soft and low the sugars flow
with wicked eyes the eve i know
sorrow builds with hidden regret
a timeless spill that even i don't know yet
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Slumber
A slinky mistress
soft and seductive
close enough to touch
the distance is greater
we're divided by such
a love everlasting
wasn't strong enough
alive in the new year
praying for rebirth
fallen memory
becomes faint even still
a mind that's blank
awaken in slumber
soft and seductive
close enough to touch
the distance is greater
we're divided by such
a love everlasting
wasn't strong enough
alive in the new year
praying for rebirth
fallen memory
becomes faint even still
a mind that's blank
awaken in slumber
Monday, August 17, 2009
Overcast
Looked to the clouds thought I saw Jesus
but it was just an illusion
it was just imagination
Cover the sky with the love that’s alive
There’s none down here, it’s all a lie
We are told to believe
Told to breathe
I keep breathing in this disease
Overcast is this life
Stormy and black
Fill your lungs as it swirls before it attacks
A quiet walk down the street, she looks up to the sky
Her dress flowing round her thighs
Being pushed by the wind, helpless and loose
Everything has changed, nothing is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
strong and the weak
dead and living
The future is bleak
A crowd awaits the coming days
Under this dark abyss, a hiding place
A desolate face, all empty space
Fill this life with passion and desire
Make dark become light, burn this fire
The thickening clouds may never retire
Everything has changed, nothing is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
strong and weak
dead and living
The future is bleak
A dim light pierces through
A crowd once a shadowy walking dead
Now awaken by a beam of truth
This light that’s been inside of you
The clouds open up by such brilliant array
Standing alone tears fall down her face
Now the heavens aren’t so black, they truly exist
Nothing has changed, everything is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
The strong and the weak
The dead and the living
The future is unknown
but it was just an illusion
it was just imagination
Cover the sky with the love that’s alive
There’s none down here, it’s all a lie
We are told to believe
Told to breathe
I keep breathing in this disease
Overcast is this life
Stormy and black
Fill your lungs as it swirls before it attacks
A quiet walk down the street, she looks up to the sky
Her dress flowing round her thighs
Being pushed by the wind, helpless and loose
Everything has changed, nothing is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
strong and the weak
dead and living
The future is bleak
A crowd awaits the coming days
Under this dark abyss, a hiding place
A desolate face, all empty space
Fill this life with passion and desire
Make dark become light, burn this fire
The thickening clouds may never retire
Everything has changed, nothing is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
strong and weak
dead and living
The future is bleak
A dim light pierces through
A crowd once a shadowy walking dead
Now awaken by a beam of truth
This light that’s been inside of you
The clouds open up by such brilliant array
Standing alone tears fall down her face
Now the heavens aren’t so black, they truly exist
Nothing has changed, everything is the same
A game of catch and release
Pain and pleasure
The strong and the weak
The dead and the living
The future is unknown
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Hungry?
I can feel the pangs of hunger rising from within
It’s reaching from the bottom, trying to shake me, trying to wake me
I’m so afraid to lose that I can’t feed these thoughts
The pang of hunger conquers every need, covers every want
I am needy, I am sick
I am hungry for the unknown, one that I can pick
Forever I will stand awaiting my trial
Suffering from such torment as I fill up this vial
It’s an aching inside that I’ve never felt
It’s a pang of hunger that can’t be fed
It’s a wandering plea to save what’s to fall
It’s a craving you see, to consume us all
It’s reaching from the bottom, trying to shake me, trying to wake me
I’m so afraid to lose that I can’t feed these thoughts
The pang of hunger conquers every need, covers every want
I am needy, I am sick
I am hungry for the unknown, one that I can pick
Forever I will stand awaiting my trial
Suffering from such torment as I fill up this vial
It’s an aching inside that I’ve never felt
It’s a pang of hunger that can’t be fed
It’s a wandering plea to save what’s to fall
It’s a craving you see, to consume us all
Bound.
A single for your thought?
A soul that’s been lost.
Hammered every peg, nothing remains but a vacant lot.
Pressured by a force unbreakable and strong, it holds us all together bound by every bond.
Hands tied
Eyes shut
Lips sewn
It’s all a joke
A fake world like puppets on a string
A circus filled with animals controlled by whips and chains
Nothing being salvaged and no one is to blame
It’s all over now it’s an inevitable sphere
Providence that the end is near
A soul that’s been lost.
Hammered every peg, nothing remains but a vacant lot.
Pressured by a force unbreakable and strong, it holds us all together bound by every bond.
Hands tied
Eyes shut
Lips sewn
It’s all a joke
A fake world like puppets on a string
A circus filled with animals controlled by whips and chains
Nothing being salvaged and no one is to blame
It’s all over now it’s an inevitable sphere
Providence that the end is near
Monday, June 15, 2009
Triumph.
On an Autumn's day, a 16 year old girl sits in her room, windows open with the crisp breeze flowing through. Sitting on her floor she flips through the latest Teen Vogue, on the front cover is a picture of a petite model. Flipping through each page, plastered with different slim models. She then gets to a section about, '10 ways to lose weight fast.' Seeing this makes her think of the past pages she had just glanced over, what if she could look like them? She stands up, peers into the mirror and sees a short and curvaceous reflection. She is not overweight and yet she now sees herself as less than ideal. She continues to compare herself to the girls in the magazine. With every picture it becomes more and more apparent that she is not this magazine's image of perfection. She finds herself comparing her body to every one of the girls she sees, not only in magazines but those on the street. The comparison consumes her, stealing her joy. She has become incomplete, and unhappy. The type of beauty shown in these magazines are not real. This Photoshop type of beauty is not a reality, not even for those models. Life is not meant for comparison, life is meant for individualism. Stop letting comparison steal your joy.
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