Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
there’s a great terror in the universe
there’s a beast in the great terror of the universe
a beast is a beauty of a great terror
a beast is a beauty of a great terror in the universe
beauty is the beast,beauty is the great terror,beauty is the universe
beauty is the beast of a great terror
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of a great terror

the eyes of the beast is beauty of the beast
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of the beholder
the eyes of the beast is the beholder of the beast
the eyes is the beholder of a beast
the eyes is the beholder of a great terror
beholder is beholder of a beast
beholder is beholder of a great terror

beauty is the beholder of the universe
beauty is the beholder of a great terror
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the universe
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the beholder
beauty is beauty in the eyes of a great terror
the beholder of a beast is the beholder of a great terror
the beholder is the eyes of the beast
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about there's a beast in the great terror of the universe. i don't add capitalization's on my writing.
the eye of the tiger is,
the beholder of a lion’s din
the eye of the tiger is,
the beholder of a lion’s beauty
beauty is the beholder of a lion’s beauty
beauty is the beholder of a lion’s din
a lion’s din is a lion’s beauty

the eye of the tiger is,
the beholder of a lion
a lion’s din is a lion’s eye of the tiger
a lion’s din is a lion’s sight
a din is a din of a lion
a din is a din of a sight
a din is a din of beauty

a sight of beauty is a sight of a lion
a sight of beauty is a sight of a din
a lion’s sight is a lion’s din
a lion’s sight is a lion’s eye of the tiger
beauty is beauty’s din
beauty is beauty’s lion of a din
beauty is a sight of a lion
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about beauty is a sight of a lion. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
CK Baker Mar 2017
its amazing what we’re capable of when pressed;
lunar launches
and shaman healing
hail marys
and fortunes of gold
heavy hauls
and broken borders
war, compassion
and treaties of peace

all those wild and lofty regressions from the mean;
soul re-settings
(from deadly deeds)
scores and scriptures
liberty and peace
walls, asylums
(in the jaws of defeat!)
channeled spirits
of warmth
and love
and connection

and sometimes, it’s just a little fodder;
pyramids and viaducts
aqua-lines and chunnels
spider climbs
and deep dives
(with base jumps near the high wire)
gardens, and divine art
and even water boards
(for beauty is always in the eye of the beholder!)

have a look around...
and let gratitude be your guide
Silent Sanctuary Jul 2016
As insecure toddlers, we were often told by our parents that inner beauty is more important than outer beauty. This is how they were able to instill in us the confidence we may have today, whenever we represent ourselves in front of other people. However, this is something I find to be quite inaccurate.  If you ask a random person about what they find beautiful and attractive, most of them would probably begin to describe a person’s physical attributes than the internal attributes.

Beauty is defined to be the perfect balance and harmony with nature, which may lead to feelings of attraction and emotional well-being. Since the attraction is subjective, the term “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” takes place. Many individuals would like to believe that looks are never important, and that judgments should be based on a person’s internal well-being instead of its outer counterparts.

In our modern society, external beauty is more favorable since everything becomes more convenient, than when you only have internal beauty. People will always see your external beauty the moment they see you and not that beautiful mind and soul of yours, and that’s what makes them attracted to you. Just like with expensive cars, the moment a car is put into the market, the consumer who will buy them would first look at their exterior first before they would look for its driving ability; no matter how good its performance may be, these people would always look at its exterior. Also, external beauty can help you be successful, it can land you jobs, earn more money, and help you be treated with more respect by strangers than those with internal beauty.

The preference for external beauty than internal beauty is what is wrong in our current society. We live up to the evolved norms of society that we have started to grow backwards. Outer beauty fades, and no matter how beautiful you are on the outside, once people get to know you, you’d be nothing but a simple less attractive human being than you once were. I would leave a wonderful quote here written by a great author: “A tree may look as beautiful as ever; but when you notice the insects infesting it, and the tips of the branches that are brown from disease, even the trunk seems to lose some of its magnificence.”
the eye of the tiger is,
the eye of a vengeance
the eye of the tiger is,
the eye of a clash tiger
the eye of the tiger is,
the lure of a tiger
the eye of the tiger is,

the lure of a vengeance
vengeance is a lure of a vengeance
vengeance is a lure of a tiger
resolution is a lure of resolution
resolution is a lure of a tiger
a tiger resolution is a tiger lure of resolution
a tiger resolution is a tiger beauty

a tiger resolution is a tiger vengeance
beauty is the beholder of beauty
beauty is the beholder of a tiger
beauty is a clash of beauty
beauty is a clash of a tiger
the beholder is the beholder of a clash tiger
the beholder is the beholder of a clash beauty
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about a tiger’s lure is a tiger’s vengeance. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
Dark n Beautiful Apr 2010
The ******.
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the
beholder, however the ******
is a gold mine.

