is final. nothing ambitious.
nothing to change your world
or this world or that world
nothing to influence another
indonesian or turk
or swedish or
anybody or anything
what advantage do i get
when i say i just love to write
when i say i do not want to write the best poem in the world?
nothing, except the joy of having
to make the deep breath
in my life.
air that fills my lungs
and make me dream and make me sleep
longer than you do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Death In My Hands
Hellow, i took a pen to write a story,
the story that seemed scary,
but liked by those bully,
Now they want another story,
The story that gave them money,
money that brought them honey,
the honey that made them hurray,
Now am a wanted as i refused,
the story came from my brain,
which accereleted to my hand,
decorated with my pen,
through my fascinating fingers,
poem by Dickson Mseti

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To Speak Or Not To Speak?
social contexts
public blunders
entrapment potentials
contrast expectations
when I've said too much!
with I haven't said enough!
context carefully consider this?
explore image fixation artists
spaz set in spotlight comments...
love primary paradoxes
mystery more is less
pulling potent stories
picture portrait contrast
sitting lost in shadow corners
paparazzi media out of sight
genuine personality private
versus intense public spotlight
interior exterior dialogues...
speaker is actually famous
trendy celebrity performer face
caught pants down or on red carpet
paparazzi blitz frames in spotlight
is literal versus unknown in public
metaphor for unknown unseen out about
paparazzi nose tease pout delivers
six degrees of celebrity connections
paparazzi pride dissects best tidbits...
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Money Power
Money is the need of life
Everyone loves this, either mother or wife
Yes, it is very lovable-
Why not, as it gives us respect and make us able
We can buy every precious thing
And some say, if you have money only then have "Honey"
We can by-pass any law and order-
Using money and speak louder
But money cannot replace truth
Yet it can hide it on mysterious earth
It cannot make us to sleep
But it can make us to weep
Money is the dust of our hand
Which will be washed away when we wash hand
Money can make us respectful
But it cannot make us truthful
Money should not be treated as everything
Or we will miss truthness of worldly things
Everything should not be done just for some money
Or we will miss love of others, which will make us funny
Earn money don't pride of it
Love money don't do crime for it
Or God will make distance from you
You are his only son, is the truthest true
Money is not life but life is money
The tour of life is very "Turny"
Humanity is the first duty of ours
Search for truth and get success in yours Life's Tour
poem by Shashank Dwivedi

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Famous Fable
The famous fable,
The famous table,
The famous stable,
The famous cable,
The famous babble,
The famous gable,
The famous parable,
The famous variable
The famous sable;
But, able to crown your love with my muse!
For, you are all that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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I Just Do It For the Enjoyment
I hear this all the time:
'Oh?
So you're a writer?
What else do you do?
How much money do you make? '
I write poetry!
'Ooooohhh!
So you like to write 'poooems'?
I use to do that,
When I was in elementary school.
You make money from doing that? '
No.
I just do it for the enjoyment!
'Oh gawd!
You're one of those sentimentalists?
One driven by emotions and unresolved issues?
Confused by life!
And abused by a dysfunctional upbringing.'
I suppose.
But I currently have two books out!
'Nooooo?
But no one's into reading poetry! '
Me either.
I didn't say I read it!
I write it!
'Oh!
Well...
You 'must' be doing it for the money? '
Not yet!
That's next!
'You want me to help you? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Oh To Be Wealthy And Famous
Oh to be wealthy and famous living in a big house by the sea
With a Rolls Royce in my garage of money worries quite free
Seen as a successful person with heaps of money to spend
Everyone would want to know me everyone would be my friend.
I could help the poor and needy for others I could do good
I could help you out then poor fellow instead of saying I would help you if I could
Money it speaks every language pity the poor and downtrod
Surely there is nothing greater than money the great paper god.
I could do wonders with money help those in dire poverty
Be an example to others to worthy causes donate generously
Instead I struggle for survival one of the poor of our Street
Life for me an uphill battle struggling for to make ends meet.
Oh to be wealthy and famous the wealthiest man in the Town
I could be generous with money help those financially down
Instead I am just a poor battler who would wish to be my friend
I who must be careful with money and count every dollar I spend?
poem by Francis Duggan

