Last Kiss
Aafke
Posts: 1,219
Last kiss
Dead already on your doorstep
You were slipping away, out of conscious
We all came along to pay our last respects
Al your children stood by grandma,
She was on the edge of panic,
In tears of grieve, by the idea of losing you
No one came close to you, while you were dying
In that room full of people you where dying alone
I saw your needs….
A wet napkin to cool your burning head,
A gentle hand to stroke your hair
A soft voice to guild you on your way
No bandages to stop your fighting spirit
For the first time you needed me
You were dying so I let my guard down
I let my guard down….
Why did I do that?
I shout have known better
I knew what a violent drunk you were
I knew about all the damage you had done
Why on earth did I think that this was different?
Why did I still care?
You slowly regain conscious
You weren't able to speak
You couldn't write anymore
But your eyes told all about your despair, your fragility…
That look, that looks, it moved something inside me
That look was reaching out for me, just me, and no one else
In that moment I felt loved
I felt special, not just another girl that didn't count
You beckoned me to come closer
Closer and closer…
Alarm bells should have rang clearly
But they didn't…
Sirens should have gone crazy,
But they didn't…. they didn't
I came close enough for you to kiss me
I felt so proud, so released,
You finely appreciated me
For the first time… you saw me
You kissed me….
But not as a grandfather should kiss his grandchild
You graphed my head, pulling me closer…
Forcing your tong into my mouth
Grabbing my breasts
How could you, why did you…?
Did you mistake me for my grandma?
How conscious were you?
I froze,… didn't know how to react
The whole family was there,
But they didn't see, or wouldn't they?
Your daughters probably thought it was my turn
I should have been glad he didn't took me sooner
I was only sixteen….
I never felt this alone
In that moment I began questioning my own experience
Did this incident really have happen?
But it did…I know that, I felt it…
How could you? Why did I let you?
I managed to free me from your firm grip
But couldn't free myself from your despaired look
Telling me you needed me…
Or was that just what I wanted to see?
You humiliated me so deeply
Why couldn't I speak out?
Why don’t I hate you for what you did?
Why do I still grave for your approval?
Why did I still trust you to come so close to me?
Why do I still love you?
After you have molested me, with that last kiss
I know its far to long and I am still working on it, so if you have feedback, please let me know.
Dead already on your doorstep
You were slipping away, out of conscious
We all came along to pay our last respects
Al your children stood by grandma,
She was on the edge of panic,
In tears of grieve, by the idea of losing you
No one came close to you, while you were dying
In that room full of people you where dying alone
I saw your needs….
A wet napkin to cool your burning head,
A gentle hand to stroke your hair
A soft voice to guild you on your way
No bandages to stop your fighting spirit
For the first time you needed me
You were dying so I let my guard down
I let my guard down….
Why did I do that?
I shout have known better
I knew what a violent drunk you were
I knew about all the damage you had done
Why on earth did I think that this was different?
Why did I still care?
You slowly regain conscious
You weren't able to speak
You couldn't write anymore
But your eyes told all about your despair, your fragility…
That look, that looks, it moved something inside me
That look was reaching out for me, just me, and no one else
In that moment I felt loved
I felt special, not just another girl that didn't count
You beckoned me to come closer
Closer and closer…
Alarm bells should have rang clearly
But they didn't…
Sirens should have gone crazy,
But they didn't…. they didn't
I came close enough for you to kiss me
I felt so proud, so released,
You finely appreciated me
For the first time… you saw me
You kissed me….
But not as a grandfather should kiss his grandchild
You graphed my head, pulling me closer…
Forcing your tong into my mouth
Grabbing my breasts
How could you, why did you…?
Did you mistake me for my grandma?
How conscious were you?
I froze,… didn't know how to react
The whole family was there,
But they didn't see, or wouldn't they?
Your daughters probably thought it was my turn
I should have been glad he didn't took me sooner
I was only sixteen….
I never felt this alone
In that moment I began questioning my own experience
Did this incident really have happen?
But it did…I know that, I felt it…
How could you? Why did I let you?
I managed to free me from your firm grip
But couldn't free myself from your despaired look
Telling me you needed me…
Or was that just what I wanted to see?
You humiliated me so deeply
Why couldn't I speak out?
Why don’t I hate you for what you did?
Why do I still grave for your approval?
