While Beauty LivesBeauty fades.
It is but an abstraction of reality
that lasts for a mere moment,
so lets live the ecstasy that is this artistic second in time
before it turns to sand
and fills the desert beneith our feet,
and drowns us in a sea of sensational dirt
whose colours once painted our world
A Perfect Pain You're my pain
But it's not what you would expect
You are perfect
The mere comparison of the two of us makes me question my existence
Your composure is so well put together
Every piece fits together like magic
The way you walk is something special
Your feet hit the floor with a grace that eludes my comprehension
your stride is held up by a confidence that's so..
It's as if the way you hold yourself can hold me up too when I feel as if i can't get to my feet
You are so developed
Not in the sense of body
But the way your soul has matured
Beauty, in all sense of the word is presence in your thoughts,
In your heart;
Sewn into the very fibre of who you are
Woven with the most beautifully coloured threads and laces
I can see the world in your eyes
As if there was nothing to fear
You're as secure as a safe
Your arms could wrap themselves
A guide to understanding artistsPlease read carefully:
Each sketch or doodle is important
So don't say the following:
"It's just a sketch. Can't I have it? You won't miss it!"
Or you will end up with freshly sharpened pencils up your ass
Artist get attached to things they create
Much like mothers and their babies
Remember that It's cruel to separate parents and children until the children are old enough to go out on their own
Until that day
DO NOT ask for art until it has matured and is ready to leave the nest
If you ask an artist to look through their sketchbook one of the three things will happen:
A) you will be given a stone cold glare, indicating how stupid the question really was
B) you will be allowed to peek at select number if sketches the artist seems qualified to be seen
C) you will be stabbed painfully in the eyes with a fork (or whatever else is in hands reach.
NEVER under any circumstance look through the said sketchbook WITHOUT PERMISSION
The Heart Necklace A child sits numbly at a table
the chairs across from him are empty.
Children race about around him
and he watches as their attention dashes through him.
He wears a heart necklace the red of a summer sunrise
and plays with it idly between his fingers. It can be split in two but it stays as one.
Someday, I'll find someone to wear this with me
He whispers, almost as if to console himself.
A teenager sits meekly at a table
the chairs across from him are empty.
Other teens text and chat with their friends
and he watches as one girl smiles at him with honey eyes.
He wears a heart necklace the red of his blushing face
and he plays with it idly between his fingers. It is split in two but both pieces are around his neck.
Someday, she may wear this with me
He whispers, almost lost in his shy giggles.
A man sits proudly at a table
the chair across from him sits a woman with honey eyes.
Anyone else w
The reason why I will not draw youArt is something that is almost indefinable. Essentially, it is something people created to express emotions and intellects. Art is something that goes beyond reality and opens our minds to the ideas of others.
Art is something everyone has been impacted by. Eve
The story of glassSo I saw her.
I saw her broken
and I saw the hollow glaze in her eyes
like the the world had sucked the life out of her.
they were a work of beauty
and they filled my heart with what they didn't posses.
She lay upon the floor as if in pieces
like broken glass.
I walked towards her and the glass she shed cut my feet
but my curiosity grew bold enough not to care about the red foot prints
that trailed my walk.
I slowly picked up her pieces and my hands were raw with cuts
and painted with the red of shimmering blood
but all I could feel was my heart throbbing
all I wanted was to try to piece this girl back together
and so I tried.
I really did.
But some pieces were too far gone
under my feet and beyond the repair I could give.
So I willingly filled those broken pieces with my own
So I could see the cracks in her soul disappear
and I grew weak
so I could see her grow strong.
And she did.
I put her togethe
To Burn a Prayer...To burn a prayer
into a newborn's gentle skin
is but a scar
that the hands of time will carve
And to stitch the word of The Lord
to a young man's heart
Will shed blood in broken thread.
A golden cross may belong around your neck
But it's my necklace of thorns
Twine too tight not to bleed
To be subservient to an ancient book
Is but the slave of an unproductive world
In the eyes of a child who's mind has wings
Of a different colour.
And perhaps a life that is right for you
Is not one a child would grow into.
I'm used to itI would have followed you off the earth just to see a smile
break the stone of an endless frown
But instead I was thrown off the end of the earth for but the crash was never as soft as a fragile smile
Maybe it hurt
But it doesn't matter
I'm used to it after all
For but if something is put into routine, why change it?
I would have given warmth to the snow as it gingerly pranced down from the heavens to touch your cheek
Just to see you dance in winter's blaze.
But instead you let me stumble into an inferno
that scorched my heart black.
It broke me
But why should it matter when
I'm used to it.
For you never knew the break was in the hands of your fault
So I was left without a bandage
I would have knit a sweater of the finest of wool
to keep the shine in your eyes warm and gold
But your craft would stitch a straight jacket from the rawest of straw
And leave me confused
Boys can hurt too...And he sat
In a place no one could find him.
Where the grasp of his peers could not pull him under
And the hot breath of his family couldn't raise the hairs on his neck.
He ripped at his hair with his fingers
As if to pull out the fear
The feeling he got that impaled his heart.
He wondered how his heart could have been poisoned so
When it was sealed behind the cage of his ribs
And locked with a key of reason.
Perhaps, instead of protecting his heart
He imprisoned it.
He let that cage rust alone
So no one could get in
He let the rust encase his hopeful soul
And he let the very will to not get hurt
Guard the prison he obliviously made
And his heart slowly died of neglect
It cracked, and became a broken masterpiece.
The permanent scars that slowly appeared
Was as if an open door to the things he feared
And they crawled inside and replaced everything he once loved
His heart was
School, Tests, and All The RestI'm not smart enough for this.
I have no answer for this question.
The more I search my brain,
The more I feel inadequate.
I cannot fathom the correct answer.