Women do not even know
what their possess
many a nation have gone to war,
because of this ugly beauty,
the seven hundred wives of
King Solomon and his three
hundred concubines
a great example of what
the ugly beauty can do.

Infidelity is on the rise,
so many lies,
since the ****** is an embarassing subject
why men lie and killed for it,
For this remarkable commodity

A ****** is like a Van Gogh painting,
it gets lot of attention.
A weapon so powerful
It can break a man down to his lowest
it has a language of its own.
silly words like sup, sup, sup. during loving making
However, that was supposed to be the primary appeal
of a beer to men.

The ****** and a beer have so much in common
they both get their men all the time,
a smooth transportation,
in addition, the lamentation,
****** you are surely number one!
Men incredible dreams,
No matter how destructive or fulfilling,.

.
Dark@beautiful/or Darknlovely
Judson Shastri Jan 2012
The rain has not ceased
since it began its ceaselessness;
a day I cannot now remember,
though it was only six ago.
Earth and sky hold mutual watership,
Either general is down and gray.
But held in the eyes that hold –
the beauty of Beholder bold –
is a prettier time of day.
A time I do wish would stay.
I
have not writ so many words
that none more can be written
of this picture's higher worth to me
like spoken love from the mouth of God.
Around on the horse of nature's sorrow,
the world and I are to be sent.
Cné Feb 2018
from head to my toes
you don’t seem to see my flaws
& i love your eyes.
Chalsey Wilder Mar 2014
I think you're beautiful
Your curvy body
The body I want to touch so gently
You hate your curves
The curves I love so much

I love your face
Even with all the blemishes
Your face is so beautiful
But you hate your face because of the blemishes

I love your **** and hips
Because they're a part of you
You hate them, but I don't know why
Sometimes I wish I could hug and kiss you so much that you wouldn't hate yourself anymore

Where you hate yourself I love
Where you love yourself I love even more

I see your beauty
Why can't you?

I guess I am the beholder of your beauty

You are the beauty in my eye of the beholder
This is about a girl I have a crush on. Her name is Mackenzie. Haven't seen her in about two months. Whenever I think of her I think about how beautiful she is and how she doesn't believe it. She hates her body, but I love her body. Sometimes I feel like holding her till she does believe it when I think of her. I want to be her friend if I can't be more than that with her. She doesn't know how beautiful she is.
God she's so beautiful it almost hurts to think about her sometimes.
Nicole Bataclan Oct 2015
Autumn is a sturdy man
Eager to take your clothes off
What a mess he will leave on the floor

Some dignity hanging on
For as long as possible
But he gets bolder by the day
Complacent to stay.


Autumn is a coy woman
Eager to wear the colors of desire
What a sight she leaves for the beholder

Some courage to resist
As you blow her a kiss
But before she succumbs
She is promised a firework.


Autumn is a seductive game
Here to devour her right away
While withholding for her is foreplay

