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I grew up on Bette Davis movies, and Marlene Dietrich, Marilyn Monroe.

quote by Charlize Theron
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Marlene

Marlene
Marlene, youre the prettiest girl Ive ever seen
Do you care for me at all
Marlene, I care for you
And I just dont care who knows it
And I guess that means that I love you
Marlene
Marlene, whod believe that youre only seventeen
Im in trouble if your folks get mean
And if they do
Then I dont care if they bust me
And I guess that means that I love you
I dont need no fantasies
Just one thing I need
I you could make it here, marlene
Dear marlene, marlene
Marlene, when I think that it all is just a dream
I remember that your eyes are green
And mine are blue
They will always see each other
And I guess that means that I love you
I dont need realities
Just one thing I need
If you could make it here marlene
Dear marlene, marlene
Marlene, Im depending on you now
Marlene

song performed by Todd Rundgren
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The Letter

Dear Marlene………
Sweet heart of the dead
Adored by generations not yet born
Marlene we love you.

Your beauty burned the wings of JFK
And brought big John to his knees
For your love, was meant for more.
You shocked the World with a velvet kiss
An elegant truth in a sea of Fools

It took one voice to start a War,
One bullet to unite false prophets
One woman to speak out
You ostracized the Nazis for what they were.
Stood tall, through treason
Did not follow, Hitler’s Spell
Chose to Love America s freedom instead.

When Reapers scythe came
Song and Compassion was your shield.
It Gave comfort to the damned as shell and mortar pound
Your words a respite, from the fear
And your beauty, a reminder.
That love awaits the Soldiers return.
Back to the German farms and the English meadows
For love knows nothing of war.

You witnessed holy sacrilege,
Saw blind disciples fuel the reapers fire
Both sides, in the name of god,
Oh how heaven must have wept

Marlene you dared to question religion,
For Your soul could see through the flames,
While others perished in mortals Pride.
You Asked god to review his plan.
Only you, Marlene could do that

Where have all the flowers gone
Your message to Humanity,
But the Heinkel and the Spitfire
Flew too high to hear
And the flowers of youth
All Eaten by silent sheep, and taken to yet another slaughter.

Yet be proud Marlene
For Your echo awakened a new generation to peace,
Although lasting peace is like true love, so hard to find,
But never the less, a goal we devote our lives to.

[...] Read more

poem by Steven Cooke
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A New Marilyn

Got one now with a catholic name
A little less righteous she aint quite the same
Walkin the streets under the media moon
Silvery screen paints her sultry tune
She wears her lipstick outside of the lines
Picture on the cover of the new york times
The mole on her cheek looks like her very own
She lives and breathes in a new marilyn home
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Where would she be after twenty five years
What would she think if she were to hear
Everywhere you look theres somebody new
Trying to replace you trying to replace you marilyn
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Isnt this a great party
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn

song performed by Vonda Shepard
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Born Out Of Time

Come on out please let me stay here, I wont make any trouble
Whats the idea, you cant stay in here
Come out I tell you
But your dog will bite me
Oh nonsense, major doesnt bite girls
Come on, hurry up, it happens to be raining out here
Ive seen all your movies, at least 3 or 4 times
And have on my wall, a large picture of you
But you were that pretty young star, so long ago
Im born out of time with ya
What can I do
Maybe, Im silly to think wed have made it
But what Id had given to at least had a try
Oh take me back with you 1939
cause black and white movies are making me cry
And born out of time, we slipped hopelessly by
Sophia loren, bridgett bardo, jean harlowe,
Marilyn monroe and marlene deitrich
Youre better, youre better than any Im seeing
Yes, you were a real beauty queen
Oh listen people, has it happened to you yet
The feeling that someone was born out of time
Will you love someone, physically much too young for you
Either way, its a shame, time was so cruel
But its nice that that, generally, isnt the rule
Sophia loren, bridgett bardo, jean harlowe,
Marilyn monroe and marlene deitrich
Youre better, youre better than any Im seeing
Yes, you were a real beauty queen
And clark gables who I should have been

song performed by Rick Springfield
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Lili Marlene

