Lexigrams of the Moment

To be the best at his art, he tries more.

His mother has him be the best.

He bothers to be the best at his art.

He is a master at this.

He stars at, shares this art.

He hits their hearts.

Some see this art as trash, as shit.

His shame is that he hates to start!

He has hits. The earth hears him.

See him?

He is a smart mess as he breathes this art.

He has to be the best.

This beast hates most, rants at those that bother him.

He stares at stars, has beer at bars, storms at bores.

FREAK OUT!

Feature this soul star in arenas on earth in front of tons of fans.

FO SHO! FOR SURE!

This fashionista has a store-house full of soft furs, feathers, as she sees this as fun for all to see her in.

As she is seen in arenas, she has to shine.

She is on FIRE! She is HOT!

She has to filter out all the noise! Her full house of fans in all the arenas on earth riot, shout out to her!

All like to see her fashion, hear her fresh soul art hits.

She is the first star of her ilk - she has soul hits - her forte.

She has to hit all the fast notes, the full notes, the far notes.

In her art, she is a rare star - a RARE USA TREASURE.

After she trains, the result is strains herself.

She has a hostile father. She is also hostile.

Hit on her - AROUSE A LION IN A FOREST.

HEAR HER ROAR!

Strife is in her house, a rift. She is hostile to another, to others.

She feels she is a lost soul.

She is not. She is a treasure house of the soul art in the USA.

A star has it in her to fail, to lose all as she strain.

She has no one else. She is alone.

This is her last tour. This is her last hour.

She has a rehearsal at ten, then she’ll rest.

She hates those - tie her in a knot, tell her ‘Rest!’ ‘Like this!’ ‘Here!’ ‘There!’

LET ARETHA ALONE!

She has to take a rest!

She feels faint!

The health of her heart is at stake as she likes to eat steak or surf-n-turf or a roast or FRIES!

She has to lose her fat! She is so soft, so full of fat!

She is a hunter, a fisher of those in faith.

In her art she has in her the fuel, the fuse of a star that shine on this earth.

Tho she has no relief of strife, still, she hasn’t lost her faith.

She sure is the first star of soul, a real USA treasure.

She has to lose her fat or at this hour she’ll lose her life! Her heart is full of fat!

In a funk.

She rents her house out to others. These others use her - a ruse - these others fail to ensure she earns on this lease. This other is a real louse.

A PRIVATE ARTIST STRIVE.

AS A SPRITE, RAVES.

APT.

A spirit tries, a spirit tires.

A STAR CAPTIVATES.

A spat.

A pa craves raves - a pare[n]t spit at a spirit, a pest.

A trap - A CAPTIVE SPIRIT.

A spirit tries space.

A pa - Iciest. Racist. A pest. Trivia. Tripe. Prate.

A rapist? A rape? Cries? Tears?

A pa stare at, scare a spirit, a star.

Save a spirit!

A cat sits, stares.

Carpets are rare.

A spirit - a trap.

A river rat, a viper, asp, a trap.

A vice, a price.

Crap.

Visit a rat-trap - a pa spit at a private artist as a private artist practi[c]e at a carpet as a cat stare.

A private artist, a captive spirit, a star captivates, a spirit at rest.

Upon the death in New Jersey, in February, 2010, of this very private woman who had only been known as a home-owner landlord who had only ever looked after her parents, news emerged that as a child, she had been a highly praised prodigy violinist.

GET REAL??

I am so far from real it isn’t safe for most to get near me.

I AM STRANGE!

Listen to me!

Life is a great gift …

I grant gifts to fans as I entertain on stage.

I am a great talent.

I imagine.

I sing.

I am a singing star on stage.

I manage a team of stage managers.

To remain a great star, to remain FIRST, I gotta let go.

I am free of fears, I am not little girl.

I got a lot of TALENTS.

I IMAGINE, I MANAGE, I SING, I ENTERTAIN.

If I fail, see me in anger, in a rage.

I am a foremost, greatest singer on stage.

To entertain, I seem strange.

At times, I wing it.

As I am getting fatter, I groan.

It’s a real feat to fit fat feet into stiff forms.

I got a nose ring, so?

If a man in fangs strangle me on stage, it’s not real - it’s just as I imagine it.

Got it?

I’m as real as most; I fart too.

Posted at the request of Josh from Indiana, USA.

A fantastic tale, a fine fable.

A street cretin talent is able - earns an eternal star as a real class act.

Fans are eternal as a star’s talent, craft is rare.

Frank is first, best at a craft.

Frank’s beat sense is rare.

Albeit, Frank is a wanker - a bit.

Frank’s sin, stain is - Frank can’t resist a fair face, nice tits, ass.

Frank sees a fair face as a fast snack.

At least a freak is frank in talks.

Frank’s face is basic.

Frank can be dark, scary.

Frank can sneak like a snake, be a rank caliber brat.

Frank acts as if a fart can’t stink!

