ST-3 ... i was famous long ago

upon the shimmering stage of time

Sep 06, 2022

I was famous long ago before the advent of rock-solid-concepts transformed the streets. Back when a dime was a dime and truth didn’t matter all that much, it was well understood, its distance beyond comprehension, like a rich kid in torn jeans.

I was famous long ago before the edge of time fell and dreams were made from mud. I remember the crowds, the raw rush of focus, the demands for over the top performance. I remember you and your lost soul wavering across the stage like a spinning madman for the love of it all. In the archives of celluloid the facts fail miserably, the full feel left behind in the details of time, the tender force forever forgotten in the dust of seconds.

I was famous long ago when things were different and differences were similar. Wars fought on solid earth and rock-on for a false free world was all that mattered. I remember remembrance days that stood deep in death and the mad mistake of remembering what could have been easily forgot, forgiven. When 'all you need is love' swam thru the air waves falling on soft hearts and dying next to you in a ditch, dark. I remember walt, iggy/jimmy and augustine strolling on fourth street, positively in the ruins of it all lifting souls to a new high that would no sooner crash them down again. I remember when these memories were real and thought was just another day on the avenue. I remember the old times lost now in digital bites scattered across the new mechanical brains devising procedures for a new world.

I was famous long ago, forgotten here but still swimming around the eons of eternity for a mind-scape to land upon.

JoJo McLeod…Once We Were, Yet Now We Are Still

I am famous at last alone here in this deserted cafe of thought and romance. Fame is no more than a label on a form, some over advertised, some straight to the point, real as promised, many false, fake, a disappointment, unreal, but true real art outlives its creator and the fame of it all dies somehow, somewhere along the trail.

Conspiracies and dead fish on the shore lines, waves smashing mathematical theories across the stage, she was famous for her rose is a rose is a rose and he was walking a first prose verse thru the eclipse of a broken art. They were all famous along the alleyways of man, the last song and the last dance on the last radio show staged to linger for a century or two or more.

Across the Stratocaster’s of Unknown Fame

I was famous too, there in the streets of glory when time fell across my shoulders like a stratocaster. I read the ingredients, it was all natural they said, made of clay and water all the way from france, but it wasn’t. It was hard sound. The audience went nuts, couldn't get enough, screamed till they fainted, clapped till blind.

We were all famous in our day for a moment or two, but days fade and time dies and meaning escapes unscathed and the stage is set and the curtains rise for another beaten star in this shift of memory moving in and out as a grace of space. Fame falling, falling like time on a dime.

We are all famous amongst the stars, the ether, as it is promised we live on, beyond the chains of time? We are all precious in simple love. We all see where no seeing exists, through those famous few moments where eternity lives.