His approach is raw
She delays her fall
She wanted it to last
But he came too fast.
The Calm Mar 2017
They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But sometimes I ask myself, how can this be?
Cause when I look with my eyes, I only start to feel resent
and I begin to despise, the things I realize like
how my women of color have been simplified, and hypserxualized
how the black woman's body has been used and abused and now
It personifies, sexuality and promiscuity, out of all the things media feeds us these are some of the worst lies
You see cause black women are queens, and when white culture saw their worth, they were rattled
They couldn't help but try to minimize and de-legitimize, and put a guise over the eyes of all that viewed her
She is not just a big ***, big lips or hips
She is the mother of humanity, in her essence from her hair, to lips to her fingertips she is a Queen, and she is to be respected.
And I will die for her honor, We will not go back into slavery days, I will not stand here while she gets up on stage naked and her body is dissected, and her soul, her essence neglected, her heart, her mind infected.
From these queens come the workers, the Kings, without the black woman we have no past and we have no future
We must protect the black woman, for she is sacred like scripture.
Red-Writing-Hood Oct 2012
What is beauty?
Is is the piles and strokes of powder and paint we slick on our faces each morning, evening and night because we think it makes us look better?
Or is it our white, black, or yellow skin, maybe clear, covered in pimples or freckles, round, thin or a shape with no names?
Is beauty the so called 'perfect' women we see on the runway and on magazine covers, the women who starve themselves?
Maybe it's the women who weigh a ton or have to shop in the plus sizes, break a sweat when they climb a flight of stairs or order more than one main course at a restaurant?
Is beauty our skinny, chubby or obese faces, stomach or limbs, is weight merely just a number and what really matters is what we think of ourselves? What we see in the mirror every time we stare at our gorgeous bodies and faces no matter the appearance?
Is beauty the blue, green or brown in our eyes? The price of the clothes that we wear or the quality of our material possessions homes or cars?
No
For beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and if you let that beholder be someone that cannot really see what truly is inside of you...they don't matter
That beholder may be hard to find but someday you'll find someone that's kind and kind enough to say to you what everyone should hear once, twice, twenty times a day
They will say, baby you were born this way so stand up, be strong, smile that straight, crooked or brace-faced smile because it's the smile I dream of waking up to everyday
They will say, bat those beautiful lashes to show me those breath-taking eyes that I want to stare into for hours on end no matter the color
They will say give me a hug time and time again because I love having my arms around you no matter if I can feel your ribs or if my hands can't clasp together on the other side
You ask why?
Because you're beautiful
Lenny M May 2015
We All have Flaws,
Stubby nose,
Bushy Brows,
Crooked smile,
Whichever it maybe
But those are the types of things
That make us UNIQUE,
The details to our grand design,
"There is no one like Me"
Take pride in that,
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
To prejudge based off of one's appearance,
Now that is what you call **UGLY
Beautiful Souls everywhere you go
David Jul 2013
Stranded in a car,
Parking lot castaway,
Babylonian sunset,
A star sleeping on regret,
The cold street lights now casting spells,
Down upon a pale face with these eyes painted,
With their shadows

The rain soldiers are marching in,
They'll crown me with their arrows,
I am the queen of the orphans,
A city for a throne,
And heartless chest for a scepter,
It is rumored that there was a cool of the day,
But it is not found here,
If birds had songs then,
They choke and spit out cruel laughter now,
Therefore the gulls migrated to die on asphalt,
To collect the filth I leave upon the earth,
I have sticky fingers on me you see,
Attached to soggy gloves

The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,

I cannot sleep tonight,
The rats keep eating at my bed,
But feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits
,
The Commercialized Army is pressing in,
Following the systematic skein of procedure,
Knit the net,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Knit the net,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Knit the net



I shouldn't be here
                  Where can I find it?
I shouldn't be here
                  Where can I find it?
                                   Will I stop myself?
I shouldn't be here
                  Where can I find it?
                                    Will I stop myself?
                                                      *­Time moves too slow

I shouldn't be here,
                  Where can I find it?
                                    Will I stop myself?
                                                      Ti­me moves too slow
I shouldn't be-





                                                       ­                        And The Sun Goes



Down,
In,
My,
Brown,
Eyes,
Twilight fixation,
The orange star sleeps in the smog,
My mind in its fog,

Here comes the pale ghost eye,
Peaking through his veil,
Midnight fixation,
Staring down,
On my brown eye island

Where I washed ashore
Free Bird Dec 2015
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Money in the pocket of the biggest shareholder

Day by day, we grow older
Love is lost, hearts grow colder

So while you still can, you should hold her
Say what you feel, before you wish you'd told her

Don't stash your dreams away, in that folder
As you care less what they think, you'll get bolder

Listen to those, who need a shoulder
Let her live, don't try to mold her

Don't sell your soul, for something golder
crowbarius Jul 2012
Flora and Fauna, the sisters of Season
Of Spring and of Summer
Allow now our drummer
To drum out the beat
For the feet of the sisters
To glide and to creep
Like the encroaching sleep
Which may perch on your shoulder if we cannot keep you awake
And on the edge of your seat, sir.

