The Brando Blue’s

You say you’re morally burnt As you Method act your way to the set 

Only to succumb to stage fright 

And realize you’ve only skimmed the script 

When the dust has settled 

Be hopeful for an Emmy nomination in your own personal satire 

Than walk the carpet 

Burgundy faded 

And the feeling of being jaded 

I get that you want out 

But this is all about intake 

An alternate ending under dust 

All profits were given to shallow lust 

And oh how I feel for you Mr.actor

You have not the slightest of idea when to break character 

Who’s part of the script 

Why the climax of it all involves the sound guy fucking the producer 

Who in turn gave the sound guy a walk on part 

In a documentary of the ocean 

You were a stand in 

Now sink or swim 

The director is becoming agitated wondering why filming is not finished 

A perfectionist

 victim of insubordination 

Contract negotiation 

The a lister wants more for his motivation, it is low but the name is established 

The director cuts the money talk 

Cuts the a list star 

“Mr actor you are called up to

Your first feature film ”

The director belches than indulges in his personal demon 

For genius and a vision that is sometimes taxed 

Call it fate or open ended suppression 

The director throws Mr Actor the script 

Entitled “just a simple love story” 

He opens to the first page 

Written in bold 

“Mr actor-I love you my dear, will you take my hand”?

Simultaneous and abrupt 

The producer calls out the lighting guy mid scene to give the 24 minute after review of his sexual performance 

The lights than go dim 

The director huffs and puffs 

And inhales one more hit 

He instructs to keep the camera rolling

But the cameraman called out 

Said there was a shortage on color film and he only shot in color

Mr actor than wondered where his costar was and directed his head to her star studded dressing room as she prepared for hours for her twenty-eight second scene 

He knocks gently 

Even with patients oh so thin 

She opens the door with grace 

 No concept of time 

Evident to be caught up with self image in hand

Delivery and feelings held in a holster 

That fell down by the wayside 

He stood and stared 

No longer caring about production 

The lighting 

The script

The direction 

The publicity 

The Emmy 

He grabbed her gently by the hips 

Fed the lines ” you’re the one I want to be with” and landed a perfectly imperfect kiss on the lips 

The actress stunned 

He walked away turned around in the doorway and modestly said “cut” 

Months later nominated for an Emmy 

Which is Overshadowed by the Nobel 

Reporters

Paparazzi 

Lurking by his door 

he opens to the Knocks to give another effort their fair share of time 

The Press 

The paparazzi than asked

“What’s your secret”?

He slightly smiles than it quickly fades and he replies 

 “I made the scene my own” 

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