Description: it's so hard becoming famous!!!! Today I made a list of 10 pro-active things to do to achieve fame. It's so daunting. But somehow, I'll do it. REALLY. Not crazy famous, just... I want someone to buy my graphic novel..!
I drop everything!
I'm grasping a wisp of imagination
and it slips through the creases of my hand
and hovers high above, taunting
When I think of what I need to truly Be
I imagine being marginally famous
getting paid to construct little fantasies
When I imagine the utter joy of being
my heart thumps in my cardiac cavity
and my mind whirls with dizzy joy
I plan and I plan ways to make it big
"Go to conventions and sell your art!"
"Get independent comic shops to sell it!"
"Send copies to publishers!"
And just the thought that one of those doors
may be "Door #2" and have a bright and shiny treasure waiting for me
becomes a golden thread of my existence.
"No one likes an ugly girl,
So wear nice clothes and makeup when you're selling your comic books,"
Smile pretty, drop some pounds, somehow someday
You'll charm the right person
Friends? Pah! They'll just weigh me down
Spending all my time
gambling on my wild foamy mouthed dream
I have no risks left to take on friends.
Very interesting, though it's a bit hard to catch its meaning. Are you being sarcastic? It seems so by the end, but the feeling is too vague to be certain. I like the "Door #2" remark. I'm sorry I don't have much to comment here, but I wanted to say I liked it and it was an interesting read.
The ending of the poem didn't seem like an ending. It felt like you just dropped it off, and I dont know if I would be the only one who feels like this, but truly, it doesnt feel like you ended it. I really liked it too, a lot. I started reading, and could just see everything, and was like ok, and then was litterally just left hanging. Depressing for me, really. About the part that is there, it is freakin' awesome!!! The beginning was the starter really. The beginning sharply pulled me in, but you didn't let me back out. LET ME OUT!!!!!! Walk in Love and Light, ~Azura*
Hi. The dream starts out but then the dreams intrude upon people's unthinking lack of imagination, stereotyping. Why is a female judged so severely by the way she looks? Is that the question? The poem seemed to be in two parts- the pure dream and the harsh turn it takes concerning what others might think amidst the harsh realities of society. However, persecutions are the hallmark of any great individual. As Emerson said-The world depends on unreasonable (wo)men. Please keep writing. -Jerome
I have to disagree with the last comment. I loved the ending. I thought it added a cool twist. Up til then you didn't really focus on the emotional risk taking aspects of trying to achieve fame. Making friends also involves risking deeper levels of intimacy, and it requires time and sacrifice, much like your art. I like how you implied that you have chosen art over intimacy.