She never looks both ways
When she crosses the street
She’s much too beautiful
And never has to wait for help
When she walks into a store
She’s much too beautiful
She never worries about dates
There is always someone beside her
Because she’s much too beautiful
But when she is alone
By herself
She wonders about love
True love
And if anyone can see
Beneath the surface
Beyond the beauty
Sometimes wanting
All that beauty
To go far, far away
The feigned glories of war
With the fluttering flag
And the romanticized figures and bloodied bodies
Put a beautiful and patriotic image in your mind.
But the horrors of war are not beautified
With sugary words and hope.
No. The sight of it, feel of it
Can leave you trembling and wishing no more.
Once the ideas of a beautiful war diminished
Into the deepest, darkest depths of our minds,
We saw the terrible cause of discord.
Would war ever end?
Though we have attempted peace since WW1
We have fallen short and ended up
With more soldiers and more fatalities.
War is the violent compromising of two conflicting territories.
A way of foreign policy that causes mishap
And reluctance.
It causes weariness in civilians—
But will it ever cease to exist?
Is there no other way?
Oriental head dresses glisten in mid-morning sunlight
small waists fitted into tight girdles and large crinolines
move gracefully over chipped cobblestone
Men tip their top hats and wink at beautiful young women twirling decorative
umbrellas over well kept hair.
Church bells echo through streets of young children playing tag.
Men escort their wives over rain puddles collected at the gutters.
Old women browse shop windows smiling only when a bakery beckons them with
sweet smells of sugar and flour.
The town sways with love and greatness.
A small stage looms in the town center calling those seeking entertainment.
'Only two cents' for a ballet preview or 'three cents' for an opera opening.
At night couples, young and old descend decadent staircases at the ball, flaunting
beautiful dresses.
Singles curtsy before slipping into a slow waltz.
Weary mothers keep a close eye near by.
A beautifully painted sky provides moon light for long walks and sweet talks while
sleeping children lie safely under tucked in blankets at home.
Oh, such a beautiful scene.
Oh! My beautiful baby!
How long I've waited to see your face
To look into your eyes and remember
How we came to this time and place
The joy of inhaling your infant scent
Oh! My beautiful baby!
Can there be a more blessed event?
Oh! My barefoot boy!
Watching your days unfold
Forever summer in your eyes
Learning from each story told
The adventure of each day
Oh! My barefoot boy!
Are there days of more wondrous play?
Oh! My in-between boy!
Struggling between man and boy
Trying to find out who you are
I daily watch your growth with joy
Experiencing your very first kiss
Oh! My in-between boy!
Is there a way these days i would miss?
Oh! My mature man!
Now taking your rightful place
As husband and father you grow
Meeting the trials you face
Watch your own babes learn to fly
Oh! My mature man!
Should I watch with a tear and a sigh?
Oh! My venerable man!
Wise now with the turning of time
Observing this new world as it is
Remember mountains you've climbed
Content to watch them learn
Oh! My venerable man!
Do you know that now is their turn?
For the Beseech contest...
Hopefully you see me
Im here deceiving
If there is no turning back
As i become one
And all power evolves
Im here to destroy you
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is the rising sun
I know you hear me
And is gone to the grave
Make it rain trough the nights passing by
Alone and accompanied
They walk among us
much disguised
No one can see them
But everyone see me
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is a rising sun
Alone in the dark
With my devils besides me
The code is drowned
My useless hands
Enough to let me fall
In love with my future death
They are counted and overlooking at me
I know they are here
But i cannot understand
Hurry up and blow my head
Were is the air
Im sure alone
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is a rising sun
Beautifully deceived
Much to reject
I know is cold and lonely
But better off alone than with the devil
Bring us the 65 needles.
Fields upon fields,
of flowers that fly,
in such a beautiful prose,
only for the eyes,
of my beautiful lullaby.
Respired innocence,
sent to perform,
and break the chain,
that causes one to mourn.
And no matter what I cant sup,
I know deep down in my gut,
that things in life,
will no longer be bare,
cause I have the fields,
the beautiful fields that weal's,
flowers that care.
Evoke
One word
A millions thoughts
Evoke
Agony
What shoots through your head
What cripples you to the floor
What clutches your soul
What tears at your core
Evoke
Beauty
What catches your breath
What holds you frozen in place
What makes you long
What etches your face
Evoke
Beautiful Agony
Can you see it in
A tear of pain
As it drips down your face
Like midnight rain
Can you see it in
eyes longing for love
Looking for mercy
Searching above
Can you see it in
shoulders that shake
As you quietly sob
While your heart gently breaks
Is there Beautiful Agony
In the music you play
As you pour out your heart
At the break of day
Is there Beautiful Agony
In hands that slip
As you lose your soul
As you lose your grip
Does it dwell in the darkness
Or does it dwell in the light
Or does it dwell between both
Just out of sight
If I were stronger I could be a lot of things
I could forget my past
I could stand up for myself
I could sing louder and laugh more
I could show my true self
If I were wiser I could do a lot of things
I could think smart things
I could contribute to a conversation
I could be scientific
I could give good advice
If I were beautiful I could do a lot of things
I could tease with my beauty
I could break hearts
I could love without worry
I could get what I wanted
But I'm just me and
I'm not strong because I couldn't forget you
I'm not wise because I let myself need you
I'm not beautiful because I didn't get what I wanted
Tomorrow ain't here yet,
Its still hours away
And when it comes,
I hold onto it
Only to realize it's an illusion.
