Keep Art Alive :: Art by Milt Kobayashi
it rains fish from the sky,
and the statues all start to cry,
and someone writes another beautiful song.”
Every word I read about me, even the ones I know I am not meant to see, especially those perhaps, make me feel as if an artist has painted over me with broad strokes of water colored faded hues, turning the thought of me, his impression of me, into an unrecognizable blur.
I melt into the refrains, the calculated turns of phrase, and as a fellow artist I admire the technique, the cadence, the near lyrical sound that the string of words make, but when I look closer, when I examine the insides of it, I see a stranger.
Sometimes she’s beautiful, lusty and seductive, full of mystery and promise and a back bent back and mouth wide open release.
Other times, well, she is compromise, she is ugliness, heartless actions and reactions, and disappointment; the girl most likely to fail with you, the woman most likely to break your heart.
Is that me? Is that the me he remembers?
Am I both the femme fatale and the weapon yielding killer in the shadows? Am I both heroine and villain? The belle and the beast? Is it all okay if it is for a beautiful song?
In the blur I see a muse, but I also see a monster. Deeper still, though, I see so much loneliness. Funny, isn’t it? To be able to inspire, to not be forgotten, yet to feel so very alone.