(m. david/n. schulze/h. leip)
Outside the barracks by the corner light
Darling I remember how Id wait for you at night
There wed create a world for two, Id wait for you
The whole night through, was there that youd whisper tenderly
That you loved me, youd always be
Be my lili marlene, be my lili marlene
Id give you a rose to show I care,
And wind it through your golden hair
Then we would say goodnight and part,
Ill always keep you in my heart
With me lili marlene, with me lili marlene
My lili of the lamplight, my own lili marlene

song performed by Carly Simon
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Silver Screen Sex Sirens

managers producers
editors slicing waste scenes
Marilyn Monroe takes

so many takes
illnesses personal problems
so difficult stars

on screen illusions
sleep disturbances
substance abuses

hypersexuality sex kittens
disturbed interpersonal relationships
model magazine successes

magnetic sex appeals
silver screen bombshells
strong screen presences

Marlene Dietrich

Greta Garbo
Jean Harlow
Marilyn Monroe

make-believe games
solo performances
girl actresses dreams

amateur theatres
inferiority complexes
imaginative minds

soft liquid allure eyes
on-screen chemistry kisses
act out intriguing roles

depression anxieties
life-long melancholies
diverse eccentricities

baby embraces her stars
jet-set wealthy celebrities
well known personalities

celeb watchers
sport of photographers
media admirers

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Late Marlene

Walking out of nowhere
And I let you in
Til my imagination, went for a spin
I seen you every night
Been making out since then
And still I wonder why everybodys saying
That ice is thin.
And I think I know you
Just a little bit by now
And I think I can show you
You see baby, I dont want to fight about it...
Send down your rain,
Then whos to blame?
And youll understand because its much too late to change.
Awaken to this hunger
And then watch my heat
Grow paler than the moonlight
That you made me eat
And if we run our lives
Along a one way street
Well always wonder why everytime -
It still tastes just as sweet
And I think I know you
Just a little bit by now
And I think I can show you
You see baby, I dont want to fight about it...
(chorus)
I will explain, (too late)
Were to much the same, (too late)
No I wont leave
Because its just too late marlene
-
You see baby, I dont want to fight about it...
(chorus)
I will explain, (too late)
Were to much the same, (too late)
No I wont leave
Because its just just too late marlene
Too late
Too late
Too late marlene
Too late
Too late
Too late marlene
Repeat..

song performed by Duran Duran
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Groovy Movies

Sometimes I think Im gonna better myself,
Searching for acceptance in this big, wide world.
Sometimes I think I wont make it,
Playing in a rock n roll band.
Sometimes I wanna be a picture director,
And try to make the world understand.
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies.
All the movie makers of the world would be,
Falling over backwards to have dinner with me.
Ill go down to [? ]
Anytime I feel like a game[? ].
Or take a long vacation to san tropez,
And think of all the money I made.
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies.
I dont want to be a producer,
I dont want to be a big star.
I just want to be a picture director,
And smoke a big havana cigar.
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies,
By making groovy movies.

song performed by Kinks
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Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue

ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.

SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.

HELEN
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
'T is long since thou and I have met;
And yet methinks it were unkind
Those moments to forget.
Come, sit by me. I see thee stand
By this lone lake, in this far land,
Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying
To the hues of yon fair heaven.
Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me?
And be as thou wert wont to be
Ere we were disunited?
None doth behold us now; the power
That led us forth at this lone hour
Will be but ill requited
If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come,
And talk of our abandoned home!
Remember, this is Italy,
And we are exiles. Talk with me
Of that our land, whose wilds and floods,
Barren and dark although they be,
Were dearer than these chestnut woods;
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
And the blue mountains, shapes which seem
Like wrecks of childhood's sunny dream;
Which that we have abandoned now,
Weighs on the heart like that remorse
Which altered friendship leaves. I seek
No more our youthful intercourse.
That cannot be! Rosalind, speak,
Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come,
When evening fell upon our common home,
When for one hour we parted,--do not frown;
I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken;
But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token
Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown,
Turn, as 't were but the memory of me,
And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee!

