"blemish" poems
You seeing me rapping will never happen
Before that I’ll start cappin
Walk off like nothing happened
Since I’ve mastered this art of war
I tend to take things too far
Don’t give a **** who you think you are
Your rap handle doesn’t exist anymore
My rhythms galore, your rhythms manure
Best left in a bag
On your steps
At your front door
Hottest your rap crap will ever get
I’m so polished this is a blemish not a scrimmage
I treat you little *******
Like a teacher’s pet
Up against a Vietnam war vet
Giving you your first shoots
Flipping the script
Double barrel twelve gauge extended clip
Special grip pressed against your lip
Having a hard time talking ****
A pistol whip left your tooth chipped
Fake rappers rapping hard
No street creed; they ain’t legit
This wack imitation ****
Got me ****** off
Don’t get me started
you rip offs should get lost at all cost
dealing with a real boss I can handle a loss
Testing me lyrically, you must be previously ********
Now you are dearly departed
I’m styling on you I’m wilding
Bloodline of Goliath
So go ahead start a riot
With my mic on autopilot
You can get chewed like trident
Eating wack MC’s
essential part of my diet
this ain’t even a battle verse
it’s a gift and a curse
running its course
on my high horse
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
I cannot wait for that someone,
those little sprinkles of moments where I can tell him about the scar on the bottom of my left foot.
The crinkled and creased edges of my heart gently tugged out,
finally he can see the dinky mark on my right knee.
Slowly, the blemish on my lower back can meet his eyes.
Sure, my cheeks will be crimson,
but,
hey, I found Brave hiding,
it is peek-a-booing at me,
now to
you,
sweets.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
In front of the mirror doing my hair,
It’s all in the prep work, don’t despair,
Soon be time for the big event,
all this grooming is time well spent,
walk like a robot, keep a straight face,
don’t want a single hair out of place,
grab the phone, yes this is the spot,
set it all up for the perfect shot,
try to look natural, find the right pose,
hide the blemish that’s on my nose,
impossible angles, arm muscles ache,
the phone in my hand is starting to shake,
follow the light, keep stumbling back,
I think I’m having a panic attack,
all this stress is really no fun,
but a click of the button and the deed is done !
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.
Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.
You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground
waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish
in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
To lie or not to lie - that is the question:
Whether 'tis better to keep the truth
Shutting the light in the dark,
Or to bring upon pain or pleasure
Why, by bringing truth, gain unwanted reaction. To lie, deceit -
No more - and by secret to say what we want to say
The will of truth and lie
That flows from lips - 'tis an infection
One craved by all. To lie, deceit -
Deceit, perhaps too much. Ay, there's the problem.
For in that deceit of truth what pathologic lieing may come.
When we have gained such filthy pleasure from this lie,
Must force us thought. That's the reality
That makes chaos of such pleasure.
For who really wants to hear or speak an ugly truth,
The lover's love gone, the child's art trash,
The woman's ugly face, the man's unattractive body,
The co-worker's stench, and the embarrassing blemish
That gives opportunity for lie,
When they themselves would appreciate
Why give them heart ache? Who would give them truth,
To give them hurt,
But the chance they would enjoy the truth,
The unknown glee from fate's unlucky victims
For the victim's mind confuses the liar
And makes the liar want to speak truth
And to see that reaction instead.
Thus turning pathologic lieing into suthe saying,
And thus the addicting infection
Is cured with the disease of truth,
And infection seems less appealing
With this regard the lies soon stop
And lose what effect they once had.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
I swore that I knew you
just like the back of my hand
every blemish, every freckle,
every scar, was you
But now
My blemishes begin to even out
My freckles, rearranging themselves
And any old scars are fading.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Marvelous
A beauty to Be had
His body with its chiseled curves His large hands
As I gazed upon him
I noticed his perfect form
And his very chiseled abs
Not a blemish to be had
As I touched his pale white body
So smooth
Almost soft to be exact
His hair so full and curls
A plenty
Who is this beautiful man
With perfect form
A work of art to be adored
Timeless in his form.
His name is
David.