Why did I still trust you to come so close to me?
Why do I still love you?
After you have molested me, with that last kiss
I know its far to long and I am still working on it, so if you have feedback, please let me know.
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
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This is incredibly dark! :shock:
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I'm sorry you had to go through that.
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
Or was that just what I wanted to see?
Did you just want to use me…?
You humiliated me so deeply
Why couldn’t I speak out?
Why don’t I hate you for what you did?
Why do I still grave for your approval?
Why did I still trust you to come so close to me?
Why do I still love you?
After you have molested me, with that last kiss before you passed away....
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
And the power of woman to forgive, accept transgression in the name of family...is divine. I will treat my wife extra special after reading this. She too is divine, forgiving and I would hope for her kiss for my last breath. To come close. Wow, you really got me with your poem, last kiss. I liked your new ending a little better because he passed. Not to say the world is better with out him, we can all come back to love. Just that it framed an extraordinary moment with the most extraordinary moment.
I wonder since you wrote this if you have talked to his wife and daughters of that experience or theirs? If not think it through before you do or don't. What should matter first is how you feel...and that seems upset and somewhat discussed, as well as forgiving...but is it taken for granted. Wow, cant let it go. Thanks for the feelings.
I still don't know what his intentions were, but i think it doesn't matter. The poem is about what i Felt during this incident, and still feel about it. For my feelings I don't think its really important what his intentions were. I knew before this incident what a cruel man he was. He had incest with all his daughters repeatedly while they where young. And my grandma was looking the other way, couldn't stand up for her children. His motto was divide and conquer. And he did a hell off a job. In this family it was every man (or women) for themselves. All his children are scared by his treatment, and can't share their feelings no more. Survival off the fittest. This incident happened 22 years ago. Since than I tried to speak about it with my mom, but she couldn't accept what he had done, so my experience had simple not happened for her, because she couldn't burden the guild of it. I don't blame her for what had happen, because I chose to come along, and I chose to let him come this close. I kept this incident and my feeling about it buried deep inside myself, for all those years. I talked about it, yes, but couldn't feel it no longer, it was as if I talked about an experience of someone else. That's my way of surviving. But I am trough with surviving. By doing this for many years I alienated the people around me, and I see that my kids also taking over this way of dealing with their feelings. That woke me up. So that's why I decided to speak out, not to blame anyone for what had happened but to let myself feel again, to heal.
The lyrics Eddie writes are for me an example of how you can stay true to your own feelings. How you can be fragile and strong at once. Listening to PJ in my darkest hours made me feel again.again. That's why I chose this forum to express mine. It's also easier for me to share my feelings with ones who don't know me in my daily live. Otherwise reasoning my feelings away takes over.
This just has been one incident, It happened a long time ago, and my granddad is dead so he couldn't hurt me no more. In a way that makes it easy to write about it, the case is closed. There are happening and have happened many more things in my live, which make it difficult to allow myself to feel, so their will be more poems to follow. I don't know when, but we will see.
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I salute your courage, strength and vision. It takes courage to share that experience with your granddad that day. I agree with choosing this forum for that purpose on many levels. The strength of will to endure and ultimately come to terms with something so...unwelcome, is a strength to be cherished. And the vision to look beyond yourself and recognize what may be happening to loved ones is truly good.
As for the man, Ill be puttin' him away like you have. He had his time and probably deserves no more of yours or mine. I guess there is good and bad in poetry. The good, self-expression. The bad, misunderstanding. So often words fail. none the less, your poem made me think of a great many things and the thoughts' ultimately led me to a better understanding of you and me, and I believe that is a good.
As for Eddie and the rest of the band. They are the shinning example of a saying that has something to do with truth and beauty. They always tell the truth, no matter how difficult or dark...and that takes integrity. We all respect that integrity and some hold it sacred...sacred; I know I do. Never in my life have I ever seen anyone slash and burn through the crap and get to the heart of the matter...from any perspective, like Pearl Jam. Presented in ...oh how to say this...A culmination of Rock music loved, absorbed, digested, blended, and....GIVEN back with ASS KICKING ABILITY. They have my adoration...and so do you. I like your poetry. Takes me places.
