Delusion's Signposts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Many would argue happiness needs not fame. When will patron intelligence rise above the clutter and recognize the malaise of celebritydom addiction? (Painting by Edward Hopper 1904 “Solitary Figure in a Theater”)

Delusion’s Signposts



There were signposts
along the way.


Any missed?



Marooned in a paradise,
a reputation growing,
how glorious the surge.


From such distant darkness did he come,
traversing mountains of agent ice,
rivers of producer rage,
temperate zones of starlet heat.


He arrived late upon the flowering cacti,
falsely imbued with the silver spoon,
sipping expected pleasures for the taking.




Nightmares lit up his night
with childhood signposts: "Don't Touch,"
teen signposts: "Grow Up,"
young adult signposts: "Danger Ahead,"
adult signposts: "Beware."


So many identified warnings.
Eyes open?
Eyes closed?

Ignoring “everything is what it is.”


The all of it was…


He was a good kid.
Ate his veggies.
Earned his merit badges.
Made Valedictorian.
Married the Prom Queen.
Turned down scholarships.


After all…


Carnal joys beckoned,

some slipped,

some missed,

dreams of fame’s privileges evaporating?





Assistant to the 1st Assistant
Learn the moves.
Make the moves.
Deal out the moves.


Make it to…


Glittering red carpets.
Prom Queen long gone.
Lanky, leggy trophies on each arm







What the fuck!!


"Sharp Curve Ahead!"

Self-absorbed delusion speeds forth into…


“Where the hell are the signposts?”




Submitted: April 02, 2019

© Copyright 2022 Odin Roark. All rights reserved.

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Bert Broomberg

This is a great social comment. I greatly enjoyed it.

Tue, April 2nd, 2019 6:15am

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