Post by anirbas on May 10, 2008 18:16:08 GMT -6
Hail and welcome to the Roosevelt Hotel.
Please, don't mistake it, for the Hotel California,
unless that song, was inspired by this establishment.
Built in the money's no object,
high style of the Roaring Twenties;
columned and arched with lusciously,
sleek art deco, architectural accoutrements;
complete, redolently replete with a fountained lobby,
to greet guest of the frolicsome,
light days and nights,
before the dawn of the Depression era...
An olympic sized swimming pool,
the jewel of the rising, four rectangular walls,
built around it; walls where hotel guests and dwellers,
were housed, on a nightly, weekly, or monthly
basis, depending on one's needs...And the era...
Once the party spot of the pompous and equally posh,
old money stock and their tail climbing retinue,
the nouveau riche, of the Roaring Twenties Era.
Later, the best place in town, for up and coming,
stars and starlets of the fifties and the sixties,
to rent a place, cheap but still a swell place
to party, til the pre-imminent discoveries
of their rightful stardom...
The Roosevelt Hotel...
Purported to still house,
some of Hollywood's finest,
up and coming talent, of the fifties
and sixties, if only in spirit,
in this now...
Hello...Hello...Marilyn Monroe?
Is your spirit still strutting here,
in a tight dress and spiked,
high heels? Hotel staff
and guests alike,
swear to seeing,
your sad, doe eyed
reflection, in the background,
of a mirror, that once hung,
in the room you rented here,
back in the halcyon days of your youth,
just before you made it to the "bigtime".
Hello...Hello...Marilyn Monroe...
Are you here? Gathered at more than one,
in hotel seance, are your self professed friends,
paramours and fans galore, still attesting,
all these years after your passing,
they'd love to see even the faintest
shimmer of your othernworld shade...
Hello...Hello...Calling on Marilyn Monroe...
Perhaps, if they called you by your given name...
Norma Jean, you'd show up, to grace the scene...
But, still paying hotel guests and staff, alike...
Insists, swear, some even on a stack of bibles,
as they do so...They've seen you...
Mostly in that mirror...Felt a deep abiding sadness,
when sleeping in, or cleaning, your past abode,
both bower and boudoir, for you...
Those who've been employed for years,
at the Roosevelt Hotel, attest paranormal
activity escalated, after a high dollar
renovation, in the 1984...
Mirrors and crystals,
are purported, by those
whom claim to be in the know,
to absorb emotional energy...
Is your sadness harbored there, Marilyn Monroe?
In that mirror that once hung in your room,
at the Roosevelt Hotel, that now hangs,
in a hallway, where all may glance themselves,
and possibly you, in the background of it's
reflection, as they walk by...
Ah, but bittersweet Marilyn,
is but one of many guests,
who've purportedly,
stayed on spiritually,
at the Roosevelt Hotel...
anirbas
5/16/2006 1:43 AM 2 out of 7
There's the ghosts, oft seen swimming,
in the glimmering oylmpic sized,
softly lapping pool of azurine
water in the early dawn
and dusk hours...
Then there's the high king,
of pranks himself, the literal Lord Loki
of a ghost, of the Roosevelt Hotel...
Once the close friend, of Marilyn Monroe
and Elizabeth Taylor, respectively...
Montgomery Clift's ghost, purportedly,
is said to be a bit less friendly,
than Norma Jean's wafting shimmer
of a little girl lost shade...
Some maids attest and swear,
to being brushed up against,
by him, time and again...
Montgomery, shame on you!
Coping a playful feel
from the othernside.
Other maids, report
being overcome by
intense feelings
of anxiety,
upon entering
the room...
And if they manage,
to finish cleaning old
Monty's room, the first time-
they swear, they will quit,
before they clean it, again...
Oh, yes...Montgomery Clift,
is quite the inhouse, prankster
at the Roosevelt Hotel...
Supposedly, free ranges as he leaves
his own room and floats the halls,
sits on beds, or settles back in chairs,
with the glassine stare of the alcoholic he was...
Then there's the cold spot in the middle
of the present gymnasium...Said to raise
the hackles on one's neck, as well
the needles of paranormal equipage.
And the occasional sighting of a man
dressed in a tuxedo, Twenties cut and styled,
when the gym was a ballroom, known simply,
as the Blossom Room...
He purportedly, loiters off to the side,
gazing into the inner reaches, the middle
of the room...As though, something
he saw there once, so moved him,
he stayed...One wonders,
what he sees, no one else sees...
A once virginal debutante,
now freely shorn of her long locks
and her virtue, doing it up flapperstyle,
to the raucous strains of the Charleston?
Hail and welcome to the Roosevelt Hotel.
Please, don't mistake it, for the Hotel California,
unless that song, was inspired by this one...
The baggage boy will take your luggage...