Now the former, sweet Flora, will finger the flute
While the other continues to glide and to slide
Like a sequined Venetian harlequin bride;
And now Fauna will mimic the movements of bird and of beast
As she graces the work of our landscape artiste
And all is completely unfeasible
Completely lacks reason
We guarantee.

Presently
In the eye of the beholder
Sweet Flora seemingly draws from the aether a lyre
And with flourishing fingers she plucks from the heavens
A song of the seasons, a pagan ode to Pan!


Behold! No aid of hoops, no strings
The vestal-******-harlot sisters sing
Of beautiful Persephone
And with unseen damselfly wings
Ascend from mediocrity
All melody forgotten
All the drums create cacophony
And you will find serenity in chaotic monotony
Now let this climaxing crescendo banish all your sorrowing!

No more that light; no more that sacred realm
Life’s door was dappled gloam; now all is black.
A man of wax with saintly, hollow eyes
Devoid of sin, devoid of love and light
That golden room is lost – you can’t turn back.
Now love has lost its lustre - lust lost joy
And coy eyes turn to watch the empty man
Struck by eternal beauty, and condemned
To haunt the broken world of mortal men;
And shrilling wind caresses empty hand.
ryn Sep 2014
Poetry moves from within our souls,
It's emotions pouring out
Covering us in rhymes and flow,
Like rain from the clouds

Infinite letters, words and phrases
In various permutations we play
Collaboration between heart and mind
Breathed into these pieces that we lay


Touching lives with our written form
Healing with words, what's poetically true
Freedom of expression, thoughts and ideals
Crying out in ink, until our sadness is through

Similar in thoughts but meander through individual routes
We all sing the same but to different rhythm and tunes
Inscribe our innermost but to varying worthy causes
We all draw inspiration but from the same loyal moon


A different form of art, yet art none the same
It's in the eye of the beholder, so they say
Poetry is life drawn in pen, it's not an erasable game
It truly breathes life, looking forward to each new day

**We proudly fly our diverse flags
United under one banner
We revel in words of poetry
In the hopes they'd last forever
Deeply honoured by the fact that the amazing "The Girl Who Loved You" would even consider a collaboration with me! Such an experience! Thank you TGWLY for this opportunity! Awestruck!
John Stevens Aug 2012
The Canvas
(c)08-25-2012

A canvas sets on the edge of greatness and beauty, blank, waiting for the touch of the master’s hand. She takes charge of what is to be. Gentle strokes, broad strokes, strokes that caress the canvas… leaving the marks of imagination, transforming nothing into beauty. The image emerges revealing the thoughts and desires and power of the canvas. It is breath-taking to the beholder. She understands the difference between OK and great. Nothing will do but great. It must emulate the original. It must be the original! So it is with our canvas of life.

We start life as a blank canvas. Brush strokes are made by those around us as we begin to grow. Made by mom, dad, friend and strangers alike. All try to add their image to our canvas. An image of who they think we are. As we grow into the artist we strive to be, we accept or reject the strokes of others and create a portrait we strive to become.

Some strokes by others can leave an off color, covering who we really strive to be. A brush stroke that is not us can be covered by our touch, our color, our imagination of who we are, adding integrity to the texture and hue. Revealing an inner beauty as the artist of our life takes control, guiding our hand, adding the touches that transform the canvas from OK to great.

The Artist chooses the colors, the brushes from which she wants to define her life. The decisions are hers to make as she selects the shades of color, or even black and white, that will define her life. She paints a portrait of peace and joy, of self-less love for family and friends.. All else is unimportant. The things of past are covered. Today and tomorrow are forming a painting that will be great.

Letting the Master’s Hand guide our hand, we find freedom flowing freely onto and into our canvas. In doing His will in our life, we are set free. A freedom indescribable at times as we are lost to the distractions of the past. Caught up in the hope and love of today.

The Master guides our hand, willingly or even unwillingly at times in our artistic endeavor. As we learn to relax and give Him control of our hands, He reveals the beauty that is within us. It is great.

I have heard being an artist and painting described as being easy but living life as being difficult and unsure. Life can be described as a series of brush strokes, choices. Some can destroy the beauty intended for our canvas. Some strokes can create breath-taking beauty which radiates outward, inspiring the ones observing our portrait.