Five years old I was
When you took my nephews to the store
To buy them toy pistols
I ran behind you
Convinced you left me out by accident
I was older, two whole years
So I dissevered it more
When I caught up with you
You’d already entered the store
I pleaded my case
Irritated as I were, for leaving me behind
Convinced I was, you would understand
But instead you burst out into laughter
You laughed out loud, right into my face
A girl with a toy pistol…
It was too absurd
Girls were not meant to play with pistols
In fact they weren’t supposed to play at all
They had to learn how to managed a household
But boys were a different story
They had to become man
Had to learn how to fight
So you shuffled me brutally aside
I felt ignored, jealous and humiliated
Burst out in rage, and tears
I stamped with my feet
And yelled at you
Your laughter stopped
I was embarrassing you in front of others
At once you became furious
You beat me, all around the store
When I fell you kicked me some more
Left me bleeding on the floor
Paid the storeowner and left
Leaving me behind curled up like a ball
You didn’t look back
After a while my mom came and gave me that toy pistol
But I never played with it
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
After a few months on the wall my grandma gave me the drawing back, she couldn't look at it. It reminded her to much off that last week.
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
Imprisoned in my thoughts
Walking around
Memories keep flashing up
As images
Feelings so confused
The images
So clear in my head
Walking through them
Working trough them
My images
My being
By visualizing them
I find my freedom
I find my release
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I thought to review our conversations when we first met. I'm really glad we did. I always look forward to seeing you grow stronger and feeling better about your future days...and I see you are right on schedule, your courage, self determination and personal worth grows with each word you write, each picture you create and with each and every move you make.
You know, I reserve words for fear of being critical of your feelings...I wouldn't want to harm a hair on your head my dear. As I right this Unthought Known is playing...I dedicate it to you this day. Tell me to free my mind and write what I want...I want to tell that pic of dear old grand dad what he can do with his twisted selfish manipulation of innocents.
Talon
Hi Talon,
Nice hearing from you again. I am also glad about our conversations. I am not so sure about my personal grow as you are. My life has always been a roller coaster filled with high ups and deep downs.Right now I am feeling strong, strong enough to show my fragility. But when I feel more fragile I act strong so no one can see how fragile I am. Only in my writing and drawing I show my trough feelings. But when I feel fragile I keep them to myself. In fact this is the first time that I post them anywhere (a few works I put up on my Facebook site). Up until now I allowed only a few people to see and read them, and kept them on the attic of my home, stuffed away along with old toys off my boys.
The drawings off water are my latest work, they are nice to look at, but are quite different from my normal work, with is much more in your face. Up until now I didn't post them because some people I did show them to, found them quite shocking to look at. But these works I made not for making nice pics but to to work trough my feelings. Like the one I made of my grand dad. On that age I didn't have the knowledge of how to do that without the use of a picture, but since then I have learned how to do it. Now I am on a crossroad because the water pics are more likable to look at, but they don't give me the release the darker works do give me. They are more a reflection of my state off mind, and for that they mean more to me. As I wrote in my last poem, by visualizing my feelings I find my freedom. So I will put some off the older works up on this site soon. I would like to hear your and other peoples feedback on them.
I would like you to speak freely about all off my work, my feelings are what they are, but feedback helps me to improve my writing and drawing. So don't hold back any of it, I love to hear it.
About that pic off my granddad, its my impression of him. What he did that last time I saw him was awful but I can't hate him. Maybe it was more easy if I could, but as I wrote in my poem, I still love him. He had a lot of despicable character traits, but he wasn't all bad. I strongly believe no human is just all good or bad. I think my pic of him tells you also about the love I still feel for him. As outsider it is easier to hate him, I think. But I still believe that he did love me in his own sick twisted way. He wasn't able to show this in a healthy way. I don't hate him for that, I pity him.
By the way, nice to have a song like Unthought Known dedicated to me, thanks.
Talk to you soon I hope.
