IconElegies

My world began to change into something that I no longer felt was my own. Life began to be a slow descent into darkness. I decided to end it while the joy was still somehow present, and I still felt the most important things. No. They weren't the comedian's tears but something else. I couldn't catch them. A poet's note. The actor Robin Williams committed suicide.

I became famous by hurting myself. My last stunt was my last, and I didn't pull it off. And it wasn't shown on TV. The Porsche stunt was a drunken thing, which I could no longer forgive. The car, the guy, and I were left on that road. Life was fun while it lasted. I didn't think  I was going to die in a nursing home, but it can hurt in heaven too. Poet's Note. Ryan Dunn was a member of the Jackass group and died in a car accident.

Just one love was enough to tear my heart from my chest. It still hung there, still hoping, if He would come back. Even a diva doesn't choose who she loves, that I knew. When He died, I died too. I just cried out without a sound. A poet's note. Aristotle Onassis was the great love of opera singer Maria Callas.

May God have mercy on my enemies, not me. I was a poet of war. War was everything. I would have liked to die in battle, as a soldier should. Instead I died in bed, paralyzed, a mockery of a soldier. Fortunately, I was buried with my soldiers. My battlefields were familiar to me, I had fought on them before, when as a Roman legionnaire, as a Napoleonic warrior. My destiny is to be reborn, as a warrior. Poet's note. Panzer General Patton believed he had already been a soldier in the Roman Empire.

My name was John Holmes. I fucked thousands of women, sometimes for money. I certainly didn't live in Wonderland. John Holmes wasn't my real name, of course. I was known for my big cock, I was the king of porn, a high school dropout, and I had the biggest dick in the business. Everything is bigger in America. I wasn't a good person, I was addicted to cocaine, violent, a criminal. I was unhappy and it destroyed me. Poet's Note. John Holmes is still one of the most famous porn actors.

My last dance was cruel. A dance with flames. I had to give up that dance too. No one is saved from the madhouse. That's where we're left. I wasn't That Girl anymore. Nothing after Goofy. We lived a life where only Goofy lived. I wish I could dance one more time. Until the end. A poet's note. Zelda Fitzgerald had to give up her own career for her husband, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I was named after an Indian rebel, but my war was not fought in the Andes but in the streets, which were my destiny. My death did not free my people from oppression, because the oppressed shot me. Why on earth? Most people don't even know who I was named after, and why they shoot each other. Poet's Note. Tupac Shakur was an American rapper, poet, and actor.

I was Bokassa I, Emperor of Central Africa, I grew up an orphan, I died poor, the father of dozens of children. I was accused of many things and I was guilty of many things. I admired Napoleon, I crowned myself emperor like him. No one came to my coronation, they were jealous, they too would have liked to be emperors. I died poor, but once I was a Emperor. The dictator of the Central African Republic, Jean-Bedel Bokassa, crowned himself emperor.

June I came to you. I couldn't bear to be without you on earth for long, it's good to be with my heavenly father. Here is already my dear brother and you. I couldn't live without you there is no life without you. I walk the line. Musician Johnny Cash died soon after the death of his wife June.

My name was JonBenet my death is still a mystery. I was only six years old, I had golden hair and the best smile in the world when they took me to heaven, I couldn't breathe. I was a little miss, Americas royal miss and my killer is still free. Why did he hurt me took me to heaven? Who killed me they keep asking over and over again. Poet's note. JonBenet Ramsey's murder was world news. The killer has still not been caught.

People don't like monsters, even though ugliness brings them joy, even my mother she abandoned  her disgusting child on the steps of Notre-Dame. The bells of God rang  so that I could no longer hear. I hoped for love in vain, because who would love a monster. And then came Esmeralda, the gypsy girl, whom everyone wanted and love awoke in the Hunchback of Notre-Dame too. The monster also had love and when they killed Esmeralda the hunchback also died of grief. The Hunchback of Notre-Dame is a fictional character created by Victor Hugo.

As my last wish, I asked my friend to destroy my writings, but he didn't follow my wish. I am more famous than ever, the idol of all strange people. And I only wrote about the world as I saw it, strange and frightening. But I wasn't alone. That was a surprise. A poet's note. Franz Kafka is one of the most famous writers.

Death was never far from me nor was pain love remained far from me abandoned me or died away happiness I could not keep why then should I not have dressed in black and sing when I could not do otherwise such was your little sparrow sweet morphine A poet's note. Edith Piaf is still a legendary singer.

I was supposed to become something, something other than the mafia. I died alone, me, Don Michael Corleone. They took my dearest, only daughter from me. I have committed many sins, killed many because I had to, my own brother, my mother's son. I guess it was right that I died alone, not even murdered, in Sicily, for which I killed. Poet's Note. Michael Corleone is a character in The Godfather series.

Grief kills joy, age kills beauty. I lost both. The anarchist's stab only made it public. I only realized I was dying when I died. I died much earlier when my beloved son decided to leave this world. He could not otherwise escape the rigid, formal court, of which my husband was the prototype. I traveled in my mourning dress aimlessly, until my journey came to an end. Empress Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary, better known as Sissi, was murdered by an anarchist.

I knew our fate would soon be at hand, it was just a question of when. We are romantic heroes now, but our lives  were nothing more than an escape. People  just hated the banks and the authorities that we disciplined. But they won't let go. That's what outlaws are. I would have liked to be buried side by side, but our families wouldn't let us. At least we died side by side. Only death separated us. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were a legendary outlaw couple.

I was called Dali at the front, but at home I was Maksym, a machine gun poet, whose life ended too early, like so many others in Ukraine. I was a poet, already on the Maidan, but I grabbed a machine gun, when it was needed. Ukraine has lost many of us artists, I became a classic after my death, just as I suspected. My book sold out. Poet's note. Maksym Kryvtsov was a poet who fell in the Ukrainian war.

My name was Bond, James Bond. They tried to kill me for many times, the dark side of the profession, but the last time they succeeded. I was an orphan boy, who saved the world more times than I can remember, but who couldn't save himself. I had many relationships, but I only loved two women, and I couldn't keep either of them. So don't judge me for a little drinking. Poet's Note. James Bond is a fictional character created by Ian Fleming.

I was a princess of sorrows and I died far from home in a hotel room that I had not left for a year. My heart remained in Persia, and found no home elsewhere. Yes, I was loved, but that did not save me from the darkness. It was not an assassin's bullet that killed me but my loss in the misty agony and pain, from which I never found a way out. I was also buried in a foreign land, and I was never allowed to see Persia again. Poet's note. Leila Pahlavi, the daughter of the Shah of Persia, died young of an overdose and was buried in Paris.

What a tragic end. Not in itself. I had fought many duels. It was logical  that the last one on Blackriver would be my fate. There was too much gossip about Natalya's relationship with the Frenchman. The Frenchman hit me hard, in the stomach, but I hit him too. Natalya hit me in the heart, I forgave her for that, but in the two days that I still lived, I managed to say goodbye to everyone. A note from the poet. Alexander Pushkin died after the duel.