As an outsider, looking in
You might wonder why
No glory, no golden global Oscar
Is bestowed on those
Who survive—quietly behind closed curtains
Rejected and defiled in
Swamps of Hollywood slime
Egos s**ing blood out of
Dead turnips
The two, three, four, five, six-faced
Fiends fingering foul figures of
Obscene wealth
O why not those others
Those true believers be
Applauded
Their honor and dignity yet intact
Motives still pure
Unsullied by political machination
Why not these in any walk of life?
We might well ask the question.
Where are those survivors?
Can any pa** through inner sanctums
Narrow corridors of gust and glitter
Without offering
In rites of filial obligation
Sacred sacrifice
Of heart and soul?