Aafke
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
Now I'm not gonna sit hear and say I've always taken no for an answer(just a pry hear and there and usually the deal was sealed...consented)...but I never ever thought to rape a woman. I have a younger sister and maybe growing up in love with her had a lot to do with respecting women. But I like to believe it is more a-priori than empirical (human respect, love and decency). Men can be dogs...that is an insult to dogs...demons, low down satan sucking imps.
to be con't
12/11/13
I have been doing some soul searching on these issues and I want to be true to my values. If I were to relive that terrible day over I still would have stopped the crime but not with a crime of my own :twisted: . The right thing to do would have been call the police and have the so called justice system deal with him. there is far too much violence in the world. A product of this competitive, capitalist selfish society the so called elites of the world have fostered and nurtured into this disfigured fragmented world we live in today. :shock: :nono: ...That's another story....I just hope you can find some peace of heart and mind pertaining to your grand dad. You're right when you say he is not only defined by those acts. the man may have been the victim of abuse as a young boy/man himself and people have a way of perpetuating the things done to themselves onto others. That doesn't make it right but it is a real motivation. My dad used abuse as a form of punishment. I forgive him and I learned a valuable lesson from it. It doesn't work very well and it can destroy a persons self esteem. That is why I have never nor will I ever strike or belittle my kids or wife. They are far too precious.
You are a very strong woman Aafke. Talented too. Keep taking each day one at a time and try and find something to make you smile. We probably only do this all encompassing trip once so make yours what you want while still being considerate of others. Like you I am on this fan club as a thank-you to the guys for all they have done and as an added bonus exploring creative arts for my own betterment(really like your latest work of the old man, great use of color). I'm not going to let another day go by wasted. I to have tasted to many of those days and I'm sick of the flavor.
So let me wish you and yours' a happy new year. May your departed grand dad rest in peace.
Another song dedication for sweet Aafke....Sometimes. :thumbup:
In joyous part
TalonTedd
I'm not certain it is courage, that drives me. It's just feelings. In my point of view feelings can't be defined as good or bad. feeling are what they are. Acts are in my point of view a whole different story. I didn't like or approved the way
my grand dad acted to me or his daughters. And by the thought of anyone abusing my sons like this I also feel rage.
Maybe I am crazy for caring more for the people around me than for myself, I know I do fight harder for justice for others than I do fight for myself. I love the people around me more than I do love myself, always pleasing others instead of doing what feels good for me. Always trying to be, what I expect that others want me to be, how pathetic is that?
I do hate what my grand dad did to me, but I can't hate the man himself. For long I tried this, but it didn't work like that.I am only saying that a man is more than his few described actions alone. I have other memories off this man, witch are less violent and more caring, witch I nourish. They are not painful but pleasant, and therefor not so urgent to write poems about, also less interesting for readers to read.
I do understand that your experience has also have an influence on your interpretation of my poems and picture of my grand dad. I am sorry, this rapist crossed your path, what he did was unforgivable. I strongly believe you have acted in the right way by helping this girl. And I am glad you shared that story here with me so I have more understanding for your point off view. Thank you for that!
Greetings,
Aafke
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
Let me share what I'm seeing..
On the surface he looks mysterious and dark, trench coat wide brimmed hat, a cloak of desperate dark memories. Those pitted eyes just say no feelings remain here. His long (and beautifully colored) facial features seem envious of happiness...but that's only the surface. When I look deeper I see the face of sorted experience, accepted, leading to reclaimed direction, toward a better future. His clean sharp groomed white beard is pointing a way forward to brighter days. The great blue sky shines on the rich green tree that has blossomed from the soil of what was, composted. This man is wise. He has seen the black and white of the world and now he is looking for the living color. He is finding it. The old man's dark visions can no longer obscure the light. The way forward is bright what is behind him will be left in the dark.
Aafke What is coming next! :corn:
I think the old man deserves a song dedication...Cropduster (a favorite)
Well, Cropduster is a nice song for this old man. I believe the lyrics do connect to this painting. However the painting is older than the song, cause I painted this one back in 1995.
It is nice to hear your viewing of my work, because most of the time, I am in the room when people view my work, and I do a lot of verbal explaining. You gave your view without that, witch gives me a lot of incite in how I succeed in telling my stories in images. The nice thing about visual art is, in my opinion that every one can have his own view about what the image means. Thank you for your thoughts about my work!
More work will follow, I am just looking now for the right one. Well I have the images already in my head but I will accompany them with one or more poems, with I still have to write, so this may take a little while.
Talk to you soon I hope.
