Live For YouBe that courageous star the drifts freely from the others.You are not alone.You are spontaneous.Do not be a mirror image of someone else.Paint your own portrait.Do not follow someone else's shadow.Create your very own light.Life for yourself...not others.Never quit a race or a puzzle.Finish it to the end.It does not matter is you win or not.The joy comes in knowing that you finished.You completed your task.Effort is so much better then rejoicing over the misfortune of others.
Spirit of a Hero that ShinesBe the Hero that Shines through the day and night.Let your Spirit roam free and peacefully.Live your life in joy and love.Never let anyone keep you down.
Nightmare Fairy Tale"Once upon a time I loved them.To this day I wonder why I ever did love them...They were not my dream or my fairy tale.Only the nightmare that tore me apart."
Write Your Own Life StoryDo not let others define who you are.Only you can define you.We are the authors of our own life.Do not let any one else write your story.
Lonely AloneI have become so used to feeling alone that it literally has resided in me.Now I know when I am alone and when I feel lonely.They are both the same to me.Because at the end of the day, they both describe me.
Keep LivingNo matter how much pain I feel or how badly I was hurt...I refuse to give up on life and to lie down and die.This life is hard but nothing is ever easy.I will stand up and fight through these challenges in life.
PrayerPlace your poemson the lips of angelsso you can teach their wingshow it feels to flyalways upward.Mark the summer eveningssoon to comewith the gracethat carried youamong us,warm and cherished softlyand know we will always placeyour wordsamong the stars.
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
The ArtistShe talked to rocks, asking them if they’d be happyTo leave their home for her newest installation pieceShe cried sometimes for no reason other thanShe felt like having a good cryHer house was covered in her students’ drawingsShe said the best art was produced from innocenceShe went mad once, and painted canvas after canvasIn furious strokes of blackThe soft blue world of youth at last faded, she grew oldPeople shook their heads when they saw herAnd whispered “poor dear” under their breathBut she was never poorHer love for everything and everyone never diedIt was swept in all directions like a summer breezeMaking people smile without knowing whyBut the river rocks know
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead. It isn’t true. It’s said the stench of hell infects the earthand healths of heated blood are downed. But Hamlet lied. The dead know nothing, the living less. There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
Photo-NegativeA weightless pause, the warmth between seconds.“You need to feel something other than me”, and the way you said it-Like the gazelle asking the lion not to chase her,and many similes much worse than that. and many smiles more cancerous than that.and everything I say you say I say- it’s all farm grade bullshit.Starting here, I begin to correct myself, control myself,before the words lose their beauty by taking on far too many meanings.I’ve cleverly described this enough times already: ants besieging a gone sparrow,the death rattle of an air-conditioner as the summer heat takes it,three boys swimming in a pond and only one survives their childhood.I’ve described this enough times to know that I’ve exhausted it of figurative substance.All that’s left is the picked clean husk of what it has always been; bitterness.Sometimes, less words are needed to define.
growththere is nothing more beautifulthan the softness of a manyou love more thanthe earth(shaking, geode),a face gentle in sleepand ardent in morning;there is nothing more beautifulthan the first breathof your spring,your blooming dawn,the incomingof nothing but you(blossoming, emerging,here,you flourish)—here,you are growingand transforminginto something new,and there is nothingmore beautifulthan that.
True Fact #113I really despise copycats. I really do. There is not a single word alone that can possibly express how much it annoys the living hell out of me. It's not cute or adorable or inspiring. It is hella annoying.