The paparazzi
getting drunk on the poison of scandal
A merchant of bad news
how do you eat plastic wrap
Your mind food is repugnant to me
And all at once, amazes so many jealous people
And if beauty emanated from your art
One day, one night
Would you be able to reach a larger audience?
With the wild news of a natural space
For once, get close to a real volcano
Could make you realize the fragility of balance on earth
Why silence the good news
A corporate hitman, pledge of no bravery
How I hate you high fashion paparrazi
How to deal with being deprived alone
To souls in pain, and never in the beauty of a birth
After so many unsuccessful attempts
Or in the beauty of an aurora borealis in mid-May
Cleanse your hands of your sin
Let the green or colored grass grow under your feet
Don't take anything from the one who burned, too close to the lava
Take pictures of you, on your bad days,
And make it a diary
Here's an advertisement, here's a subject
To you who tends to scatter, talking about divorce and scandal
marvel, for a single day,
the beauty of good news
Forgot the stamp of a cliché
shred those fading star pics
Interest yourself with as much ardour, in the burning fire of your bad curiosity
leaves lost people,
give instead of take
Laying phosphorescent flowers, in a cloudless night
O you, how vile you can be,
Be for once a merchant of good news
Walk around town without your camera
breathe in the polluted air of this lively and flashless city
Maybe you can, for once, hear it arise within you,
A snowflake in summer,
Respects the delicacy of a rare flower
the life of an artist, who no longer wishes to denounce
But indeed an extinct volcano
Let yourself be steeped in this beauty,
Before your darkroom comes to contaminate the rest of humanity
Of a desperate being,
not them:
You
About the Creator
Valentina Savage
I like disaster stories. Naughty, strange, or romantic. Read me and subscrive. Thank you!
Valentina Savage x
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The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Fabulous and powerful indictment of the vermin celebrity ambulance chasers. A beautiful depiction of ugly people yet you slip hope in there all the same!