By Michael Angelo.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
Pretty pretty pretty
But you remain the same
As the childish and petty
To whom living is a game
Ugly ugly ugly
Not a blemish in sight
Because the pretty ones bug me
What counts is inside
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Well, she looks like a witch,
Her pointed nose does twitch.
As she frowns upon the grocery list,
Then scrunches in a timely twist.
Bidding her straw broom,
Which she doth groom.
Hovers away into the gloom,
Over a pond she doth loom.
To frogs, rats, snakes and slime,
Quoth she, "All in good time!!"
Soon they'll be no room,
For the impending doom.
Her cauldron happily hissing,
As she adds to the seething,
Her black cat begins meowing,
After the rats, he begins running.
Slowly cooling the putrid portion,
She applies the lovely lotion.
The moles, warts and silver hair,
Disappear into thin air.
Her velvet apparel now lace,
Not a blemish does one trace.
Fondling her silky Siamese,
She heads home with ease.
To the little candy castle,
Awaiting Hansel and Gretel.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
Dear America,
How are you ?
I must ask what do you see as beauty . For I am a young black women who just want to be beautiful in your eyes and so I ask what must I become to be such in yours. Must I buy the hair of foreigners and wear it as my own since I know my natural hair and rough texture to distasteful for your eyes. I have become too ashamed of my appearance therefore please tell me what I must do to be beautiful. I know that my thick thighs and curves are not acceptable. I eat less and run more but I can't seem to quite reach the image displayed in the magazines. My buttocks are quite small and I do not have the means to pay for implantations but I want to be beautiful so I must find a way, right? Oh America my biggest blemish is my dark skin. I search for bleaching products since lighter skin women are superior and I must be part of the hierarchy of beauty. My skin contains this substance called melanin that I just can't seem to get rid of but of course I won't disappoint you I will find a way to become the right complexion. America I truly do want to be beautiful in your eyes and will do what is necessary. I want men to find me appealing, I want my fellow women to envy my beauty, and most of all I want to be what you view beautiful. ..I have foreign hair now no more of that rough natural hair, my skin is much lighter and I am a size zero now with a large buttocks. I do not recognize myself in the mirror but why does that matter because you think I'm beautiful now, right America?
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 4:10 AM UTC
I know you don't do well in the cold or in the rain;
You scramble around trying to save your hair
and you jabber nonsensically in the cutest way,
you shiver and you mumble and your hands and nose go cold.
But that's just a temporary, mundane blemish
on the beautiful temple that is your body,
one that a jacket can guard from, or a towel can wipe off.
But your heart, your fortress of a heart, is what I worry about.
I know it hurts too, I know all too well that it does.
I know that sometimes, you sit in a sea of blankets and warmth,
but your heart still aches with a horrible chill.
I know that although you may be sheltered,
it sometimes feels like your heart is stranded in a downpour
and your fortress cracks sometimes.
I don't know how to tell you or show you that
I will stand in a hurricane to hold an umbrella over your heart,
I will build you a home and a hearth to warm your bones,
when all you feel is broken and numb
I will hold you and kiss you until
all of your beautiful puzzle pieces are put back together.
So don't mind the rain, sweetheart.
I'll always be
an umbrella for your heart.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
Being wounded deep,
it may leave a blemish
that serves as a reminder
for the times of vulnerability.
*Have you ever wondered why
there’s hardly any remnant left
to remind you of happiness?*
Scars may have been a proof of sadness.
For some, it’s a prompt of pain.
Remember this:
**Your happiness does not need any scarring
but it will always be embedded in your memory.**
Your happiness is intangible
yet it brings a sensation
that can be felt through the heart.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
You look in the mirror and see every flaw
on you face,
Then hold your head down for every little
blemish, for all of your minute imperfections,
And that is all that you see, all you can
think about when you watch people's eyes on you.
But we are our own worst critic,
and how pessimistic it is
That we can only look at ourselves
and see our worst.
If you haven't noticed, though, you've
never truly looked at yourself.
You've only ever seen your reflection,
a mere image staring back at you.
The truth of the matter is that you'll
never be able to see yourself, only your reflection,
Something that can never fully capture you
because a picture is only worth a thousand words.
You are worth at least a million.