In my grasp
Is today, and today
Is not enough,
Is not what I expected.
Once again, I hedge my bets
On tomorrow.
Then a million tomorrows
Pass me by,
Or so it appears
When I look back.
Looking back at the wasted
Yesterdays, I put back on
My rose coloured shades
And look towards tomorrow.
I, eventually, regretted my yesterdays
And dreamt of tomorrows,
Then one day, I looked
At the today that stood
Before me, recognizing it what it is.
Today was the clay,
I could still mold
Into the tomorrow I yearned for.
Today was the marble
Ready and waiting for my chisel.
The blank canvas
Prepared for my paint.
The blank page
At the ready for my words.
Slowly, with much resistance,
I put aside my rose coloured shades,
I pulled up my sleeves
And dealt with today.
I used the tools and lessons
Of yesterday and my desires
And wants for tomorrow,
And I made today
The foundation for a beautiful
Tomorrow.
The beautiful tomorrows
That became beautiful todays.
I've seen people who only complain about life
I've seen people who only smile to this beautiful life
I'm the type of person who is living to be smiley
Giving my all, my laughers and my smiles to stay happy
I don't stress myself, I don't regret, I don't get mad
They say I'm weird, i'm never angry, I'm never sad
But some times I wonder why some people kill other people, why do they steal
Why do they kill themselves , why they don't want to be real
Why there are wars in this world, why children die
What can we do to make this stop, how can stop the big lie
Nobody want to show their mistake, Nobody want to show their fake face
They just want to keep hiding and blame other race
The white says he is black, The black says he is red
The red says he is yellow, the yellow goes jumping..yet he is dead
This world is a mystery, this world is a little bit insane
But we should Irrigate it love , it is missing the lovely rain
Let's start a new day and keep smiling to this beautiful life
We are treating it bad, but it still give us all the care and love
why do you think of suacide
don't you know people love you
and need you by their side
so many reasons to stay alive
my question to you is why do
you want to take your life
life is what you make it
don't think of it as painful
grin with a smile and learn from it
life is not always a sweet smell in the rain
it can cause great pain, but suacide is nothing to contimplate
people live and die, some cant handle it and take their own life
no matter young or old people don't feel loved so they think
that by taking their life, their loved ones will learn
but suacide is not a wise choice
why hurt your family dont you know they will miss your sweet soft voice
life is hard dont make it harder, think about your future
please be a little smarter
so young with much to offer, stay with us and you'll learn
your heart can become much softer,
but suacide puts you in a hole, with no sunrise of laughter
life was given by the desion of the lord
not yours, you dont have permission to kill your soul
not on your own, it's not your time, don't sit down and whine
life can be beautiful you'll be surprised
take your time you'll understand, life becomes beautiful
only in your hands..
You seem so bruised
and its so beautiful as its reflecting off from you as it shines
youre in the bathroom carving holiday designs into yourself
Hoping no one will find you,
but they found you
And they took you
And you somehow survived.
So wake up, and if the holidays dont hollow out your eyes
Then press yourself against whatever
you find to be so beautiful and treambling life.
Life is a canvas. Does it make any sense?
Of course not but, its a beautiful mess you can reminisce.
If life were a pattern, a distinct coarse, a set road
there would be a well worn path underneath our feet.
Yet, I feel fresh, untouched, upturned soil between my toes.
Will my canvas be a beautiful masterpiece of awe inspiring revelations?
Will my canvas be a monster of a mess in plain, agonizing precisions?
Its up to my feet and where they lead me. My feet are led by my heart.
My heart pulls me towards the north, somewhere in the black, where the stars and moon part.
I know what I want my masterpiece to look like and hopefully it will be,
but if I died tomorrow what would you see?
My Eye ‘s failed me how could they let me down like that/I show them nothing but beautiful
things /I open them when they want and close when they want/How come they couldn’t see
this/I wish I could purchase some new ones but I’m loyal to old one’s/We saw a lot of things
stared at asses together and saw money together and my future/So how come we didn’t see
she was right for me together /It was like we were on two different pages/Do my eyes only
see beautiful things and blinded to the bad/Was this the classic heart VS conscious so we
what they seen/Who knows I just hope we back on track again
Oh! What a beautiful vase
Having selected the choicest one
It is so smooth, colors so grand
This one is the finest in the land
Was not always so
When at life did play
It fell shattered on the floor
Broken into a thousand pieces or more
Pieces were scooped up in their broken
State, carried to the Potter's house
There to wait their fate
Placing them on the shelf
To sit there all by themselves
Alone, shattered, no longer secure
But broken, torn, ugly refuge
Of use no more, ready to go home
Then the Potter removed it from
The shelf, saturated with His tears
And let it sit and soak to soften
To remove the abuse of the years
Any fears, any vileness, any hate
Then the Potter picked up the pieces
To restore the beautiful shape
He filled all the cracks, dreams, visions
Made each break stronger still
So in the latter half of life
This vase would be better useful
More genuine and very real
Upon the shelf is sitting
The vase with the Potter's
Touch his hand has restored
Given it the loving grace
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