Aafke
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I'm under your thumb with anticipation and my ear is there for bending
In Joyous Part
Talon
The last hours of your life
I relive them again and again
Drowning from the inside
Struggling for each breath
When you where conscious
You tried to talk
Your voice already broken
Said what was needed
To be said
I stood aside
Fading away
Watching over you
The last hours it was just you and me
I held you close
You put your fragile arm around me
I can still hear the struggle for each breath
I can still feel your arm stroking my back…
I promised you I would stay until the end
No matter how long it would take
You asked me to sing
While you would go
To the other side
Like you did for your dad
I saw you fading away
You drifted in and out of conscious
Restless soul fighting for each scrap of live
Your breath became more and more slowly
Each grasp became more of a struggle
I held your hand
Stroke it repeatedly
When I loosened my grip
You became restless
Moaned and shook
I told you it was Ok
I was close
You needed to let go
But you couldn't nor wouldn't
There was so much left to live for
Fighting for your lost life
I stood by you
Holding your hand
Feeling the life slipping out of your reach
Watching your last moments fading away
Finely you gave in…
The breading stopped…
Dark fluid flowed out of your mouth…
I sang you the song
Convinced you where already gone
When I ended the song
You spoke with your own clear voice
“Now it is really time for me to let go…”
You went as you where...
Always wanting to have the last word…
You where my spine…
I always could rely on you
To pick up the pieces
When I screwed up again…
I still miss you every day
I still love you mom… I always will
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
But to get the movie of her passing out of my head I made two paintings
Here they come:
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I wonder if I'm learning something from you...being prepared. If so, I humbly thank you. You've gone through so much. I hope you understand my meaning. When I first met you...I thought a long time before responding. I was compelled.
I think the late lady Aafke has a beautiful smile in statue. And your paintings are deeply moving...a tragic moment that tested but was no match for your courage and love.
A song for Lady Aafke...Come Back. and one for Lady Ted...Save you
P.S. After stating what is above, I'm compelled to write. May my wife and kids live happy health lives for a hundred years :!: .....silly and superstitious but I don't even want to take the chance or tempt fait. :nono:
Nice talking to you again. Indeed it is hard for me around this time of the year. But I understand why it took you a while to respond.
I'm sorry, to hear about the struggle your mother has to go trough right now. I've witnessed this struggle twice, very close and it's a hard one. Cancer is a bitch! First my mother got the diagnosis on new years eve six years ago. By then it was already incurable, but the doctors tried to buy her more time with chemo. It didn't work and her last time on this planet she felt really miserable. She was also 65 when she past away. Had always worked hard and had just retired. Full of life and plans for what she wanted to do. It wasn't fair, but what in life is? I took care of her by myself those last six weeks, cause I don't have any siblings, so I watched the sickness progress very quickly and very close. I strongly believe that she went way to early but died at the right time.
I mean by that, that i wished she had have more time to enjoy her retirement, but that the way the sickness diminished her ability to live her life the way she wanted to, was so great that for her there was no quality of life left.
The week before she died she told me she gave up on hope for a lot of things she loved to do, like tracking trough the mountains, or horseback riding. But she wished she wound once see the sea again. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible anymore. After she was cremated I decided to scatter her ashes into the sea to bring her to the place she loved the most.
A half year after she pasted away my legal "Father" got also the diagnosis Cancer. His struggle lasted three and a half years. Bit by bit he had to give up all the things with made life meaningful for him. The last half year the only thing he could do was lay in his hospital bed. He was proud if he could walk 10 feet behind his walking frame. But his wife wasn't able to let him go. But for him there was no quality of life left.
It takes strength and courage to let loved ones go. It's not easy to do. But in my opinion quality of life is much more important then quantity. The last days of the lives of my parents I told them that they had my permission to pass away. I my experience it's really difficult to let life pass away. Not only for the close ones but especially for the person who is dying. Living is a habit with is not easy to let go. By giving someone the permission to die it makes it more easy for the person to let this habit go. At such a moment there is always grief and pain for the ones left behind. But it gave me peace to give that permission and help them pass away. In both occasions I felt deeply that their time had run out, and further delay would only lengthen their suffering. I do miss them both deeply, but I'm glad their struggle has ended.
As for the songs you dedicate to my mother, I'm not sure Come back is the right one. I'm grateful for the time we had, but I've grown a lot since she passed, and I'm quit sure I wouldn't have grown this much if she was still alive. And I surely don't miss all her critics on me. I always choose the hard way off living. Without darkness there is no light to appreciate.