Didn't I study this for hours?
Why is your intellect based
On such trivial things?
Apparently, I am not as smart as I thought.
Why don't I know what to write?
This test is a nightmare.
Why can't I get this right?
The only thing about me I was proud of
Has now vanished
Because my textbook knowledge
Wasn't up to par.
Letters to all the people I have kissedi. Rob
I expected a knight in shining armour but you were
just a boy, just a boy.
you flirted and you teased and you kissed me
at midnight on new year’s eve and set the tone
for that whole god-forsaken year.
I could taste lies on your tongue and doubt in your fingers;
you said you were a taurus but you were gemini all over.
friends shouldn’t kiss in the kitchen and
friends shouldn’t drink gin together and
friends shouldn’t cry, drunk on misery, and
friends shouldn’t break another friend’s heart and
I’m still sorry.
I expected just a boy but you were
a knight in shining armour, silver to the pretty
ivory teeth, who was looking for a damsel and found
only don quixote, tilting at windmills and refusing
to be saved.
we were drunk and you were more beautiful
under the harsh car park lights than I had noticed before
and you were mid-sentence and I was mid-hiccup and
we still laugh about it now.
I was imperfect.
I was the lie.
I was not honest.
For I am sorrow.
I'm not worth it.
There's no tomorrow.
Why didn't anyone listen?
Why didn't anyone see?
I am just a mirror
of what's to be!
I am empty.
I am gone!
I am nothingness.
I'm a fraud!
So please forgive me...
because I'm needy...
and you don't need me:
you need no one.
Dear MeDear me, I know we've had disagreements
And that we don't always see eye to eye,
But the last thing I want for you
Is to feel like you have to say goodbye.
Dear me, I know you've been hurting a while
And I know that you're sick of the misery,
But just keep holding on a day at a time
And someday you'll find yourself set free.
Dear me, I know you've been crying.
I've seen your demons give chase.
Smile instead for things will get better.
Wipe those tears off your pretty face.
Dear me, I know your heart is breaking,
Like your being is shattered in two,
But please, don't give up just yet.
The survival rate is too few.
Dear me, I see that you're struggling,
That you feel like you're on the brink.
But keep pushing forward, keep fighting.
You're much stronger than you think.
Dear me, I feel so proud of you.
You've made it out alive.
You're happy now with all you've gained.
You've reached all for which you did strive.
Broken Dreams"Go ahead, dream big," they liked to tell you.
"Send your hopes up to the sky."
They told you that whatever you believed in,
Those happy thoughts in the back of your brain,
It could all be true if only you believed.
That's all they said you needed to do, right?
To believe it was possible?
Sure, there were also mentions of hard work,
Mentions of putting in effort.
But every time, you were told to believe.
And you believed with all your heart.
Your dreams were larger than the earth itself
Stretching and growing far out of ordinary grasp.
And you worked hard too.
You wanted that dream more than anything.
You longed for the happy future it offered.
But there's a problem with large dreams.
You see, the bigger your dreams are,
And the more time and effort you invest in them,
The more it hurts when it all comes crashing down.
Friendship DeterminedShe felt the pain of a thousand deaths.
Things would never again be the same.
Alone, bereft - with no one to stop her hurt -
Yielding to the need to curl in on herself,
Wallowing in pain, she crumbled.
Internal bleeding that could never be healed
Tore her soul into a million pieces.
Heart aching and refusing to beat,
Maddening agony crippling her mind,
Encompassing her whole being.
Abandoned was how he found her then.
Lacing his arms around her fragile form,
Wrapping her in the blanket of his love.
Acknowledging her need to purge the pain within,
Years of false truths finally coming to light,
Shushing her wails, he held her tightly.
HopeWhen no one else ever seemed to notice me,
You were the first to say "hello".
And you did so with beaming joy.
When I felt so outcast and alone from the world,
You were the one who sat by my side.
And listened with an open heart.
When no one else would acknowledge my very existence,
You were the one to reach out and bare your soul to me.
And you made me feel like somebody.
When I thought of so many reasons to die...
You became my reason to live...
And I will never forget that.
The futurethe path widens
toward something unknown
a nervousness follows
a curiosity takes over
and we run to embrace the future
Soldier BoyOne day he came home,
A man given freedom.
He looked in the mirror,
And liked what he saw...
The days wore on,
And he lived his life.
Morning PT was a distant memory,
So too were the shouts of a Sergeant.
Training came thrice at first,
Then twice, then once,
The days wore on...
And life became harder,
Sacrifices were made.
He looked in the mirror one day,
And didn't like what he saw.
Not the pot-bellied man working for a few scraps.
Nor the slovenly fellow who'd forgotten how to clean his kit.
He earned his freedom, but he had lost what he respected...
And the days wore on...
And so he went out running, one fateful day,
His lungs burning with every breath.
Yet despite the pain inside his chest,
He resolved the soldier, would return to his best.
"You've been gone a long time Corporal Chen, what say we go once more around
-Word of Chen, One-shot, 24 February
The Irony Of PerfectionOne who does not possess the gem of perfection sees himself but of a shadow of someone that is more, but yet renders clueless the plague he ceases to see upon him, for his imperfections sculpt him into a masterpiece all his own. The irony of perfection is only seen by the one who created himself perfect, his excellence in every lift of his finger and blink of his eye to bore him as he gains no further in what he used to value, in what his passion used to be but his love to vanish surprisingly as he preformed flawlessly to no where. Perfection creates nothing but bordom to build slowly as a sour scab on his soul, realizing he can go nowhere else but infront of a halting stop sign. He sighs as he watches his shadow build himself into more and more each day, longing to become what he was as if the shadow himself while the shadow builds only to become the possessor, unaware that he will soon wish to be his own shadow someday.