ROSALIND
Is it a dream, or do I see
And hear frail Helen? I would flee
Thy tainting touch; but former years
Arise, and bring forbidden tears;

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Sad Movies

Sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
He said he had to work, so I went to the show alone.
They turned down the lights and turned the projector on.
And just as the news of the world started to begin,
I saw my darling and my best friend walking in.
Although I was sitting right there they didnn see me.
And so they both sat right down in the front of me.
And when he kissed her lips then I almost died.
And in the middle of the colour cartoon I started to cry.
Oh sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
And so I got on up and slowly I walked on home,
And mama saw the tears and said baby what is wrong.
And so just to keep from telling her a lie,
I just said sad movies makes me cry.
Oh sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry
Sad movies always make me cry

song performed by Boney M.
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Only In The Making Of Movies

Only in the making of movies,
Are actors found to be handed scripts.
To then learn lines some find to be tedious.
And time well spent is sacrificed to deliver,
What's right for the price...
For the cost being paid.

Camera angles are selected,
By a director who chooses the best scenes.
And the actors are blocked within them,
To emote with belief as an audince viewing this...
Sits,
With their emotions manipulated.

Only in the making of movies,
Are 'realities' depicted.
Although many in the audience become captivated,
With beliefs they also can deceive truth easily.
By saying and doing things they wish to sell.
With hopes their 'portrayals' have gone over well.

And only those who become offended,
They can not sell lies they told to tell...
Are those who become combative,
When confronted by others...
Who are specific and direct AND caring less,
How a charade is masqueraded to address.

Only in the making of movies,
Are actors found to be handed scripts.
To then learn lines some find to be tedious.
Until what is done has been finished.
But many unpaid to 'act' but embellish facts,
Find it difficult to strip away all their fantasies.

Only in the making of movies...
No one sits back to snack.
Only in the making of movies...
Every actor wants to get paid.
And,
Only in the making of movies...
No one sits back to snack.
No one has time for that,
Since a budget has to be paid back.
Oh.
Only in the making of movies...
No one sits back to snack.
Only in the making of movies...
Every actor wants to get paid.
And,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Girl Actresses Dreams

magnetic sex appeals
silver screen bombshells
strong screen presences

Marlene Dietrich

Greta Garbo
Jean Harlow
Marilyn Monroe

make-believe games
solo performances
girl actresses dreams

amateur theatres
inferiority complexes
imaginative minds

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Love And Marilyn Monroe

(after Spillane)

Let us be aware of the true dark gods
Acknowledgeing the cache of the crotch
The primitive pure and pwerful pink and grey
private sensitivites
Wincing, marvelous in their sweetness, whence rises
the future.

Therefore let us praise Miss Marilyn Monroe.
She has a noble attitude marked by pride and candor
She takes a noble pride in the female nature and torso
She articualtes her pride with directness and exuberance
She is honest in her delight in womanhood and manhood.
She is not a great lady, she is more than a lady,
She continues the tradition of Dolly Madison and Clara
Bow
When she says, "any woman who claims she does not like
to be grabbed is a liar!"
Whether true or false, this colossal remark
states a dazzling intention...

It might be the birth of a new Venus among us
It atones at the very least for such as Carrie Nation
For Miss Monroe will never be a blue nose,
and perhaps we may hope
That there will be fewer blue noses because
she has flourished --
Long may she flourish in self-delight and the joy
of womanhood.
A nation haunted by Puritanism owes her homage and
gratitude.

Let us praise, to say it again, her spiritual pride
And admire one who delights in what she has and is
(Who says also: "A woman is like a motor car:
She needs a good body."
And: "I sun bathe in the nude, because I want
to be blonde all over.")

This is spiritual piety and physical ebullience
This is vivd glory, spiritual and physical,
Of Miss Marilyn Monroe.

poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Look at The Clock!' : Patty Morgan The Milkmaid's Story

FYTTE I.

'Look at the Clock!' quoth Winifred Pryce,
As she open'd the door to her husband's knock,
Then paus'd to give him a piece of advice,
'You nasty Warmint, look at the Clock!
Is this the way, you
Wretch, every day you
Treat her who vow'd to love and obey you?
Out all night!
Me in a fright;
Staggering home as it's just getting light!
You intoxified brute! you insensible block!
Look at the Clock!-- Do!-- Look at the Clock!'

