The Ballad of Tiseltown

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

Submitted: September 16, 2020

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Submitted: September 16, 2020

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If you really want to know the truth
about the golden gal you stand above,

Here's a few words before the next tour bus comes:

To show some respect for her grave I say- 
"go home and stay."

Because her graffitied, worn out bricks 
make up the skin and bones of the bitch
braded simply as- the city 

But she's my home
and she's got so much more to her
than you'll ever want to know

 

Do you really think you have her spirit? 
with a few daisies in your hair


really think you have her eyes? 
That show your concern and care

Do you 
really think her track marks are signs of 'glamour'? 
when you know, damn well, you put them there

Sold out, prostituted, washed up on her own coasts
She suffocated from the ashes of who you used to be

Not to mention drowning from polluted counties

thanks to parties where you "lived life to the most" 

Blinded by flash photography she croaked, 
"You don't even know me!"

 

We don't need your dirty cash, no we'll be just fine
You know that's how she got her name
and was allowed to survive

Please don't name California as your home to be
if you refuse to acknowledge her children
who starve from your greed

You only see her Coachella heart, her Napa valley eyes
with no mention of her armpits of Sunset and Vines

You ignore the gunshots in her ears and
the boarded up million dollar masions- vacant for years

Don't forget her many tongues,
you had the audacity to assume English was the only one?

 

;
Nah, you're only here for the fantasy, legends, and thrills

Beyond the souvenirs and nightlife creating the illusion 
that we celebrate all

There still exists black, white, rich, and poor
No it's okay, though, go take pics of the beach houses and shores

What do you mean if I read the retraction?
of what? of whom?? I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!

"She" was manufactured by the men who colonized her
Hollywood cranneys and nooks 

And we eat that shit up- we love to the processed look

 

I know my words mean as much as hers-
that's to say next to nothing to the likes of you

Well, if you still "love" her- be my guest

Get in line to gentrify with the rest

Soon you may warn against the newest
strangers in a strangeland

And just maybe

if you finally know her, 

You'll also learn to detest the ones who love to disrobe her.
 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2020 lauren-la-bruja. All rights reserved.

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