Showing posts with label Purpose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purpose. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

The Most Romantic Man Is Not Romantic at All

The title merely speaks of Atlas Shrugg's charatcer Franscico. He's the dream, but he is awefully a terrble person by default. He has been pegged as the enemy too much. He says the worst thing a man can be is to be a man without a purpose. After that, I realized I didn't know what my purpose was, just that I wanted to write and be read. Maybe that is my purpose.

Right before I read those pages of interesting dialogue on what a despicable man was, I wrote as follows:

The Missing Frame
The portrate of my life
was old the day
the paint dried.
There is no image
of a face;
there is a missing frame.

An aspect is gone,
tainted mostly from day one.
No oils or pastels
can permeate
what they did not create.
There is a missing frame.

What one thought at first glance
is changed by the intoxicate.
All love is killed,
no emotion drawn forth.
It's just a picture.
There is no missing frame.

The poem's title and chorus is based loosely on the song "The Missing Frame" by AFI. The thing about the art simply refers to a most amazing portrat I saw today that reflected me in more than one way. I wonder how conceited I had to be to think I looked like a great peice of art?

And that's all?

Perhaps I will upload an image, sometime.