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Arcassin B Sep 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

in the night time,
Until I align in the night time,
They'll never be another life time,
Where me and you once had,
But I come alive in the night time,
Its never completely staged in the
Night time,
Days where I would spend all of
My time,
With you,
No other pleasure could match,
Until I change in the night time,
Until I make a mends in the night time,
And every single day the light will pass,
Nothing ever last,
But the flowers in my garden do,
I see stars,
Is this kidding to you.
Drugs lll
Keith W Fletcher May 2016
Just had a long talk
With someone I can't really say
I always get along with
To be perfectly honest
I really didn't like what I heard
As some of my beliefs turned myth
I guess it goes both ways
As I'm sure I failed the test
As to just where arrogance really ends
So as  we rolled and punched
Dancing. around creating a show
Knowing a cut too deep is a wound that never mends

So I realized  That I am a chicken
The Cowardly Lion without a heart
as time after time I will fail
As  time and opportunity meet
A greeting card has more honor
Then the blank sheets of paper left along the trail
That I tried to fold into some amazing origami

I can picture but can't produce
Confident that I really am trying to
Become  as honest as I say I am
That was
Until the conversation I just had
I came away knowing
That  I'm a liar
The chicken-hearted
Cheater of the dear departed
Now back-stepping
As if to get back where it all started

But there's no do-overs
No wishing wishes would come true
No one to blame but the you
That you've unlisted
No one in the mirror except the you
That you've insisted
Isn't you
Saying that there are things in life you say
And there are things you never say
Those things you want to say.  
Or the things you need to say  
Then allowing ourselves to put them away
For another day
It's those things we have to say ...must say
That can take part of our humanity away.
So you see.....
..... I am a coward....
a chicken hearted
Soon to be discarded
Bag of desiccated skin and bones
Because I had time to do the right thing but instead I let it pass ... let it pass
So I wish I had never had that talk  
So I'm about to stop and move away
From this conversation
That I've been having with myself
I don't really care what I have to say
Okay I lied I do care ..
.And I was right when I said
I had things I need to share
Need to say ......and need to say....
Because if I wait.... if I.... hesitate
To tell those that I love
Exactly how I feel
At first the words may seem a bit unrealistic
But the pains would be just way too real way way way too real
Steph Dionisio Jul 2015
The strings
the way I pluck it
gives extra strength
to my soul.
The notes
I try to read
drives my thirst
The lyrics
I write in a paper
expresses every single
The music
I hear and I make
mends shattered


The passion
I have
and truly love
seems fading.
The comparison
I get from others
is breaking every
The people
who are showing that
I am no good
made my paper empty.
scrapes the willing
and hoping

*-Steph Dionisio, July 26, 2015
Louise Mar 2015
I'm still unable to see your view of me
from your ocean blue eyes
you say it's a sight to see forever
your love, never disguised

I stumble in confusion
as to why you see me the way you do
It breaks my heart and mends me
to feel this love between me and you

You're the only one to love me this way
forever keep me in your sights
never let us lose this love we share
that I see deep in your ocean blue eyes
for my husband  x
Two soldiers as they walk
Lamenting with much despair
Far away from that deadly grip
Of fear and deprivation
For every person everywhere
In every country tribe and nation.

Disposing of those clothes they wore
Casting away without hesitation
Removing reminders of that deadly war
Making mends and new relations
Building a world like never before
With tears of joy on this special occasion.

Two soldiers whose lives were on the line
Head towards a brand new day
They raise their hopes for the very first time
Since they were detained so far away
Behind those enemy lines
Celebrating better times and future days .

Two soldiers together in company
Telling tales of those fearsome times
Happy now they are safe and free
With parties and gatherings in the street
Time now to raise a glass of wine
Alive and standing on there feet .

So long you guns and bombs
Upon this earth you did not belong
You created a world of fear
But now those days are dead and gone
And peace time now is here
Let's hope one day the world will stand as one.
On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
There will be no other end of the world,
There will be no other end of the world.
kgl Jul 2013
i once met a man
who said he wouldn't cry because
he couldn't be seen as "weak."
i smiled in mournful pity.

tears are not a weakness
but a reflection of your heart tearing
tears stream from your eyes
as rain runs down a window pane
and soon the clouds pass
and the rain stops
and the sun dries your tears and mends your heart
and you remember why you are strong;
you are human
and your emotion is the most powerful strength there is
Jessica May 2018
she’s the girl who loves like no other, the girl who mends people’s hearts before her own, she wants to please everyone, for all of the people she loves to have a smile on their face. she’s the girl who will never leave you, never betray you, and if for some reason does, will never forgive herself. she puts others first, because she knows what it feels like to come second. she will attack you with hugs and kisses on the cheek, she never wants you to feel lonely. she’s the girl who gives you the world, and doesn’t expect anything back. she gets hurt, she picks herself up again. waiting for the right person who will make sure she never falls, unless it’s into love. she’s the girl who thinks life is beautiful, the oceans, the flowers, the sunshine resemble her soul. she’s the girl who looks down at her wrists and sees scars, and instead of remembering the pain, she remembers her strength. she’s me, i’m that girl.
-self love
Jordan Nov 2014
You know that saying,
"Misery loves company."?

