Misunderstood is very accurate. It's funny how people are like that. We work our butts off for something that's undefinable and then in the end we don't even know if we like it, what we set out to do.
wow Soldier Girl, powerful stuff. Thanks for sharing these... their depth and darkness speaks to me. The second one especially appeals to me, the image of the hinges creaking when opening the door to the soul kind of resonates with me and that feeling of almost having no control about exposing your soul and the pain involved in the creative process and how it is like vomiting your emotions...I'm feeling very profoundly moved here.. wow and thanks again *_*
-- Edited by lula at 10:32, 2008-03-03
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the shadow is the greatest teacher for showing us how to come to the light ram dass
With all the crap in the papers about Nic lately, I thought I would post this poem I wrote some time ago with him in mind.
*Misunderstood*
I sit here waiting for all the drama to end Everyone wants my picture, They all try to creep inside of my head
They do not know me, they don't even care All they can grasp is that I am a cash cow in the here and now
*Misunderstood*
Why must I, or rather why have I chosen to run this gamut Fame and fortune maybe seems enough.. but it is not all it's cracked up to be
The more fame I receive, the fainter my heartbeat, The colder I become........ And now my answers consistent of words like....yeah
Misunderstood*
Can't they see, I am but a human being... not some damned media toy Sighing, I realize this monster that is me was created by me.. and oh.. what horrible self realization that was, To finally figure out it was I all along
*Misunderstood*
Who am I now with all the attention and the cash, Where lies the soul of who I used to be... Maybe I have lost it, or maybe its cooling on ice with the champagne in the VIP lounge
*MISUNDERSTOOD*
And here is another I wrote, not with Nicolas in mind though...
The Purging of Angst
Entertaining my emotions I open the door to my soul Wincing as the hinges creak Tonight is to be one of those nights the kind that renders it impossible to find peace... Unless, unless I do what is being demanded of me Tonight I must purge the angst
feeling the nausea start to come over me at the prospect of knowing what I must do, I sit forward with pencil in hand heart on the floor The tortured scribe with a past is my character now, so sit back all ye readers For my play is about to unfold
keep your playbill ticket stub for a keepsake, for this is a rare showing this play
First scene: The purging of Angst
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"My heart beat thrice, twice, once...and then no more the moment a passing comet bespoke of your fall from grace".
