“A Chaser Of Fame” by L. K. Thayer

hovering over celebrity celluliod

imaging fame at it’s finest

frame by frame

transfixed on making it

you start shaking it, faking it

before you know it

you lose your soul to it

keep your feet firmly

on the ground

look around

before you drown

be careful

what you wish for

Photo & Poem by L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Cigar Bar” by L. K. Thayer

I went from downward facing dog in Hollywood

to the

V Cut Smoke Shop & Lounge

watched the Minnesota Vikings win the game

in the smoky beat-up red leather couch room

with a bullfighter on the wall swinging his cape

dancing to Aretha Franklin’s “Rock Steady”

straight as an arrow, cigar in hand, smoke rings

swirling to the rhythm of poetic

spontaneous combustion on a rainy

Sunday afternoon in L.A.

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

V Cut Smoke Shop & Lounge

© 2010

“Papa-rot-sea” by Scott Edmund Lane

Downtown at the Uptown/
the class clown/
runnin’ on fumes of toxic clutter/
muttered /
shuttered /
buttered the breath\of/
her breathless/depthlessness\
deep down inside/
she’s shallow/
but a hard act to follow/
lots and lots\of/ wallow to swallow/
call me callow/
call me cad/
she called me the Cab Calloway\of/the Holloway Motel/
She was retro like that/
And\ I/ as always/was future/imperfect.

Click.

In reckless/ fecklessness/
\w/
imported impunity/
her whole damn community/
immuned\ from/immunity\
was up in arms/
and down on uppers/
was ground round/
and ready to tweak/
from that freaky sneak peek\@/ the speakeasy/beneath the peak of Pico/
to the shores of the Skeletal Keys/
in the rear of the Key Club/near Largo/
she’s a walking embargo/
Smile bitch or vomit/
You wanna be a comet/
we need the cargo/
This ain’t trigonometry
Don’t just stand there/
Feed the economy.

Click. Click. Click.

Scott Edmund Lane

All Rights Reserved

© 2009