This was inspired by a young friend of mine, she left a few brush strokes on my life. They will not be painted over. They will be treasured, remembered for a long time to come.

When I look into a mirror, I want to see Jesus, the Creator of my portrait.
Amazing young lady.  Her paintings are truly works of art.
http://www.capturedmomentsartwork.com/
Cné Sep 2017
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This becomes more evident as we grow older. What we once may have thought was a work of art, now because of age has fallen apart. When we started out we might have looked like a Michelangelo, but in the end I fear that we shall all become Picasso's.

Written by James M Vines
James wrote this little rhyme for me. And I had to share!
Thank you, James!
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
~~
dedicated to Ashleigh Riddle,
who knows that forwards and backwards can both be the right way



<>
Homework assignments, please pass them in!

Mmmm ok who didn't submit?

Stand up please!

Ah Mr. LIPSTADT, I should have known!
No poem?

Oh yes sir, I have a poem, even three!

But the dog et them, so if you want, I'll
Recite them please?

{general laughing and snorting in the classroom}

Oh really, Mr. Lipstadt,
why don't you come up to the front
And share with us but one of,
(big sneer on teach's face)
Your creativity!

Shuffle up to Buffalo, where hysteria breaks out,
For now the world is informed that I am wearing
One black and one brown shoe,
The din is attracting the notice of the class
next door, room 402.

Order! Order! Settle down.

Ok let us hear what you dint write!
(Dint, oh boy)

The Poem (the one the dog et):

A special day this quiet Tuesday,
For when I awoke, looked outside,
I saw what I saw,  quickly realized,
That this was the day to
break the norms.

Why must I wear two shoes of similar hues?
My can't my hair be color enhanced by the pink of you!

You just noticed my shirt and pants are  on backwards?
Perception in the eye of the beholder,
Beholder that be me, because,
Today, behold!
It is break the norms day!

Moon in the sky morning,
It knows the way, its place
When gravity, cycles, temporarily shelved,
On the break the norms day

Kissed my mom before I left for school,
My dad, my brother, my sis, too whoo hoo,
** **, you shoulda seen their faces,
When I sauntered out the door,
Humming, C'mon baby light my fire

The crossing guard gave me my usual,
A whistling hello,
Today, I whistled back,
The whistle of
Hey babe, looking good,
She blushed so hard,
The drivers thot the light was
Stuck on red!

This is how I spent my morn,
On the day of breaking the norms!


But even on break the norm day,
Somethings are constant, forever,
For instance, the path to the
School office, La Principal, unchanging,
Her grimaced visor in place,
Till she closes the door.

Then she says tell me honey child,
One of my unusual ones,
What trespasses have you committed today?

Well, the dog et my poetry,
But knew it well and true,
Offered to recite, not a riot incite,
May I please say one for you?

She said:
I know for a fact that you don't have
A dog, but nonetheless,
Sing to me, child,
Give me words
That justify
Giving most of
My lifetime to
Children.

So I gave her a listening
Of one I writ the week before, called,
"He taught them well."

She wept.
Ok, teary-eyed glistening,
She said, as punishment for class disrupting,
You will be suspended for the rest of the day,
You will have spend the rest of this diurnal,
Sitting next to me, thus,
We will break one more norm, together....

---------------------
For Helen, "I have so many partial poems I'm thinking of just mashing them together and maybe the dog will eat them..."
In all poems, I swear there is always a kernel of
Truth.

HE TAUGHT THEM WELL
<>
He cared enough,
So much so to
reason with them.
Never diminishing their simplest prose,
Even if it rhymed with rose....

He loved them in his way,
A teacher, once his student,
This year, then forever.

Their woes he read,
In every submission,
No threat treated idly,
He knew but one grade,
Caring.

One rule strictly observed,
No touching,
In this sad age, a crime without
Any absolution.

Then came a day.
School arrived, pre-bell by ten minuets,
His customary arrival time.

This day different.

The long corridor to the classroom entree,
Lined like Noah's ark, two by two,
On each side,
His students past and present aligned,
They would not let him pass,
Till he hugged each and everyone.

Thus, they taught him well the meaning of
Just rewards,
For they were his,
Yes, they were his,
Not for the taking,
But for the giving.

