Celebritydom’s Napalm
by Odin Roark

Consider the future’s past
where mediocrity bedecked in sequin and silk
once resided hidden within their bubble of out-of-control flames.

Suddenly the blaze of new champions,
the opportunistic minds scampering to upstage a colleague,
be it science, literature, medicine or politics,
becomes engulfed by celebrity napalm,
that historical celebration of scathing sears,
the winks and smiles of contempt
as they take center stage
adoring the cacophony of camera shutters,
the roiling flash of attention.

Should we pity those who strut their iconic core of misanthropy,
blinded by narcissism,
embracing solipsistic intoxication
and ignoring basic responsibility,
or should we content ourselves with disregard
as they but seed tomorrow’s constituency
of audience malaise?

Might ignoring the natural law mandating respect and good will
be to encourage the ignorant and gullible,
unknowingly fanning egoist flames with fuels of indifference?

Is it not true that we are all intrinsic components of the One?

Have we succumbed to the smoke and stench of the stygian incendiary,
that once perpetually struggling reality of nutrition and rebirth,
now but a napalm scorched landscape?

As readers, listeners and observers
of masquerading pilots of persuasion,
we continually gasp for purity of air,
clarity of reason and the simple ability
to once again trust the comfort of innocence.

Yet…

To hold to what ought to be,
we find ourselves sitting quietly
surrounded by the iconic reality of grand personage,
we think and ask: Are they really the Them,
or are we too becoming but drones in waiting,
our own pilotless slave, soundlessly drifting astray
as we reach for our share of contentment, happiness…
and celebritydom?