Frank steals fair faces, not care, not blink, not fret.

Stars fear Frank, Frank fears a rat’s nest.

Frank fears far battles.

Blasts scare Frank.

As it is, Frank’s life is like a fantastic fable.

Take a street brat, test a talent, let a star rise, earn/bank fat salaries, attain eternal fans.

In a fine life, a talent basks in ease.

FACTS.

PRACTICE! PRACTICE! PRACTICE!

No one on entire planet can pick it, rock it like Eric Clapton.

Can tackle, can tickle.

A planet talent on a torn carpet.

A partner, participate.

On air, in print.

Practice an antic, a prank.

Clap, clap, clap.

Panic! Alert on an airplane.

Ice on a plane can trap.

Reaction - PANIC - A TRAP.

Take a train.

Rotten tripe?

No.

COCAINE.

FIERY HOT!

ORNATE.

RIFE - FEAR OF A BOY.

Earth honor her for her air, her bent, her heat.

BORN TO BE, YEAR AFTER YEAR - IN FRONT, AT FORE OF HER ART.

Tony, brainy, fair.

A trainer train her tone.

Tho I try not to hate any one, I harbor a fear of one horny boy.

One boy hornier than I! A BRAT!

One boy bother her, bore her, bone her, hit her, bit her, tore at her.

In brief, a bent boy hit her.

After her fit, her rant, he hit her.

Oh FART!

EARTH in on it!

After he hit her, rather than hate a boy, Rihanna harbor faith in a boy.

He not, not anyone rob her of her faith.

I bet on a boy to try.

Oh bother, Oh brother …

I eat a banana.

To be or not to be near a boy …

Kurt Cobain in a dark, dank lair. No air.

Black rain.

Dark luck.

Cold and curt, I rub it in and I look at it.

On a track, I blurt it out! I turn it out!

DIRT, RANK.

BOLD. I BURN. I BARK!

I turn it on! I ruin it!

A cool burn-out.

Rank. Loud. Cold.

I run to a dark cold lair and I RAIL!

A runt can drink and ail.

I turn into a no-brain drunk.

ACTION!

An actor told Kurt: Don’t drink!

I drink, and I drink, and I drink.

I can’t act, but I can turn out a bold act.

I can turn it on!

I can crank it and I can bank it.

I took it, I drank it, and I laid out cold.

A BAD brat. A dolt.

Bank on a rank turd and no-brain dick on brink to ruin luck - on a lark!

DRUNK!

I told Kurt to cut it out, but Kurt took it!

I CAN’T TALK TO KURT!

And look! Look at BLOOD!

Kurt Cobain band brand not in a rut - doin’ ok …

A nifty story.

A fairy flits softly, an artist - ‘oft flat - trains to wail.

First or last, slow or fast, lost or won.

A fairy softly sways, flits and floats to stars far away.

As a tiny tot, Taylor was a fair, faint star.

Taylor was swift - a fast start - not a fool.

As a lass, Taylor was first to solo - in a way.

Fat or Fit?

Tiny tasty soft raisins on toast.

Flaw? Sin? Stain?

Snotty, snooty, soon nasty Taylor ALWAYS wants to win in worst way.

I WANT TO WIN! I WANT TO WIN NOW!!

WAIT? STALL? SLOWLY? NO!!

SOON, SWIFTLY, FAST, FIRST, NOW!!

Will Taylor fall flat, fail or win?

Taylor lost or won?

For now or always.

Taylor is, will ALWAYS win, stay FIRST on any list, as Taylor is a star.

Still, Taylor is saintly - not a saint.

Wait for a star’s fatality now, as Taylor swallows a lil’ fast foot.

Again? Damn!

Ages ago, a major singer slides under.

Mr. Mojo Risin’ dies alone in drug use.

Real or a dream?

Jim is missed!

Jim’s ideas are so good, his songs so damn original, his songs remain on air!

As Jim dies a drug user, some used derision in sharing Jim’s saga.

Mean goons judge, smear a man as a glamorous rogue.

Damn juries!

Sure, drugs - no good!

Drugs ruin a man’s mind, sure!

As Jim dies, Jim’s drug use is less an issue, man.

Jim rules as an idol - a god!

In songs, Jim’s rare soul goes on!

Jim adores one girl, remains more or less married.

Around one girl Jim smiles, is glad.

Jim, a mad man lured on drugs, used ladies.

Jim’s girl said Jim is mean - in anger, rages, ire - near sadism.

Jim argues, slams doors, mangles souls.

Dour and glum, in dim moods, in end, Jim manages … sad.

In end, Jim’s girl is near Jim’s side, as glue.

Some said a girl led Jim’s drug use again as Jim dies.

Some said a girl’s designs on Jim led Jim’s morose end.

Does a girl urge Jim’s drug use leading - Jim’s end?

Go on …

In end, Jim’s a man - a loner, a goner - goes on in song.