His subject,
of course,

Creative writing!
Cyrus Agons Jun 2014
Surfing across the glaze of light
Multiverse into one, this universe shines bright
Condensed energy upon my sight
Mystery upon this 'life'
All is multiverse stitched into one universe
All universes stitched upon each other
Tension upon layer and layers
Heaven, Hell, reincarnation, all are bound by makers
One moves upon a series of 'matter' or vibrations after the shell is removed or gained
However rather low, high, negative, or positive energy, all is remained
Logic
A mere barrier designed and captivated by a mind
Grasping your vision, your perception, your multiverse
Either a hinder or power surge
Forming pieces of ones quilt to converge
A poisonous psychedelic
The rarity of an ancient relic
It is yours, whatever it may be
Hold close, as it is all you may have
As the 'universe' of the multiverse leans and meets according to so
Then raving within your conscious, you see a brighter glow
You pursue, you make the most
Using the now gleam to move upon the multiverse you hope to have
Doing all in reality in order to keep the spark alive
What seems to be drab
What seems to strive
All according to the beholder
We keep these lights seemingly closer
Whatever they maybe
Whomever they maybe
What has never begun to start will never be over
Lost Soul Jun 2014
while YOU'RE looking into the stars
I'm admiring your PERFECTION
IN the dark you're my light
MY eyes adjust to you
cause beauty is in the EYES of the beholder
Menelik Mar 2016
We've grown and we're growing.

Don't know where we're going.

My feelings are showing.

I'm flying. I'm floating.



The ocean is cold,

And i'm not losing hope.

I'm anchored to you,

Ain't no rocking this boat.



You see it approaching.

I'm watching you notice.

We both saw this coming.

Binocular focus.



Through hot and through cold.

Polar or solar.

Girl I see your beauty.

And I'm the beholder.

<3
This was a real text message that I sent to someone special.
Kimmy Nov 2020
I didn't write this one. Its actually part of spoken poetry lyrics .. im sharing it because I feel like start to finish I can relate to every word, every feeling.  I consider myself the girl behind the mask



The girl behind the mask doesnt understand the beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, and it doesnt matter how many times I have told her she still relies on the opinions of people of who dont realize that what they see as shy is in fact the feeling of lonley,
The feeling of whatever she does Is not quite good enough, the feeling of constantly disappointing the people closest who only want to see her happy,
But instead they have to watch the detoeratation and can do nothing.  They hope and pray that one day the girl behind the mask will finally say with content and honesty to herself "IM HAPPY "
I can put these feelings of no self worth on the shelf and live on, build up my life and repair myself from the past, 
And can finally say to myself that at last " IVE DONE IT"

I've beat the demons inside my soul, the demons that made my thoughts and life cold,
The ones that made me contemplate my life, my confidence,  my existence and my future,  made me feel hurt that cant be fixed with a suture,

The girl behind the mask doesnt see that her strength shines so much brighter, you see the girl behind the mask doesnt know what she is capable of, it's as if how blind to how happy she makes everyone, she puts a smile on a face of the person feeling down, shes blind to the fact that she can turn a sad day around, and make people smile from ear to ear,
But when she takes off the mask she's filled with nothing but fear,  fear of what the next day brings her, as if she's waiting for her sentence and there's nothing but rumours being spread around about her.

The girl behind the masks is the definition of beauty , the meaning of strength, she needs to know thats its the duty, of everyone who cares to help in the fight, to make her realize that her life is her life, to understand that there is nothing to be afraid of, she has family and friends that will show  depression what they are made of,


The girl behind the mask needs to lift her head up and open her eyes and realize  that she'll never be alone and as much as she may feel it, the pain she is feeling now.... happiness will heal it


So be strong and proud of the person you are because with strength and power the end of these feeling isn't far, and you can smile,dance, and sing  live thr life that u were deprived from, the life you have not yet felt..  the life u lived contemplating overdose or the rope. The feeling of eating was hell, the life u lived where everything goes wrong you will be free from all the anxiety and pain

Look at yourself in the mirror and  say these words to your self, "why  am I letting this control me, look at your beauty. As hard as it seems you need to smile.  Its your duty,  then see your pain as a emotional journey, 