So maybe you should stop looking
at yourself in the mirror
And start seeing yourself through my eyes,
then you will see that
You are beautiful.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
How can I reach the unreachable..
teach the unteachable who's comprehension is unbelieveable
But the fact is unbelief is more than lack of knowledge..
Cause the truth is even Satan knows who God is..
Is it blindness...
truth on deaf ears..
the embracing of silence..
should there be surpises ..
when behind your eyelids enter a random act of violence..
A vision of darkness ..there's no light that why the pupils dilate the use of the iris..
But when use to darkness and the lights hits one close their eyelids..
I.e. Christ the truth the way the light..
Being unsaved is like living in the womb..
Darkness equivalent to that of a tomb..
Flashes of light is like labor contractions..
The unknown conviction hinting..
Considered a distraction..
Pushed out now watch the eyes reaction..
To the light cause from darkness there's a detachment..
If given a chance a adjustment happens..
An embracement of the light..
A rebirth Christ in action.
How can i reach the unreachable..teach the unteachable ..
With a script the director unknown Its more than the shout of action..
Living life like a movie unaware that the villains not acting..
Now could u imagine..
A movie set full of madness..
All the cast dead like really dead from a stabbing..
No equalizer the villain the only one left standing..
You may say excuse me..
Life is not a movie.
Truly
But a witness not performing there duty..is bystander..
No innocence exist...
No bliss in ignorance...
.Cause we all birth into sin.
So many questions with wrong answers given like the truth don't exist....
How can I reach the unreachable
teach the unteachable
who I tell to this body of Christ they should enlist
But when a pass is given and the shot is missed..
It negates the assist..
A reason for the lost of the game..
The thought of a lost soul has me ******
I'm the point guard I help the scorer sustain..
Chris Paul with rock which is the gospel..
Passing the truth like Paul the apostle ..
Too many people out for a win like Christ didn't settle the score...
Adam severed the relationship but Christ rebuilt the rapport...
I am trying to reach and teach but there's no trust any more...
Pointing u in the direction of accepting the Lord..,
Embrace the word of God that double edge sword..
Them cuts is conviction..
The sword swinging is What it means to be a witness..
Led by the spirit A Christian
Yes we are made in Gods image..
Trying to reach every soul because the wins and losses count..
Life is not a scrimmage..
How can one soul have a blemish..
Only dirt that can touch the soul is the ***** hands of sinning..
How can I reach the unreachable teach the unteachable..Who mistakes knowledge for ignorance...
And reject truth because arrogance..
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
Let us paint our canvasses on WOMEN!!
Curious I stand to unravel your perception of a woman
Would you weigh her as a piece of wonder or a gruffly aggressive thunder?
She is extraordinary, gorgeously efficient, solely independent!
The love she embraces is wider than the infinite heaven and deeper than the fathomless sea.
The shallow world with its profound hypocrisy,
Banters with a judgemental frown.
The world has changed, and so has she.
It has known the beautiful rose, tarnished by its prickly thorns,
Only the delicate rose, the world, with its abysmal critics, abides by to adorn.
She knows her paths, truly determined to achieve her goals,
Her patience deserves a salute, her tremendous sacrifice only to satisfy our souls.
Dare never to shred the lovely red petals, not knowing her darings!
For also the thorns in her are perilous, to blemish a wound till your last.
With her chin up and a gaze so ferocious, ocean of wisdom she is vast.
She rises, she grows, taking a free flight, venturing to claim new heights,
She is benevolent, a ray of sanguine sunshine to your forlorn nights.
Walking proud, believing in who she is, glimmering like a star!
Born strong she is, refuses to be judged by her scars.
She is the teller of her tale, over fears and worries she will prevail.
A miracle of God, with a sweet lingering fragrance she leaves a trail,
Of patience, commitment, empathy, and unfaltering fortitude !!
by ~Mihika Rohatgi
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:50 PM UTC
I’m running in the darkness,
Running from myself;
I’ve been running for so long now,
Myself is someone else.
Despair had my heart in pieces,
I wanted to run and hide,
But I couldn’t run away from myself
And escape all the voices inside
I’m lost without Your justice,
I’m sick without Your peace.