Winifred Pryce was tidy and clean,
Her gown was a flower'd one, her petticoat green,
Her buckles were bright as her milking cans,
And her hat was a beaver, and made like a man's;
Her little red eyes were deep set in their socket-holes,
Her gown-tail was turn'd up, and tuck'd through the pocket-holes:
A face like a ferret
Betoken'd her spirit:
To conclude, Mrs. Pryce was not over young,
Had very short legs, and a very long tongue.

Now David Pryce
Had one darling vice;
Remarkably partial to anything nice,
Nought that was good to him came amiss,
Whether to eat, or to drink, or to kiss!
Especially ale --
If it was not too stale
I really believe he'd have emptied a pail;
Not that in Wales
They talk of their Ales;
To pronounce the word they make use of might trouble you,
Being spelt with a C, two Rs, and a W.

That particular day,
As I've heard people say,
Mr. David Pryce had been soaking his clay,
And amusing himself with his pipe and cheroots,
The whole afternoon at the Goat in Boots,
With a couple more soakers,
Thoroughbred smokers,
Both, like himself, prime singers and jokers;
And, long after day had drawn to a close,
And the rest of the world was wrapp'd in repose,
They were roaring out 'Shenkin!' and 'Ar hydd y nos;'

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Harris Barham
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Card Swapping

O’Brien brought
cigarette cards

to school
and showed you

what he had
in the playground

and Davis said
who’s the dame?

Veronica Lake
O’ Brien said

holding the card out
between finger and thumb

Sutcliffe took hold of it
and held it close

to his eyes
not bad

he said
you looked over

Sutcliffe’s shoulder
my dad likes her

you said studying
the picture

taking it
from Sutcliffe’s hand

who else you got?
Davis asked

and O’Brien fingered
through the pack

mostly soccer players
and the odd movie star

he said
hey got any Marilyn Monroe?

Sutcliffe said
gazing short-sightedly

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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The Witch of Hebron

A Rabbinical Legend

Part I.
From morn until the setting of the sun
The rabbi Joseph on his knees had prayed,
And, as he rose with spirit meek and strong,
An Indian page his presence sought, and bowed
Before him, saying that a lady lay
Sick unto death, tormented grievously,
Who begged the comfort of his holy prayers.
The rabbi, ever to the call of grief
Open as day, arose; and girding straight
His robe about him, with the page went forth;
Who swiftly led him deep into the woods
That hung, heap over heap, like broken clouds
On Hebron’s southern terraces; when lo!
Across a glade a stately pile he saw,
With gleaming front, and many-pillared porch
Fretted with sculptured vinage, flowers and fruit,
And carven figures wrought with wondrous art
As by some Phidian hand.

But interposed
For a wide space in front, and belting all
The splendid structure with a finer grace,
A glowing garden smiled; its breezes bore
Airs as from paradise, so rich the scent
That breathed from shrubs and flowers; and fair the growths
Of higher verdure, gemm’d with silver blooms,
Which glassed themselves in fountains gleaming light
Each like a shield of pearl.

Within the halls
Strange splendour met the rabbi’s careless eyes,
Halls wonderful in their magnificance,
With pictured walls, and columns gleaming white
Like Carmel’s snow, or blue-veined as with life;
Through corridors he passed with tissues hung
Inwrought with threaded gold by Sidon’s art,
Or rich as sunset clouds with Tyrian dye;
Past lofty chambers, where the gorgeous gleam
Of jewels, and the stainèd radiance

Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Harpur
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The King of the Vasse

A LEGEND OF THE BUSH.

MY tale which I have brought is of a time
Ere that fair Southern land was stained with crime,
Brought thitherward in reeking ships and cast
Like blight upon the coast, or like a blast
From angry levin on a fair young tree,
That stands thenceforth a piteous sight to see.
So lives this land to-day beneath the sun,—
A weltering plague-spot, where the hot tears run,
And hearts to ashes turn, and souls are dried
Like empty kilns where hopes have parched and died.
Woe's cloak is round her,—she the fairest shore
In all the Southern Ocean o'er and o'er.
Poor Cinderella! she must bide her woe,
Because an elder sister wills it so.
Ah! could that sister see the future day
When her own wealth and strength are shorn away,
A.nd she, lone mother then, puts forth her hand
To rest on kindred blood in that far land;
Could she but see that kin deny her claim
Because of nothing owing her but shame,—
Then might she learn 'tis building but to fall,
If carted rubble be the basement-wall.