I'm not sure I wish for my kids (or myself) to become hundred years old, both my grand mothers have reached that age, in good health. But they became at last very lonely because all their friends and loved ones past away earlier. Everyone wishes to become old but being old is a whole different story. I hope for my kids to live a happy meaningful life, for as long as they are given, I think.
I wish you the best in this difficult time and hope we talk again soon.
Aafke
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I think a lot of people in this club will be pleased to meet you. I understand the take you have on growing old and lonely. I only utter a spell of longevity to my beloved because I could not live with their loss...I would spoil and lash out at life, or worse, maybe give up all together. They say it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all...I would like to never have an empirical opinion of that little ditty.
On a lighter yet very serious note missy, I was perusing some other forums and posts other than our own and I noticed your tender footprint on other trails. Me thinks m'lady has been a cheatin'. Especially in the artwork forum, naughty girl. You have so many fans there. Gotta say, there was one dude with the big chin and smile...felt a little jealous. Its' almost felt like spying in a way. to read conversations of an intimate nature between your self and others. But on the whole I guess I can't keep you all to myself, that just wouldn't be right. So, spread your wings out there little butterfly. Who knows, where this adventure will lead you.
P.S. You know I'm just being silly. Its just that we started posting at the same time and I was gonna keep you all to myself
Catch ya on the flip side. :corn:
In joyous part
I'm not so sure a lot of people would be pleased to meet me. Here I'm a lot more honest then I am in my daily live, especially when it comes to expressing my true feelings. For me this is one of the first times to show other people my fragile side in writing. I did this for a long time in my visual art, but never shared it with many people. As for my writings, especially those I kept to myself. I wrote in my own language, and let just one or two people read it. They told me it was shit. Dyslectic as i am, I never dared to write in English. But hey, computers do have spelling control these days, and if I don't know a word in English I do still have a dictionary (with I use a lot these days) . In my daily life I always try to be strong and independent. Therefor a lot of people find me scary and emotionless. They have compared me with a snake, as being smart but cold (this was a long time ago but it still hurts).
I understand your take on the spell of longevity to your beloved ones. It hard to lose one you love deeply but people are most often stronger than they think they are. I do wish your loved ones all the best in the world, don't get me wrong. But I also wouldn't wish for you to sell yourself short.
About that lighter yet very serious note, quite a lot of people did see it, as i'm very pleased with, by the way. But not that many people did gave a reply yet, unfortunately... I had my hopes up for other reply's than ... Great work. However it's always nice to hear people like your work. But with substantial feedback I can improve my work. Cause I am just having a little bit of a painters block. I'm not shore how to proceed from here on. The water still working great, but it becomes kind of a manner. At this point in life I would like to express myself more kinda in your face, like with my older works, where people are living trough the emotions I dealt with. Like the one underneath.
So don't be jealous... most comments weren't intimate for me. And I do still like our conversations... I'm trying to spread my wings but its hard to fly on your own without any wind. :roll:
So you can't keep me to yourself, I'm not a prop but a living human being. But nice of you to try....
Have a happy new year, and I'll talk to you then!
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee
I have been freakin out lately. Quit smoking cigs et al for the new year. Its actually going a lot easier than I though but there have been some trying moments. I look to a friend like you for strength. A shinning example of resolve and fortitude in the midst of great adversity. I have always been able to be in control of substance abuse when it came to more serious stimulants but Cigs have always been my weakness. So I look to you for insight and strength. Thanks for sharing some of your misery and the things that give happiness as well. Your works gives me hope for us both. I posted a piece in rollings "instant thoughts" about my struggles with the withdrawals...it sucks but I'm not a poet so I feel free to try. I wished you a happy new year there as well.
In all that I say to you Aafke the words never tell the whole story, But know that I wish you nothing but the best and I respect your resolve and always take the time to consider your work.
That picture above should be titled "give me the strength". Is it a selfie? And what happened to the dancer I can't find her anywhere? Hope my little critique didn't upset you. I still think you were telling the world " look, I'm a sexy, beautiful and vibrant woman but I've been hurt so I hide just a little" with that painting. I liked it. Very feminine. I think myself a man that is in touch with his feminine side, like Eddie Vedder is. He is a guy I admire and respect a lot. I give my two young boys a good dose of what he has to say. I want them know that real men are in touch with their feelings and are not afraid to express them.
In joyous part