I’m dying without Your loving touch,
And I’m chained without Your key.
*When I’ve lost my way
You’ve never lost me.
When I’m frozen in the pain
You’ve never lost me.*
I will fail at everything I try to do,
‘Cause I’m nothing without You.
I only know one thing is true:
When I’ve lost my way and I’m afraid,
You’ve never lost me.
*When I’ve lost my way
You’ve never lost me.
When I’m frozen in the pain
You’ve never lost me.*
Secure in my possessions,
I was trying to save myself;
Discovering my weakness,
Myself was all that was left.
I covered every blemish,
Abandoned all my dreams;
Maybe if I lost myself,
I wouldn’t want to scream.
*When I’ve lost my way
You’ve never lost me.
When I’m frozen in the pain
You’ve never lost me.*
I will fail at everything I try to do,
‘Cause I’m nothing without You.
I only know one thing is true:
When I’ve lost my way and I’m afraid,
You’ve never lost me.
*When I’ve lost my way
You’ve never lost me.
When I’m frozen in the pain
You’ve never lost me.*
Can You take this mess of me?
Can I forget all I knew?
Can You build me up again?
Can I just belong to you?
*You’ve never lost me, You’ve never lost me
(You’ve ne-ver lost me)
You’ve never lost me, You’ve never lost me
(You’ve ne-ver lost me)*
I will fail at everything I try to do,
‘Cause I’m nothing without You.
I only know one thing is true:
When I’ve lost my way and I’m afraid,
You’ve never lost me.
*When I’ve lost my way
You’ve never lost me.
When I’m frozen in the pain
You’ve never lost me.*
When I’ve lost my way (You’ve ne-ver lost me) (I'm lost without you)
You’ve never lost me. (I'm lost without you)
When I’m frozen in the pain (You’ve ne-ver lost me) (I'm lost without you)
You’ve never lost me. (I'm lost without you)
When I’ve lost my way (You’ve ne-ver lost me) (I'm lost without you)
You’ve never lost me. (I'm lost without you)
When I’m frozen in the pain (You’ve ne-ver lost me) (I'm lost without you)
You’ve never lost me. (I'm lost without you)
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
For answering my call, despite not being free
For staying up late, giving up on your sleep,
For listening to my stories, not batting an eyelid
For singing to me, as I'd welcome my dreams!
For how you'd hold me close amidst friends, and beam
For how you've thanked every waiter who has served us a meal
For that first kiss you planted on my forehead in glee
For wiping my tear which trickled down, after some movie!
For noticing the pimple that caused a blemish on my cheeks -
And yet making me believe that I was still queen!
For how when you hug me and make me daydream
For how your eyes still look at me and brightly gleam!
For the silly misunderstandings on that Valentine's eve,
For the times you forgave and the mistakes you let be -
For respecting my choices and being with me
For the happiness you brought in, as agonies were forced to leave!
For thinking beyond the barriers of caste and creed -
For the patience shown as I kept testing if you would ever flee,
For bringing back faith and offering a love - in which I could believe
For teaching me that as we give back, more in abundance we receive!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:39 AM UTC
1.I love my scars, they tell stories of survival, give life to my soul, remind me I am here for a reason, they tell me everything other people let me forget
2.I love my curves, each mountain and valley residing on my sides take pains to protrude and remind me I am soft, delicate, I deserve to be handled with care, I am a woman.
3.I love my taste buds. So what if a steak has 3 million more calories than skinny girl’s bite of lettuce. I am going to eat it anyways and I will be proud, and yes, I will moan, because why, my self worth is not contingent on my jean size
4.I love my laugh. There’s something liberating about your belly shaking until it hurts, your body exploding with joy, giving another human being pleasure with just the touch of your voice.