But this my tale, if tale it be, begins
Before the young land saw the old land's sins
Sail up the orient ocean, like a cloud
Far-blown, and widening as it neared,—a shroud
Fate-sent to wrap the bier of all things pure,
And mark the leper-land while stains endure.
In the far days, the few who sought the West
Were men all guileless, in adventurous quest
Of lands to feed their flocks and raise their grain,
And help them live their lives with less of pain
Than crowded Europe lets her children know.
From their old homesteads did they seaward go,
As if in Nature's order men must flee
As flow the streams,—from inlands to the sea.

In that far time, from out a Northern land,
With home-ties severed, went a numerous band
Of men and wives and children, white-haired folk:
Whose humble hope of rest at home had broke,
As year was piled on year, and still their toil
Had wrung poor fee from -Sweden's rugged soil.
One day there gathered from the neighboring steads,
In Jacob Eibsen's, five strong household heads,—
Five men large-limbed and sinewed, Jacob's sons,

[...] Read more

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Helen In Hollywood

When she goes to Hollywood
she is an angel.

She writes in red red lipstick
on the window of her body,
long for me, oh need me!
Parts her lips like a lotus.

Opening night she stands, poised
on her carpet, luminescent,
young men humming
all around her. She is flying.
Her high heels are wands, her
furs electric. Her bracelets
flashing. How completely
dazzling her complexion,
how vibrant her hair and eyes,
how brilliant the glow that spreads
four full feet around her.

She is totally self conscious
self contained
self centered,
caught in the blazing central eye
of our attention.

We infuse her.
Fans, we wave at her
like handmaids, unabashedly,
we crowd on tiptoe pressed together
just to feel the fission of the star
that lives on earth,
the bright, the angel sun
the luminescent glow of someone
other than we.
Look! Look! She is different.
Medium for all our energy
as we pour it through her.
Vessel of light,
Her flesh is like flax,
a living fiber.
She is the symbol of our dreams and fears
and bloody visions, all
our metaphors for living in America.

Harlowe, Holiday, Monroe

Helen
When she goes to Hollywood
she is the fire for all purposes.

[...] Read more

poem by Judy Grahn
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I loved the movies and I wanted to be like Marilyn Monroe. I thought she was so glamorous and everyone seemed to love her. I wanted to be like that and I told everyone I would be the next Marilyn Monroe.

quote by Sharon Stone
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Marilyn Monroe.

A tragic angel of sex,
A seductive child woman,
A legendary Love Goddess,
A blonde, a beauty persona,
A voice as much voluptuous,
You, Marilyn Monroe,
As betrayed by those who mattered you,
And ill-loved by those who you mattered,
Having taken over doze of sleeping pills,
In 1962, a fateful year of sex hunters,
At the most ripe age of six and thirty,
Over the failure of much cherished
Marital bond with Robert Kennedy,
Had left us high and dry as sex starved.

From a poor soil and from a broken home,
You came out as an illegitimate child.
You were not to die as an invalid.
You found that your body was an asset,
With which you wanted to bet the world,
With which you wanted to take revenge
On all men, low and high, who fell by.
You had slept with many,
Even for a paltry sum.
You sold yourself for your need and growth,
Never for lust. You are not a man hunter.

You were deserted by three husbands.
You were belied by Robert Kennedy.
He wanted your body, not the soul.
You purred every one to lust you and burst
You used sex as a powerful weapon
To fight with and to beat with,
For the rise to the pedestal, so as to love from.

You sought love nowhere.
You lost it everywhere.
Love hungry and name hungry,
You were too fast to find love anywhere.
You had tuned up for men atop.
Had you turned down to fans below,
You could have got fountain of love.
I take pity for your sad death.
The solace is that I had my youth
Before you had had your last breath.
Your erotic profile still is in my memory.
A woman of sacrifice is Marilyn Monroe.
01.05.2002, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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