I've been beaten, I've been bruised.
I've been loved and I've been used
But through it all I kept my head held high.
Looking for the bright side
But every time it seems to show,
I'm too scared of letting go!
So I run and I hide.
All these feelings inside.

It's time to break the pattern,
And let them see.
All the beauty within me!

Chorus:
Gotta let go,
Gotta let me know
This isn't me.
You know I try to
Let loose
But what happens when they see
The real me.

I'm no good at rejection
So I never aim too high.
Scared of my own reflection
Am I losing my mind.

No this can't be it
This isn't life
Got to get off this ride.

Split personality,
I'm losing my mind.
Don't want to hear your story,
I'm busy with mine.
Not a pretty picture like Gogh,
It's an awful sight.
I'll cut you off from my ears just to avoid a fight.
Tunnel vision in a starry night.
I don't care about squares or straights I only see circles
like copyright in my line of sight.
My frequency is two-toned like morse code,
makes it hard to recite.
I've been gone for too long It's time to phone home,
I hope you copy right,
Over.

There is a physical sport but psycological war going on between
The Red and The Blue.

We are very emotional.
We earn trust by being warm hearted, good willing and honest people
yet our frequency growls "warning!" because we strive in chaos.
We are always looking for order and sometimes we find it
and falls so deeply in love with it
It's inevitable that order becomes chaos or is constantly on the run from us.

--


We are the cold ones
We earn our respect by being hard working, forward driving people.
Like vampires we always seek to feed our thirst but we do it in secret.
Never will you see us emotional because we traded our hearts for endless knowledge.
Loyalty to the one that leads us into the future through
discipline and order because that is the key to evolve.

The lilies bloom in the garden and the soft southern wind blows through capturing the fragrance.
It fills the air with exotic perfume and surrounds a beautiful form.
Yesterday the place was barren and a oblique Stone stood upon the grave.
Now he stands in Majesty as the Lily surround him testifying of one of their own.
For he is coming from the valley of death, the first Lily to bloom in the garden.
A rose without Thorns born of Sharon. Arisen unto perfection he now goes to claim his throne.
As many who doubted look on in amazement he glows with a radiant light. As he slowly fades away he says please don't cry.
The perfume fills the air as a quiet Stillness settles all around. For where Death once r e g i n e d, Beauty now abounds.
For the first flower of the new springtime has blossomed and no more shall man fear death, for Christ the Savior has risen.

Written by - James M Vines.

It was a couple of years ago I had an experience I couldn't explain but wouldn't deny.
It was almost like a daydream that took me back to the age of five.
I saw how I was pushed into society before I had developed the wings to fly.
To survive I had to split my soul into two to create a false personality of mine.
Ever since, the 10% I was suppose to give as tide has been occupied by the hatching seeds in the left side of my thin mind.
The experience brought me back to where I lied. I couldnt move and my heart was racing It felt like I was going to die.
At the end of what felt like a paralyzed panic attack I had a strange tingle in the lowest part of my spine.
The tingles slowly started to rise,
like two angels slithering their way up all thirty three steps of Jacob's ladder to open up the seventh seal. My gateway to heaven.
It was sensational. A euphoric feeling, I never felt that happy before. Everything that was holding me back, all the bad memories
and all the grudges I had been holding on to, did not matter anymore.
I started to think freely and act accordingly. I worked less and wrote more because money was not a priority.
The value of life became clear to me.
There I was, reborn with Christ oil.

I dwelt in that right hemisphere of my brain for three and a half months before I got thrown out of paradise for questioning myself again.
Of course I tried to force my way back but drugs only gives you a temporary pass.
Besides I can't let go of the lifestyle of the genie in my genes that likes to buy expensive jeans.
It's genius how they deceive us, or I'm just seriously delirious and my psychological awareness is just as meaningless as my nihilistic periods.
Who is really the genie; us?

Isn't it compelling how poems can affect us so emotionally?
I mean sure a picture says more than a thousand words but
watching television only tells us a certain vision.
On the other hand contracting letters must always be spelled right or else there's nothing left to make sense.
I refuse to sign a contract to make cents, although I wouldn't cross swords if the oppertunity presents itself.
Maybe I am contradicting myself but crossing words is just a hobby to me, for now atleast.
I do believe that spelling is like magic spells. We fuse words like a magnet, they either connect to our feelings or repell eachother.
It's confusing sometimes when I get inspired beacasue I'm in spired to cast spells,
yet I can only spell what I've been remotely controlled by the remotecontroll to my limited visions.
I am afraid living.
Have I Lived or have I liveD in reverse and learned to embrace the Devil?