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A Fake Hollywood (Free verse) by Blindpoetry Space is the final piece of land
We need more Hollywood Nation
Stopped by a dirtry hand
Forget about the sea and work on our plantation
Dodge this, there is to much work
We'll drive slaves station to station
Broken tears land on many heads
Where are our Hollywood Fantasies?
Trains may crash and land on beds
But passengers still dream of Fake Tragedies
Why is everyone transferring to this cult?
We're ditching all of the endless possibilities
Up the ladder:
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
Down the ladder:
discovery
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 4.8
Posted: January 9, 2005 9:46 AM PST; Last modified: January 9, 2005 9:46 AM PSTWeighted score: 4.9761596 Overall Rank: 8356 Comments:
They named Hollywood after what they thought was holly. It was not holly, but a look-alike, the toyan bush, which also has red berries at Christmas time. Hollywood's been a fake ever since. And use spellcheck!
toyanwood...
yikes.
Your irritating rhyme scheme makes this nearly unreadable.
I might have given your comment a thought two years ago.
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More than it is for Hollywood. It's about kids who think their life is crap.
Fake Tragedies... tears on heads, sweating for ideas, on many heads. cult of fake shit. endless possibilities limited by wanting something less.
blurp.