imagination

Sweet Dreams

Aside ~ ~ lifeontheskinnybranches ~ 3 Comments

Best song about imagination ever. The kid in me still longs for such a place. (The “Chocolate Room?!” Are you kidding me!!? Hello!!) Who didn’t want to be Charlie?

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory is a 1971 American musical fantasy film directed by Mel Stuart, and starring Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka. It is an adaptation of the 1964 novel Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl.

The film has its strengths and weaknesses. It manages to be wonderful, touching, fun, creepy and scary all at once.

But most importantly, it is one of many reasons I loved Gene Wilder. His brilliance, I will always believe, was way underrated. He is credited with having agreed to do the role if he could make his entrance in the film a very specific way.

He said: “‘When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the crowd carrying a cane and then walk toward the door with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet.”
Wilder continued: “As I walk towards them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself. But I keep on walking, until I realize I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.”
Why did he insist on this?
Wilder has been quoted as saying: “Because from that time on, no one will know if I’m lying or telling the truth.” 

Now that is brilliant craftsmanship.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: imagination

Flight

Aside ~ ~ lifeontheskinnybranches ~ 10 Comments

I lay on my side

Face away from the door

Stay still, slow my breath

Pray he thinks I’m asleep

Then a breeze shocks my back

The sheet lifts, the bed shifts

Hot breath at my neck

No luck tonight, fear chokes my heart

I go into a trance, nothingness

The familiar comfort of the void

Leave my body, don’t need it

My soul and I, we float into the wallpaper

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: trance

Shallow Depths

Aside ~ ~ lifeontheskinnybranches ~ 7 Comments

Deep within
There is a certain part of me
Who stills believes
Life would be so much better
If I'd been born beautiful:
A super model, a movie star

Shallow, I know,
But that part of me's convinced
Nothing sways her
She doesn't care that you
Can't cherrypick and you'd get
All their shit too (and that we all have shit)

She is absolutely sure
To be adored for your looks
Would beat the rest
That being loved for a face or body
Is more than enough for her
And she won't hear otherwise

This part of me
Would make a deal with a thousand devils
It would sell my soul
For the chance to find out
If life really is better for the super stars and models

I've given up trying
To win her over to Self-Love Land
She cannot comprehend adult logic
So I hold her hand
And I say "I hear you," then lead her into the deeper waters to play

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: shallow

Servitude Fantastic

Aside ~ ~ lifeontheskinnybranches ~ 1 Comment

Who are you really

My imaginary lover

Fantasized from romance novels

Cobbled together from Disney fairy tales, teen magazines

Then Sex and the Citified imaginings

Gorgeous, perfect, full of lust, eager to please

I see only you, seeing me

I want you so, to want me

If I’m brutally honest

There’s no point to you

Except to make my life complete

I’ve granted you no needs, no other life

Other than satisfying mine

If you really did exist

You’d essentially be my servant

I think I’ll stick with real life romance for today

 

 

Inspired by The Daily Promot: imaginary

Idol Dream

Aside ~ ~ lifeontheskinnybranches ~ 1 Comment

I was going to take over Hollywood

Like Marilyn or Rita or Kim

I’d be huge and notorious

And every person who ever hurt me

Would live to regret it

I would win hearts

Capture imaginations

My superstardom would fuck them all

Astonished, regretful

They’d come knocking at my door

Repentant, effusive, oozing adoration

And as I shut the door in their faces

I’d finger the wounds they’d made

In the solitude of my ivory tower

Alone but protected 

Empty but avenged

This was my dream at eleven

This, my prayer for living