Sticky Men and Flash Photography

January 17, 2008
By Jake Rich, Corona, CA

Sticky man on the ceiling, what shall we ever do?

You could be up there forever, not just a day or two.

We try our hardest, we try our best.

But the best isn’t good enough for the sticky man on top.
He knows he’s up there.

He doesn’t care who shot or threw him up there,

how he got there really doesn’t matter.

He’s on top now, and not the latter.
As long as he’s up there he rules, he’s cool, he’s been made with top sticky material and he keeps staying up there doin’

Nothin’ but…. Well nothing.

He’s adored by everyone who passes, just adored as they pass, while all the while not giving a dead rat how long it takes them to come, and how he should try to be an example to all.

Yet he is still loved by all near and far… run run run as fast as you can, you’ll never be as good as the stuck forever sticky man.

Everyone has to be him… just everyone has to be just like him.

The years take the toll on him. He’s discombobulated, whatever that means

He’s all crazy and messed up.

His good stick is still there, but his meaning is lost, no one notices him, not even the kid who cried when they first couldn’t get him down.

He’s got an unattached leg, arm, and more importantly, he brain didn’t stick either. His life is in ruins. No one cares how rich and great he is anymore he’s a bust…. Right?

He did donate to many a charities, he did happily sign autographs, he made many people happy, especially when he actually tried to act. He did do many wrong things. He went to nightclubs, stole from a couple of convenience stores. But ultimately he made those decisions, not anyone else and he knew he blew it he just decided he had to get through it. He apologized, not through that his agent mime. He said it aloud for all to hear, made sure everything was ok, with nothing to fear. No more stepping on you or you, were all here for a purpose.

He had a crazy life, but one day everything just caught up with him...

I was sitting just watching TV, when I see the king of socialites fall from his seat.

I run to pick him up, devastated by his fall, only to find… he was not the only one that made him lose his million dollar mind.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Sep. 7 2008 at 3:43 am
Hey I'm from Crown town too! :) anywhO, what an interesting poem. I don't really understand what flash photography has to do with it though. I'm guessing that the bits of his life are like the flashes of a camera like their pictures. I thought it was pretty neat though. If you ever get the chance read my poem, its called "Coming Home" by Lani W. Take care :)


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