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I write
I write and imagine
and create my own story
and what I think I write down
without anybody being able to stop me
and there’s a knight clothed in steel
who’s finished fighting and unsaddles his horse.
I write and imagine
and make everybody’s story
of peace descending to earth,
children honouring their parents,
being exemplary and prepared to study,
but reality is cruel and naked
and I write and imagine.
poem by Gert Strydom

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Why I Write?
I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face
poem by Asif Andalib

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Big Money
Big money goes around the world
Big money underground
Big money got a mighty voice
Big money make no sound
Big money pull a million strings
Big money hold the prize
Big money weave a mighty web
Big money draw the flies
Sometimes pushing people around
Sometimes pulling out the rug
Sometimes pushing all the buttons
Sometimes pulling out the plug
It's the power and the glory
It's a war in paradise
It's a cinderella story
On a tumble of the dice
Big money goes around the world
Big money take a cruise
Big money leave a mighty wake
Big money leave a bruise
Big money make a million dreams
Big money spin big deals
Big money make a mighty head
Big money spin big wheels
Sometimes building ivory towers
Sometimes knocking castles down
Sometimes building you a stairway --
Lock you underground
It's that old-time religion
it's the kingdom they would rule
It's the fool on television
Getting paid to play the fool
Big money goes around the world
Big money give and take
Big money done a power of good
Big money make mistakes
Big money got a heavy hand
Big money take control
Big money got a mean streak
Big money got no soul
song performed by by Rush

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Big Money
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Big money goes around the world
Big money underground
Big money got a mighty voice
Big money make no sound
Big money pull a million strings
Big money hold the prize
Big money weave a mighty web
Big money draw the flies
Sometimes pushing people around
Sometimes pulling out the rug
Sometimes pushing all the buttons
Sometimes pulling out the plug
Its the power and the glory
Its a war in paradise
Its a cinderella story
On a tumble of the dice
Big money goes around the world
Big money take a cruise
Big money leave a mighty wake
Big money leave a bruise
Big money make a million dreams
Big money spin big deals
Big money make a mighty head
Big money spin big wheels
Sometimes building ivory towers
Sometimes knocking castles down
Sometimes building you a stairway --
Lock you underground
Its that old-time religion
Its the kingdom they would rule
Its the fool on television
Getting paid to play the fool
Big money goes around the world
Big money give and take
Big money done a power of good
Big money make mistakes
Big money got a heavy hand
Big money take control
Big money got a mean streak
Big money got no soul...
song performed by by Rush

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How much money do you need to be happy?
How much money do you need to be happy?
Poor man
How much money should you have to be happy?
Greedy man
How much money do you want to be happy?
Thrifty man
How many men would you corrupt to have money?
Gentleman
How many people would you kill to get money?
Coward man
How many children would you exploit to make money?
Hungry man
How many laws would you break to be rich?
Dishonest man
How many illegal ways would you use to be wealthy?
Weak man
How many lies would you tell to gather money?
Sick man
How many friends would you betray to get money?
Thirsty man
How much damage would you cause to make money?
Blind man
How much power do you need to be proud?
Mad man
How much power do you need to lead the crowd?
Bad man
How much power do you require to kick the world?
Ugly man
How much power do you need to be satisfied?
Selfish man
How much power do you need to be happy?
Sad man
How much hate do you want to be famous?
Wrong man
How much hate do you need to stop massacres?
Dwarf man
How much sorrow do you want to love the other?
Fool man
How much misery do-you want to be happy?
Crazy man
poem by Bouche Cousue

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Artiste
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
I brush your hair,
with gentle strokes,
with a touch of brown,
and of you on your bed.
I'll make you blush and glow,
With a single stroke I can
make you smile again,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
I would write the words,
to tell you how I feel,
And maybe make this real,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
a love that would bind
our two hearts,
write words of love for your voice,
as I let it wash over me,
of kissing your lips and the taste of you,
But I am only me,
as you can see.
RG/RR
poem by Robert Green