5.I love that I’m beautiful, something you can’t touch, my glamour goes beyond my blemished skin. I am more than the curves surrounding my center, I am **** I am brave; I am smart. I am fearless wrapped up into 5 feet of glee. You. Cannot. Touch. Me,
6.I love that I’m honest. There’s something refreshing in saying, **** off, you weren’t good for me anyways
7.I love that I’m faithful. Faithful to myself, my dreams, my ambitions. I am more than a man’s lover, I will live my life worthy to the calling I have received, regardless of what price you have placed on me
8.I love that I believe, trust in first loves, don’t doubt passion; it was sincere in the moment, but as that moment collapsed, outstayed its welcome, I believed I was more, and I will be ok, and one day, 10 years down the line, that same moment will come tapping on my door, requesting to visit an old friend
9.I guess in all I love myself, each and every blemish and bruise, every scar I’ve been given. I was not created for your pleasure, but for His glory, I only require myself to wear that badge proudly
10.I love that I am who I am. loud, flamboyant, I am not afraid to speak my mind, which is why, I’m standing here, calling you to action. Take a chance: love yourself.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
THERE is a queen in China, or maybe it's in Spain,
And birthdays and holidays such praises can be heard
Of her unblemished lineaments, a whiteness with no
stain,
That she might be that sprightly girl trodden by a
bird;
And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing woma-
kind,
Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay
And smooth out stain and blemish with the elegance
of his mind:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
The young men every night applaud their Gaby's
laughing eye,
And Ruth St. Denis had more charm although she had
poor luck;
From nineteen hundred nine or ten, Pavlova's had the
cry
And there's a player in the States who gathers up her
cloak
And flings herself out of the room when Juliet would
be bride
With all a woman's passion, a child's imperious way,
And there are -- but no matter if there are scores beside:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
There's Margaret and Marjorie and Dorothy and Nan,
A Daphne and a Mary who live in privacy;
One's had her fill of lovers, another's had but one,
Another boasts, "I pick and choose and have but two
or three.'
If head and limb have beauty and the instep's high and
light
They can spread out what sail they please for all I have
to say,
Be but the breakers of men's hearts or engines of
delight:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
There'll be that crowd, that barbarous crowd, through
all the centuries,
And who can say but some young belle may walk and
talk men wild
Who is my beauty's equal, though that my heart denies,
But not the exact likeness, the simplicity of a child,
And that proud look as though she had gazed into the
burning sun,
And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray.
I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God's will
be done:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
3.9k
tropical breeze waves washed upon a
soothsayer sand beach whispering love poems between each sigh
seagull clouds baying from above
lustrous sunshine massaging with temperate beams
beneath the waves, turtles twist in tubular turnabouts
bright coral and jaded fish teem in the reef
shimmering sunshine shining through waves
casting shadows and light amongst an oceanic spectrum
we flit through the ocean as foreigners and locals
tiny air bubbles pressing from our lips
unlike the denizens filtering through the reef
we press up to the surface and break through for breath
exiting the ocean of life, we wash upon the shore
driftboards sewn together in matrimony
our clam shelled hands interwoven in the fabric of our souls
sand pressed between to make a glistening pearl
i sit up while you lay down on our thin towels
falling asleep with an upward curve on your lips
i trace my finger down your back like pencil to paper
drawing each crevice, perfection, and blemish
on the landscape of your body
a faint breeze ghosts through the swaying palm trees
dolphins nonchalantly diving through the air and ocean
***** scuttling along the precipice of the sea and sand
waves washing the crooked edges of stones
amongst this equilibrium we are infinite
soaking up this portrait life like a sea sponge
in these moments we are infinite
moments we imagined we had
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
Love has no place here in a world doused in shades of grey.
No warmth comes with winter sunshine; it's been chilled by the December Solstice winds.
The days have lost meaning within a destructive Earth.
Forever lost is the bliss they once knew.
Immortals turn their cheek in shame that no one else feels in themselves.
The apocalypse is upon a place once so promising.
How could they forget the beauty of what they had?
Why must they lust for more, to tear the world asunder?
Cast the world into an illusionist's fire!
Burn this blemish from what used to be a perfect canvas.
Paint them anew, begin again!
Exile the self made evil, the hatred.
Create with vibrant colors for a new being.
Bring about the miracle that they can survive.
They could never do it alone.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
You’re my favorite pair of sunglasses;
White rims, rose-colored lenses.
Try you on, and the world just looks better for a while.
The muddy construction sites, this massive concrete jungle,
The blemish on my chin.
