He was just a boy
Yes, just 16 years of age
But he wanted to follow the colors
Just to prove that he was brave
But he was just a man child
A rifle in his hand
Yes the rifle gave him manhood
But the mind was still a childs
In Flanders field he learned the truth
Of the transition to a man not youth
But the mind was left behind
Wounded by a shell by enemy fire
And all around him men did die
His courage was spent and gone
Scared, in pain
His shell shocked scrambled brain
He wandered from the field
In tears, in fear he cried out for his mum
Battered in body, battered in mind
The boy could take no more
Three days later they found him
Hiding in a farm
At rifle point they took him
With biting ropes around his arms
Poperinge was the place the courts martial
Then took place
The boy just stood there silent
Shaking, ashen faced
The fateful words were spoken
All cowards have to die
'Thus before the firing squad
You must say your last goodbye
And so on that fateful morning
In the stable yard
The young boy in tears was tied
To the post by previous bullets scared
They pinned a white card upon his breast
For the firing squad to see
The command to fire was given
And a sixteen year old boy
Met his final destiny

Strong
Is the way you
Crawl through life's
barbed wires,
***** traps,
And barricades
And coming out still standing up after everything,
Still going.

Strong is withstanding
The harshest sand wind,
Letting the grains smother you,
Try to take you down,
But you still stand.

Strong is fighting for what is right,
Being able to know when you need to step in,
Realizing one's mistakes,
Fixing.

I got a big power pole that extends to Kamis lookout
Its so big and massive Dende dont doubt
Got my ***** gathered underneath you know I do
I know what you want to wish for so ill *** and give it to you
You say yours is big, you are just a claimer
My power pole so big It cant even be contained in the hyperbolic time chamber
My power pole is such a galore
Not even Hercule can save you anymore
I know your curious ill make you come browsing
Then when you find it your gonna be like ohshit ITS OVER 9000!!!!!!

i suppose i am composed
of some of my mother
and parts of my father
no matter how i try to shed them both
i am warped by premature exposure
to prostitution and *******
my veins are ***** from
the needles i don't use
and my head is clear from
the pills i don't take
painted skin covers
the pale emptiness
my skin as a canvas
that all too accurately reflects
the blank white nothing inside of me
cruel hope after hope that's been
left to disappoint
disapproval of myself end to end
fiber to fiber is deemed inadequate
so focus outward forget about this body
how to impact the world
how to change the world
how to fix the world

in a cluster
of trees
beneath fingers
of sunlight
a forgotten
cemetery
lies decrepit
beside an old
back road
named after
an indian tribe

most people
are afraid
of being
forgotten
but i wish
to be buried
in the
forgotten
cemetery
surrounded by
crooked stakes
of rusted
wraught iron
engulfed by ivy

and i wish
to let the
earth
consume me
oncemore

Little girl,
you are not the scars on your thighs
or the mocking stares from "friends."
You do not live to be there for others;
you are your own galaxy, beautiful-
unknowable even to yourself sometimes
and that is not entirely a bad thing.
As you grow up,
you will learn to appreciate
the complexity of your solar systems
and you will not need to open up your veins
to see the planets hiding underneath your skin.

Little girl,
this pain will not last forever
and if I could, I would go back to you-
little girl sobbing naked in a bath tub
she turned red with her own blood-
and I would lull you to sleep,
spare you the tears and the scars and the ache.
But your pain will teach you lessons
that no happiness could have;
one day you will rise from the ashes
like a phoenix, wings held high,
engulfed in the flame of your former self.
And you will be so proud.

This sea of sorrow we swim in keeping our heads above to breathe is a fight, life is fragile and un promised to us all. Like waves in the ocean or the turning of the cosmos , change unravels if we want it to or not.
I  hope solace finds a way into the coldest depths of sadness, hope a beautiful human feeling burns and weeps in each of us. The relationships we have with those departed is always with us growing as we do, personalized and meaningful  in our hearts and minds, touched by the light of life we appreciate our own endeavors and those closest to us more. No better a way to appreciate, to give thanks to and also to feel the compassion our cherished friends give us every day.  There is no better inspirations or sacrifice. Andy, so many here moved by you, as we will always be. Thank you for being the inspiration guiding us. You are hope.