it's kinda long forgive me

[hoops]

"Gifted Artist"
Gifted Artist,
the papers said.
I remeber the day
and the way
the smile
spread across my face.

Looking down
Upon the papers
and the magazines
strewn on the table in front of me.

My friends and I
had always seen
the gifted artist
hidden deep inside
this friend of ours
now open wide
for the world
to take notice of.

And we both knew
it wasn't the fame
she had sought
ot the boubles and beads
it may have brought.

people are fickle
people are strange
their desires shift and
thier moods change.
Another face
would soon create stirs
but the name
Gifted artist
would always be hers.

The notoriaty
the swarming throngs
this would all
soon be gone.
But Gifted Artist
would always be
She and I
My friend and me.
We know the heart
From where she comes
and this truth can
Never be undone
.
Now she roams the halls
all white and grey.
My friend visted her
the other day.
A psycho killer
her new good friend
and he knew not he nor her
Atill Gifted artist
can never end.

She laughs at the sneers
and the jeers
that come from some.
Don't they know
That this
is where the gift
comes from?

As her friend and mine was leaving
Gifted artist walked her
to the door.
To a place
she;d seen before.
Our Friend walked out
to this land
that holds
some kind of
forgotten liberty
As the steel bolted
air locked doors
banged, locked, closed
in front of me

[Irish Beth]

This makes my heart hurt.:(

[gisli]

The thing is when you are gifted enough to write poetry, as you are Hoops, it set´s your mind free for a moment. One has to go inside oneself and get a true understanding of the feeling one is expressing and in doing so it it both releases and sets one free........once the work is finished.

You do great work Hoops. I like it.

[hoops]

when i write my intention is to move people, still it hurts me to hurt people by what i write. i would like to say that my life does not show up in my writing, but i'd be lying and in some things more than others. this particular writing holds a lot of truth. I was, once upon a time, a gifted artist, a master as they call it in the world of martial arts. I did spend months upon months in a psych hospital with charles manson's right hand man. yes he WAS a psycho killer, but he didn't remeber himself nor me from day to day. he was actually a good guy. the biggest dofference between my real life and tthis poem is that i lost my right to be gifted and my power on the very frist of the 11 timed i was hopistalized in that 5 year stretch. i miss it. i hold all the degrees of master and none of the power after that first door slammed and locked me in. on the other side it is just words on paper, words meant to move people. i'm glad you have felt
pax
hoops