Dear gentlemen of the prairie, the street and the dance.
Dear gentlemen, allow me ask -
Do you trouble with love? Romance?
Do they always turn you down?
Well let me, a damsel, tell you a golden rule us woman do not know we even cherish.

Stop trying to please her, stop, dear man.
Do not over-woo her, don't, dear gentlemen, don't.

Here's the secret;

It's not what a woman sees in a man, it is what a man sees in a woman, and how well he can prove it.
          
                                      ***

Some of us cease to think about death. Some of us think about every other day. Some people have come to accept it - because they know their time is near. Well, I believe in Jesus Christ and that when we die, we either go to heaven. . . Or to hell. I believe that energy - life, is borrowed. It was never ours to keep. And eventually, we all have to give it back. From the Universe we manifested, grew. Became who and what we are today, only to return. To become one with the beginning.

When It Comes To Being Afraid, Be A ****. Believe Me, It Works.
When Fear Grips You - Don't Scream.
Call It Hard, Call It Serene, Don't Scream.
Show It Your ******* No Matter How Hard It May Be
Show That ******* You Don't Fear, Even If You Do.
Fear Is Choice. It Is Not Real. I Do Not Fear Satan, I Do Not Fear God. I Respect God, God respects me. Out Of Respect, Not Because He Makes Me Feel That I Am Doomed To Death If I don't. I Love God.

Her Perfume Bleeds Who She Is.
It Dances Upon The Hearts Of Men She's Shattered, Leaving Them As A Substance Beyond Shard. Her Perfume Is Intoxicating. It Reads Woman. It Sings In Harmony With The Smell Of Wet Nail polish And Spilt Champagne. She Has Blue Eyes, Brown Skin, Coarse Hair. She Has No Face, For The Face Of Beauty Is Upon All Women.
From The Rose On Her Neck, To The Musk Upon Her Skin.
Her Perfume Bleeds, Who She Is. X

What does it take to be infinite? What is it that we all have, yet still lack? What is above all governments and airheads? What makes crack heads and drugs addicts stronger and more infinite than the world's strongest men? What makes the Earth and all co-existing matter a ball and chain and rules all? What bites at metals and makes kings and destroys ruins and buries temples? What is above the highest point yet is below the heavens and hell? Time.  God is time. It takes time, to know God. With God, you can bite through the metal that chains you, you can  become king, you can bury temples. You can move mountains. You must find God-dom within yourself for that is where higher Self comes from - from within. From listening to the *within

So Here's A Poem I Wrote In The Sixth Grade* :) :o

As Shakespeare once wrote, "love, is like a strong breeze. It lifts you, and curdles you like a flower in the wind". I, myself, have been lifted.

I have been lifted so high aghast, my heart has been illuminated by the faint light of the heavens, singing praise do the angels, praise of you and I.

So take my hand, my beautiful sin, and let's take a leap. Let us dis-obey out promise, our vows and our morals, let us leave them all behind.

If you refuse, my blue sky, I will not be enangered by your choice. I shall not make strife, for then, I shall take my own life.

Death is such sweet sorrow. But smile, my love, smile. For when it is your cheek, that is to be kissed by the angel of death, I shall be waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.

I shall be same, and you will be young again. I will smile and kiss your cheek, and we will set sail upon the seas of the heavens, and forever and ever, the story of you and I, Will be engraved on the stars of the night sky.

                                   ***

Hey Mitzi, this is a more psychological thing than it is a poem, but hey, w.e.

I Write This As You Lay Under My Arm
Stiff, But Concious.
You Don't Seem To Always Know Who I Am Because You Stare Is Often Blank, But You Lay Concious.

It's Alright. You've Lived. You've Walked A Mile.

I Love You. I Write This Tears Roll Down My Cheeks. I Can Do Nothing But Pray And Watch Your Physical Responses.

Your Asleep, but Your Eyes Are Half Open And You Seem To Stare At Something In The Distance.

Beyond Me. Beyond Anything.

I'm Sorry I Can't Afford To Get You Any Professional Help, As You Suffer A Stroke.

Your A Cat And You Can't Read. But That's Okay, Because Your Exceptional.