Remember certainly there is a destination waiting for u to be happy at last..  but please be strong stay strong the girl behind the mask
Sooken poetry lyrics.
Pass by citizen
don't look left or right
Keep those drip dry eyes straight ahead
A tree? Chop it down- it's a danger
to lightning!
Pansies calling for water,
Let 'em die- queer *******-
Seek comfort in the scarlet, labour
saving plastic rose
Fresh with the frangrance of Daz!
Sunday! Pray citizen;
Pray no rain will fall
On your newly polished
Four wheeled
God

Envoi

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Get it out with Optrex
A Lopez Apr 2016
My beauty is in
The eye
Of the beholder-
Don't mean man's
Beholder\
Dios\
My beholder
The one who gives
The beauty to
Behold.
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

I, the goddess of love & beauty, will
Make sure to the fullest that no one can ****
The charming Adonis who makes me feel
Great beyond any ****** that’s real

Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

I, as the discoverer of this beautiful creature so rare
Is the first beholder of his countenance so fair
It is I who granted him the first unmatched care
The kind of caress he will acquire only in my lair

Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

His refuge in me never has the stench of death
It’s just like everyday he experiences rebirth
‘Coz there I can render him the greatest of health
Beauty & youth of flesh beyond any mirth

Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

Be vigilant towards the welfare of Adonis, my delight
His bulging muscles are proofs of his radiant might
So alluring to any mortal & immortal sight
No one can also equal his handsome face so bright

Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

That beauty of his can only be cherished
In my realm where beauty never goes blemished
The place that all mortals have ever wished
There the bright sun will keep his body nourished

Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!

Adonis’ beauty is not fit for the home of the dead
He is so vibrant from foot to head
Remove him from Hades! To my haven, instead!
There he will be nourished by life-giving bread!

-02/10/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection
My Poem No. 333
Lucy Tonic Jul 2012
App
They have an app for everything
Apply this apple application vigorously
I need an app for this confusion
Where’re all the apps for my delusions
Hallucinations seem pretty nice
But I rather control them with an app
Delirium is no friend of mine
They control it with an app
All of these buttons produce bad business
You’re the ones who push them, I’m the witness
They take their pictures with an app
Photoshop the eye of the beholder
It’s the witching hour
They shout it from the watchtower
They climb up and down the ladder
They train the cruelest adders
With or without an app
Tatiana Cody Oct 2010
Hands shaking as they clumsily undo
Buttons, zippers, clasps
Articles of clothing discarded

Every word that passes between us
Hangs suspended in the air
Like dust motes
Only larger, more distinct
Each facet perfectly discernible
By its own beholder's eye

This was wrong
I could feel it
As my synapses fired
Unconsciously guiding my hands down his back
Arching mine

It feels wrong
But mostly it feels
So
right
Now.
A true story.
Tyler Drapeau Nov 2011
The purest sense of understanding that allows two hearts to move beyond the borders of the conscious, thinking mind.

Without the thoughts that twist the words, that distort perception; what is conveyed, is... is... unconditional acceptance and love. In this simple concept we find solace, we find connection, we reach the precipice of and stare in awe at the beauty of the humane soul. Everything seems perfect.

 

By this perfection, given face value, we draw the ever permanent distinction between what what is black and what is white; what is wrong and what is right; what is virtue and what is moral travesty. For inherent to humanity is the eagerness, bias  and extremity with which we represent the good and evil of this world. For who would believe that the "caretaker", wrought of good intentions, could be soiled in his actions?

 

The caretaker that empathizes with the troubled or broken soul is a testament to the honesty of a human heart; but he who enables others with his empathy becomes not the caretaker, but the "jailer". Through his conviction to ALWAYS be there, to sooth the hurts, to understand the pains and to maintain control... by those actions, he belittles them. The relief of empathy is only temporary. Empathy does not enact change, it is mere salve and bandage, it quells the aches for but a moment. And when they return, in their woes, the service of the empathizer becomes requirement.

 

For though empathy may be needed, with the power to forge a bond of deep understanding, its indiscriminate use only stunts. Personal growth, it is found by many paths in this world. We must grow and mature; let others do the same. Life is a journey with many opportunities but also many hardships, we are defined by these. If we are stunted by the empathy of others, in their quest to protect us, we will never grow, never achieve that which is greater, and never leave our "prison".

 

Virtue or vice... once again in the hands of the beholder.

— The End —