Anonymity’s Red Carpet
by Odin Roark

Plush the red
Expansive the coverage
Bombastic the stage
Every loser’s dream

The why of lights
Camera
Action
Masses
Begs kneeling
Before the collapse…
Of the mass convergence
On any and all stages
Where fame and fortune’s delusion
Plays out

Why the red?
Why the carpet?
Why the lights?
Why the cameras?
Why the spectators?

“Johnny, you’re special”
“Good job, Johnny”
“Way to go, Johnny”

Until

Wake up call
You’re not special
You’re just different
Your bubble bursts
You turn to…
To…
Anything…
‘cause your mommy told you
“You’re special, Johnny”
And you claw your way
To the crimson padding
For your missing something

How dense this malady of identification
This malaise of dysfunction
Perpetrated by us as
Biological parents
Scholastic parents
Business parents
Know-it-all political parents

Fostered by the media
Perpetuated by the leaches of awesome variety
The “so-called” grownups
Of the parasitic world
Continue to flourish
Like their ancestral history
Cockroachdom

However

In the shadows
Stands calm
The minds understanding
Those of reality bathed
Cleansed of conscious debris
Remnant baggage disintegrating
Knowing they are/were never special
Save the gratuitous claims of others
Just distinct

How rewarding
This silent walk
Toward nowhere
And everywhere

Gifted with sober ethics
A modicum of intelligence
And desire to never be lured
Into a red carpet moment of seduction

One becomes a thinker
Anonymous to most
As identity of thought
Should be
Especially as one looks upon
Anonymity’s red carpet