Remember At Times, When No One Was Home At It Was Just You And Me, And I'd Protect You And You'd Protect Me?

I Wish I Could Protect You, But I can't Protect You From Yourself.

She Likes To Study, I Don't.
I Have ADD, She Doesn't.
She's Dumb And Lives By The Book,
I'm Smart And Do Whatever I Like.
She Likes Romance, I Like Comedy.
I've Had My First Kiss And The Millions After,
She Hasn't.

I Love Her. She's Beautiful. She Has A Big Nose And Large Forehead Which I Wouldn't Be Able To Picture Her Without.

I Love Her, She Loves Me, Though She Doesn't Say It Much.

I Love Her

*** Lilly

I See My Hand In Front Of Me
I See It Play With The Sun And Cringe When It's Burned.
I Feel The ***** When I Lay A Finger Upon A Needle, I See My Finger Bleed.
I See My Hand, I Feel It - But I Don't Know How It Works.
I Don't Care About Chemistry Or Physical Science Or About The Millions Of Blood Vessels And Nerves And Molecules Inside My Brain, Signalling My Hand To Obey My Every Order.

I've Seen Many A Hand, And They're Beautiful.
Just Like Yours Or Mine.
I've Seen Brown Hands, Black Hands, Pale Hands With Blue Streaks That Bleed Red When Cut.

I Feel My Hand, I Know It's There.
I Can Touch And Feel And Hurt And Scare,
But How It Works, I Don't Care.

A planet with a layer of blue, is it really blue?
A horrid gas in-immune and unbearable to our soft and fragile lungs.
How fragile we are, us humans.

A planet so toxic to us
May be a ****** paradise to them.
The Elite.

Are they really?
Are They Elite?

Or are they simply not as stupid as the human race. . . ?

We do not foresee what our intelligence can do to those around us. What will the future be?
Will we destroy our paradise before the universe's time to do it on it's own? In it's own time?

Ha. We're a joke!

I think that back then a woman's number one priority was to be a good mother and to be a mother because now more than ever is the age in which the human race is farthest away from it's instinctual mentality. Just like your header " Go back.". Humans have built their own mental instincts . How fragile a race, yet how complex the intellect. In the future, nature won't be able to touch us. What once was the need to breed and populate became the need for knowledge and the expansion of the human brain's potential capacity. Man kind doesn't crave the need to populate. Only to satisfy their intellectual and physical properties. The human race doesn't give a **** about the human race. I just wish things were the way they were before...

But I'd be selfish to wish upon a life of strife, illness and pain. I'd be cruel to wish upon us a life of short living - a life of death dodging.
We have it awfully good, us humans. &we; don't even know it.
I love this life, I really do. I mean, when was the last time you had to fight for your food? We desire power, but also love being victims.
We love the bravado but we always know how to be timid.
Don't we all just love being weak? No masks, no muscle, just guns and white teeth.
Corporate monsters rule the world but the world only wants to be ruled. It's easier that way, it easier to just pretend to be fooled. Man loves power, but is disgusted by responsibility.  
The human race is ruled by blood lust disguised as lust after power. Must it be so?

She's Beautiful When She Smiles, When She Walks, When She Runs..

Or At least She Thinks So.

She Makes Heads Turn And Sets Her Own Trends - Not Only Because She Can't Afford To Abide To The New Ones..

Or So She Thinks So..

There Was Only Ever One Who Truly Ever Loved Her, She Pushed Him Away, And Now He Hates Her..

Or So She Thinks So....

She Is Me, And I Am Her. I'm Insecure, I Try To Compete. I'm Not Good Enough, I'm Too Tall. I'm Too Short, I'm Never Talked About In A Good Light. I'm Not Beautiful, I'm Not Proud. I'm Insecure, I'm Too Proud.

She Loves Herself, She Hates The World. She Loves To Write. She Loves The Whirl. She Is In Her Own World, She Loves The Song Of Trunkwall. She Can Fly, She Loves To Cry And She's Beautiful.

Or At Least I Think So.. :)

She's Beautiful When She Smiles, When She Walks, When She Runs..