Each piece of trash on the sidewalk has a story.
Wandering strangers don’t seem strange;
Everything, and everyone, seems deliberate.
No distance seems too great to run,
No weight too heavy
To be lifted.
Sappy acoustic love songs sound
Like life’s most epic
Anthems,
In my car as I’m driving.
It’s the most beautiful delirium;
Every sight seen is a portrait,
Every word heard is a song.
Though at the close the day,
That rose light will dwindle on the rims of my lenses,
Turning the soft shade over my eyes to rigid shadow,
So that then nothing at all can be seen,
And all that is heard is hollow ambiance.
With this I shed my glasses,
To look upon an ordinary world,
Until the next sunrise, when I will undoubtedly don you again.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
If you give me long enough
I could paint a vivid portrait of myself
with every blemish and pore behind a brush,
and hush the voices that would criticize
unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants
put on my bedazzled pants
let the local singles know I'm a dancer
just a beating heart away
From being another square upon a lattice
a writhing mass of hair gel
and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status
Imma walk the line between
a marble arch eclipsing the sun
over an angel statue kneeling in prayer
and a black leather boot clad
bad *** with bad habits
but he's so cool he doesn't care
Look at him go
all on his own
with only a thousand or so, little paintings
that are equally as photo shopped or filtered
just floating around waiting to see the show
and letting other people know they liked it
or not
What a spectacle destined
to leave us senseless and restless
what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses
to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us
and think "I should go with clever with glasses."
What a brutal twist of civilized life
to have an AI made for driving my car
so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic
THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife
Laura something or something
I'm so social
What a medium,
Exchanging ideas,
and hunting body heat from out of the ether,
to have the pleasing distortion
of the speakers
drowning out all the wearisome noise
of our contortions
"You gotta learn to love yourself"
She says, and posts another photo
buried somewhere under 60 layers
of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings
Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things
-
You don't ever need to change girl,
there ain't anything, in this world
That I wouldn't do, to be with you.
And the Brief exchanges we had,
didn't reveal any red flags,
that I am willing to skip on *** over.
So somewhere down the line,
when the filters start to fade,
we'll just kick that can down the road,
and neither of us will change.
And the picture's that we painted of our Love
will degrade.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
I am from first impressions as shaky feet grip unstable rock. The path winds endlessly in front of you with unsure direction. Moss devours the cool, ancient limestone. A satisfying crunch echos with each determined footstep over dried and fallen leaves. Sometimes not knowing where you are headed leads to the best destinations.
I am from beauty everywhere. For what is not beautiful in it’s own dilapidated way? Certainly the sun, setting over silent waters in a rainbow of peaches and soft yellows, is astonishing. But is not the misshapen tree, aged and withered with time, as pleasing to the eyes? Time has beaten and bruised it, and it still stands proudly, bearing every single perfect imperfection, for the world to see.
I am from adventure. Standing somewhere that no one has stood. Seeing something that no one has seen. Living something that no one, not a single person, has lived before you.
I am from a rocky cliff face. With water slowly deteriorating nature’s well-seen splendor. It seems that too many have made their way into the daunting dark cave, squealing with childish delight as they fly off the unsteady ledges. Yet every time you see it, it manages to feel like you are the first one who has ever set foot in that cool sea-cave.
I am from blend out, not in.
I am from water and time carved boulders. Not one the same as the next. Beaten by the endless undulating waves from an ever-full lake. Each one has a story a few million years long. Each fracture, crack, hole, scratch and blemish is just another page to a book still being written.
I am from what is the difference between ordinary and extraordinary? That little extra.
I am from that little extra.
I am from a warm spring night. Just listen. Can you hear it? Every lonely frog croaking, every peanut guzzling blue jay singing, every leaf dancing in the tender breeze has a story. Every footstep, every tree, every rock, every grain of sand, every soft wind has a story.
I am from I never want to put down this book.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
Laughter is like makeup
Proper use
Enables youth and joy
But just as simply
Great amounts
Cover sights for no one's eyes
Concealing a blemish
Disguising deep despair
Fake fools shall be found out
As I have already failed
Makeup run dry
Laughter deemed empty
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC