I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your tender petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?
For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father.
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.
From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.
As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.
Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community,
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must,
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.
A seed sprouted at the foot of the Cross, and was
watered by the Blood of Jesus.
Thorns had fallen from the brow of Christ and attached
themselves to the branches.
The petals opened to look upon the Son of Grace.
A red rose the color of His blood stained face.
The thorns had sharpened to a point to prick the feet
of Jesus, but, didn't prevail. Jesus had the nail.
A rose was born near a thorn, just like you and me.
Both will live eternally.
The rose will always bloom,
the thorn forever doomed.
The rose is a flower that one associates with love.
The beautiful delicate petals wrap around each
other as if to protect themselves from the thorns on
the branches.The rose have a meaning of their own.
On special occasions, to say," I love you so much,"
you will see the rose. They are the finishing touch.
Each petal sends out a fragrance that draws you near.
Thorns are just the opposite.
Flesh that gets in a thorn's path, feels thorn's wrath.
The rose, the thorn, so close, yet the petal is
protected, like our soul, a boundary has been set
from the one who paid our debt.
In the spiritual realm there is also the Rose and the thorn.
The Rose of Sharon, Jesus Christ, the living God, who
speaks, "I love you," to all the world.
The thorn, the destroyer, has hatred unfurled.
The Rose will always be the universal flower of love.
Jesus Christ is Love, sent from above.
In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams
Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay
The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire
She presses her finger on the thorn
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede
Roses are red
violets are blue
Jesus is in heaven
is he waiting for you!
The Rose of the World went weeping
And many the tears the Rose shed;
They flowed like a river softly
On a world that was dry and dead.
The Rose of the World was heartsick;
The heart of the Rose broke and bled,
The mad world plaited a thorn crown
To cruelly pierce His fair head.
They crushed the Rose in its beauty,
And they nailed the Rose to a tree;
The Rose with His tears and His lifeblood
Emptied out His fragrance on me.