Or At least She Thinks So.

She Makes Heads Turn And Sets Her Own Trends - Not Only Because She Can't Afford To Abide To The New Ones..

Or So She Thinks So..

There Was Only Ever One Who Truly Ever Loved Her, She Pushed Him Away, And Now He Hates Her..

Or So She Thinks So....

She Is Me, And I Am Her. I'm Insecure, I Try To Compete. I'm Not Good Enough, I'm Too Tall. I'm Too Short, I'm Never Talked About In A Good Light. I'm Not Beautiful, I'm Not Proud. I'm Insecure, I'm Too Proud.

She Loves Herself, She Hates The World. She Loves To Write. She Loves The Whirl. She Is In Her Own World, She Loves The Song Of Trunkwall. She Can Fly, She Loves To Cry And She's Beautiful.

Or At Least I Think So.. :)

Like A she-wolf she would hunt the only way she knew how.
She dropped expensive glasses and precious stones,  and danced on the shards and bled upon the floor, she was strange.

She rode tall horses and called them giraffes. She would smile, and the finest ladies would come to envy her charm.

She sat with slaves, she kissed their cheeks. She called them friends, though they weren't hers to keep. She hated the money, she wanted the deep. Late at night, she would party till the dawn. In the morning sunshine is where she liked to sleep. She was daughter of the rain &snow; - She was daughter of the steep.

The Children With Dreams, Once So Ambitious.
He Had A Dream. He Wanted To Become An Artist. They Said No, So He Lay Upon The Torn Canvas And Secretly Caresses The Broken Brushes And Bathes With The Paint Once So Vibrant - One That Once Spoke With A Voice Ringing.

She Wanted To Become A Pilot, They Said No. She Breaks The Model Aeroplanes And Puts The Splinters Upon Her Lips And Kisses Them Softly, Never To Be Seen Again - To Be Spoken Of.

She Wanted To Become A Professional Skateboarder, But They Said No. So She Sleeps With The Shattered Wood And Bruised Wheels And Hides Them Under Her Bed When The World Comes And Checks On Her.

We Had Dreams, They Said No. So We Ran. We Ran Towards Our Own Ambitions, Our Own Plan. We Slept On The Bus And Bathed In The Rain. We Hold On To Our Perfect Ideas Because No One Is Wrong When It Comes To Perfection. Our Plan Is Perfect. Your Plan Is Perfect. Don't Shatter It Upon The Rocks Of Society Just Because They Say So. Be Free, Because You Are.

Vibrations coursing through ones body
Crazed mazes and uncontrollable sensations.
Weird feelings in the air and strange tuxedos that don't even fit them.
But who cares, the vibes are sent by what you feel reflecting upon what you see.
You make them.

Art is all around us. It's everywhere. Effecting everyone. Like it or not, you're art. We're art. Every single vein coursing through our bodies, interlocking with every other. All with a special purpose of some kind, of some origin. We are art.

She Is The Hidden Puzzle Piece That Leaves The Entire Puzzle Unfinished Until Found And Completed.

She Is The Fragrance Of Our Emotions. Rose When We're In love, Musk When We Feel Lustrous And Lavender Once We Begin Our Lives In A Brighter Light.

Who Is She? She Provides Love And Salvation And Is Taken Advantage Of But Gets Up And Fights For The Lives Of Her Children. She Has Long Hair, And Short Hair. Coarse Hair, Fair Hair And No Hair.

She Has Blue Eyes, Green Eyes, Grey Eyes, Black Eyes, Brown Eyes. She Has No Eyes. She Has A Glass Eye.

Who Is She?

She Is Wicked And Binds Spells To Be Cast Out Into The World And Then Is Chained And Burns In The Fires Of Hell. She Is Breath Taking With Her Silence, Her Words, Her Voice, Her Hands, Her Lips, Her Touch And Embrace.

Her Love Brings Tears To The Eyes Of Many, And Sometimes Into Her Own.

She Bears, Destroys, Fights, Loves. She Is Manipulated. She Is Used. Forced To Become The Darkness Shielding The Darkness.

Can She Be Forgiven?

Who Is She?

She Is A Woman.