Thrills and chills are on the house...
~Sabrina.
Please, don't mistake it, for the Hotel California,
unless that song, was inspired by this establishment.
Built in the money's no object,
high style of the Roaring Twenties;
columned and arched with lusciously,
sleek art deco, architectural accoutrements;
complete, redolently replete with a fountained lobby,
to greet guest of the frolicsome,
light days and nights,
before the dawn of the Depression era...
An olympic sized swimming pool,
the jewel of the rising, four rectangular walls,
built around it; walls where hotel guests and dwellers,
were housed, on a nightly, weekly, or monthly
basis, depending on one's needs...And the era...
Once the party spot of the pompous and equally posh,
old money stock and their tail climbing retinue,
the nouveau riche, of the Roaring Twenties Era.
Later, the best place in town, for up and coming,
stars and starlets of the fifties and the sixties,
to rent a place, cheap but still a swell place
to party, til the pre-imminent discoveries
of their rightful stardom...
The Roosevelt Hotel...
Purported to still house,
some of Hollywood's finest,
up and coming talent, of the fifties
and sixties, if only in spirit,
in this now...
Hello...Hello...Marilyn Monroe?
Is your spirit still strutting here,
in a tight dress and spiked,
high heels? Hotel staff
and guests alike,
swear to seeing,
your sad, doe eyed
reflection, in the background,
of a mirror, that once hung,
in the room you rented here,
back in the halcyon days of your youth,
just before you made it to the "bigtime".
Hello...Hello...Marilyn Monroe...
Are you here? Gathered at more than one,
in hotel seance, are your self professed friends,
paramours and fans galore, still attesting,
all these years after your passing,
they'd love to see even the faintest
shimmer of your othernworld shade...
Hello...Hello...Calling on Marilyn Monroe...
Perhaps, if they called you by your given name...
Norma Jean, you'd show up, to grace the scene...
But, still paying hotel guests and staff, alike...
Insists, swear, some even on a stack of bibles,
as they do so...They've seen you...
Mostly in that mirror...Felt a deep abiding sadness,
when sleeping in, or cleaning, your past abode,
both bower and boudoir, for you...
Those who've been employed for years,
at the Roosevelt Hotel, attest paranormal
activity escalated, after a high dollar
renovation, in the 1984...
Mirrors and crystals,
are purported, by those
whom claim to be in the know,
to absorb emotional energy...
Is your sadness harbored there, Marilyn Monroe?
In that mirror that once hung in your room,
at the Roosevelt Hotel, that now hangs,
in a hallway, where all may glance themselves,
and possibly you, in the background of it's
reflection, as they walk by...
Ah, but bittersweet Marilyn,
is but one of many guests,
who've purportedly,
stayed on spiritually,
at the Roosevelt Hotel...
anirbas
5/16/2006 1:43 AM 2 out of 7
There's the ghosts, oft seen swimming,
in the glimmering oylmpic sized,
softly lapping pool of azurine
water in the early dawn
and dusk hours...
Then there's the high king,
of pranks himself, the literal Lord Loki
of a ghost, of the Roosevelt Hotel...
Once the close friend, of Marilyn Monroe
and Elizabeth Taylor, respectively...
Montgomery Clift's ghost, purportedly,
is said to be a bit less friendly,
than Norma Jean's wafting shimmer
of a little girl lost shade...
Some maids attest and swear,
to being brushed up against,
by him, time and again...
Montgomery, shame on you!
Coping a playful feel
from the othernside.
Other maids, report
being overcome by
intense feelings
of anxiety,
upon entering
the room...
And if they manage,
to finish cleaning old
Monty's room, the first time-
they swear, they will quit,
before they clean it, again...
Oh, yes...Montgomery Clift,
is quite the inhouse, prankster
at the Roosevelt Hotel...
Supposedly, free ranges as he leaves
his own room and floats the halls,
sits on beds, or settles back in chairs,
with the glassine stare of the alcoholic he was...
Then there's the cold spot in the middle
of the present gymnasium...Said to raise
the hackles on one's neck, as well
the needles of paranormal equipage.
And the occasional sighting of a man
dressed in a tuxedo, Twenties cut and styled,
when the gym was a ballroom, known simply,
as the Blossom Room...
He purportedly, loiters off to the side,
gazing into the inner reaches, the middle
of the room...As though, something
he saw there once, so moved him,
he stayed...One wonders,
what he sees, no one else sees...
A once virginal debutante,
now freely shorn of her long locks
and her virtue, doing it up flapperstyle,
to the raucous strains of the Charleston?
Hail and welcome to the Roosevelt Hotel.
Please, don't mistake it, for the Hotel California,
unless that song, was inspired by this one...
The baggage boy will take your luggage...
Thrills and chills are on the house...
~Sabrina.