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Famous Groupies
All stand back, let the people see
Take a snap of the famous groupies for me
Behold the famous groupies
They are alike as two peas
And where the other goes, the other goes
But though the famous groupies
Are only paid in rupies
Nobody knows what the famous groupies know
And nobody goes where the famous groupies go
There was a bango player
Who kept an extra layer
Of dunlopillo mattress in his van
But when the famous groupies
Arived with their twin snoopies
Nobody saw which way the poor boy ran
Nobody does it like a famous groupie can
All stand back, let the people see
Take a snap of the famous groupies for me
There was a lead guitarist
Who lived in epping forest
And all he ever wanted was to blow
When the girls were with him
He never lost his rhythm
And nobody knows what the famous groupies know
Nobody goes where the famous groupies go
There was a classic story
Of a roadic nicknamed rory
Who used to practice voodoo on the side
When the famous twosome
Suggested something gruesome
All that they found was a crater two miles wide
Which left the music business absolutely horrified
Ladies and gentlemen, those magnificent examples of
Female pulchritude and luminosity, direct from their
Global perambulations to the very boards of this
Supremely magnificent proscenium arch - ladies and
Gentlemen; I give you famous groupies!
song performed by by Paul McCartney

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Nearly Famous
The record man saiddont let it go to your head,Im gonna make you a star
If youve got it,use it,but dont abuse it,gave me money from an old fruit jar
To exercise my delight,i went out that night and shook the town the way I knew
How
So mama please dont worry about me,Im nearly famous now
Six months later Im a cool operator,and I know my way around
The record man sighed,he really tried,but he couldnt get it off the ground
But that dont bother me now cos Ive got a friend whos gotta friend who
Really knows how
So mama please dont worry about me,Im nearly famous now
Still hanging on,still hanging on,hang on
I met this real live walking,self-styled,self-assured,slow talking bore
I thought Id play him along,give him a song,to keep the doom dust away from
My door
But I didnt do what he wanted me to,but it didnt seem to matter somehow
So mama please dont worry about me,Im nearly famous now
Still hanging on,still hanging on,hang on
Six months later Im a part time waiter,but that didnt last long
I stretched and squeezed at words Id never heard to write a song
And when it finally came,it sounded the same as a tune Id heard before
Somehow
But mama please dont worry about me,Im nearly famous now
Still hanging on.still hanging on
song performed by by Cliff Richard

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How To Make Money
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money;
tell me sweet love
you tell me
how to make money
how to make an easy billion
the world’s full of it
in cyberspace
and in shopping malls;
the world’s full of money schemes
in our real world
and where we buy a drink
or get more fries
it’s full on
about how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
make money, pal
they say
doing nothing;
I’ve got an auto system
and all you need is internet
and all you’ve got to do
is sit back and let the dollars roll
into your bank account
so tell me
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
come in to this meeting
another group says
and we’ll show you how
show you how easy it is
how easy it is to make money:
it’s auto, auto, auto, fully automated
and the money keeps coming;
the money rolls
rolls in, rolls in, rolls in
tell me
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money
it’s all so easy
because we want
you to enjoy the life
we’ve earned;
we’ve made our money
and we want you to share
in the happiness;
it’s all so easy, dear friends –
we’ll guide you each step of the way;
we’ll show you how to make the money
so they’ll tell us
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money:
the only thing is
what they mean is
how to make money for them, babe,
how to make money for them
with a simple transfer of money
transfer of money, transfer of money
transfer of money from the foolish
transfer of money from the foolish to the deceitful;
wealth is, dear darling,
wealth is the transfer of money
from the foolish to the cunning
how to make money,
baby;
how to make money;
tell me sweet love
you tell me
how to make money
how to make an easy billion
poem by Raj Arumugam

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I Write And I Will Always Write
i write not because i want to be famous
fame has its own place to take care of itself
i write not because i want to educate
people educate themselves and most of them are educated enough
with or without me
with or without my poems
i write not because i want to express my feelings
or display all my emotions like some sort of fireworks on the 4th of July
(maybe for quite a time i was that
a man making a ventilation
a fume looking for an opening
a pressure looking for a window
a failure seeking a redemption
a penalty asking for a reprieve
a criminal begging for pardon
a rebel detained and wishing for
pardon...
a ship looking for a destination
an island asking for its own place under the sun
a sigh desperately waiting for the mouth
whatever...
but now i begin to think so deeply
why do i write? and why do i write everyday?
and why poems? why not a novel or a short story?
or an essay on the fate of men
the conflicts within them
the wars that they have to face everyday
their deaths and
resurrections
their erections and negations
the women and their seductions
the world in its glory
history and its memory
i write because i owe my life to poetry
it has saved me from my misfortunes
i write because i want to thank the poems
i write because
i just want to say: thanks,
to express this eternal gratitude
now, that
i am still alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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