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Your Paparazzi

a poem

By P. D. MurrayPublished 9 months ago Updated 9 months ago 1 min read
"Mr. Bubble" Mixed media, 2021 P.D. Murray

They don’t really want me

Posed for the glam cams,

Smokey eyes smoldering,

As I strut the come-hither catwalk

Or grace the red carpet.

They don’t want me ready

For my close-up,

Glittery as a popinjay,

Parroting my agent’s points.

They’d rather catch me unawares,

Weeks later,

In a ripped Ramones tee,

Hungover on an unkempt beach.

My hair in a haystack.

My eyes carpet-baggers.

They want me brushing my teeth

And sitting in the loo.

They want me weepy, with relish

On my chin, my toes

Ugly as sin.

Your paparazzi need me

In the wings, uncertain,

Accident-prone, impaled by an instance

I never saw coming:

As in an orgasm,

As in a collision with you.

love poems

About the Creator

P. D. Murray

Murray is an accomplished painter and writer.

Through 2010, he was shown exclusively by Treehouse Studio Galleries. His work hangs in private collections around the world. He's also published 5 books. You can see more at www.pdmurray.art

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  • Tracy Willis4 months ago


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