Well, I disagree.
I think misery loves to isolate.
It loves to tell you that you're only meant to be alone.

Because when your misery is made known,
That is when others' love for you is shone.

And misery cannot dwell in a place that love now owns.
Because love mends the brokenness that misery had once sewn.
Misery loves company
because you can.
because you want to.
because it's the only rememberance you have.
because in another life you won't.
because in another time you wouldn't.
but don't touch this time.
it's the touch that melts you down.
mends your soul.
not her but him also.
but to make her safe not hound her.
it's the touch,
or the essence of touch
that melts her down.
it's the touch,
and the essence of touch
that brings her back.

but don't touch.

because it is the most sensual art
that ever existed.
Debbie Lydon Feb 2019
I am often in awe of your wild mind,
Despite your defences, I can see you are kind.
I know you believe me to be fickle and blind,
But I see you, and the reason for the wall you hide behind.

There is wonder and beauty that light up your eyes,
Yet everyone falls in love with your careful disguise,
Pain finds its way through your laughs and lies,
And there is sorrow within the man, that like a child, cries.

You can turn all the frowns that you see to a smile,
And upon seeing you, my clouds are cleared for a while,
But who mends the hurt that caused your soul's exile?
And when will you turn to face your denial?

Your cheer does not mask the tragedy inside,
Altruism will not change what you're trying to hide,
Unreachable, unfathomable- two ideas within you, allied,
To win the battle over self and thus deem you fortified.

But this barricade will not defend against flame,
Nature is power and emotion is the same,
We are already on fire, to deny it is insane,
So feel what you will, break the shackles of shame.
Parker Louis Jan 2015
The worst kind of suffering is the kind that is silent
Where you're left wondering where your voice went
Did it retreat?
Your words and their ears will never meet
Like a curse
You can't scream out for a nurse
And you can't ask if it'll keep getting worse
The water. Your lungs it'll immerse
The only communication is on your face and called remorse
It never ends
It never mends
You just give it an inner home
and accommodate for it to stay
4/20/2013. I wrote this on a bus on the way home from a Track Meet. I had to write it on my arm in pen at the time.
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street.
Them that ask no questions isn’t told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
  Five and twenty ponies,
  Trotting through the dark—
  Brandy for the Parson,
  ‘Baccy for the Clerk;
  Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine,
Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use ’em for your play.
Put the brishwood back again—and they’ll be gone next day!

If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining’s wet and warm—don’t you ask no more!

If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red,
You be carefull what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you “pretty maid,” and chuck you ’neath the chin,
Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been!

Knocks and footsteps round the house—whistles after dark—
You’ve no call for running out till the house-dogs bark.
Trusty’s here, and Pincher’s here, and see how dumb they lie—
They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!

If you do as you’ve been told, ‘likely there’s a chance,
You’ll be given a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood—
A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good!
  Five and twenty ponies,
  Trotting through the dark—
  Brandy for the Parson,
  ‘Baccy for the Clerk;
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie—
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen bo by!
Hannah Simmons May 2013
Wildly the time flies
Moments passing in a flash
People and places never staying
Even when you wish they would.

Quickly hope ensues
That maybe they can stay
Stay near, young, and innocent
Never changing from who they were

Then despair crashes
And releases that hope
Because people change and grow
And maybe leave you behind to move

Softly longing creeps
Into your heart
Grips your mind and stays
Vowing never to let you forget

The past and how things were then
When all was perfect and true
Two hearts combined to one
Shattering the peace

Daringly you wait
For a moment to return
And bring you back to a time
A time without the pain of knowing

Slowly wanting builds
Anticipation grows cautiously
Know the pain, and the excitement at
Knowing the people you once knew again

Gracefully, curiosity sits
Patiently waiting for a moment
To spring forth and explore the world
That was left behind, gone, but not missing

Boldly excitement wanders
And reaches out to those ones
That left you behind to be alone
While still remembering who you were

Only to be reminded of pain once again
Reminded that time isn’t the healer
That mends everything broken
Only knowing hope does.
This poem is the same as timeline, except that I added a few more stanzas.
Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised,
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars?
Creep thou between—thy coming’s all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fray
(By Adam’s, fathers’, own, sin bound alway);
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate, or mars.
Laurie Fisher Oct 2011
Everyone seems to do, just fine on thier own
How come I can't stand, the thought of being alone
I'm spiraling down
Taking the innocent with me
I don't think I'll ever have the strength, I see in so many.

Darkness and silence surround me,
My horendous thoughts drowned me,
Happiness pursuades me
It pushes and it grinds
But I can't seem to find, the stability
Everyone has but, I.

I pout and vent at those around me
I give off an aura of nothing, but meloncholy
My vibes I send, aren't what you wish
If I could change these emotions
Trust me, I would in a flip

But I am stuck in a state
Of which I cannot explain
Its costing me everything; my life and my friends
None of them can feel, the pain that transends
So why be around me
I'm a burden with no mends.
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
Is from the September equinox to the December solstice

Where you fell into the story was what mattered to me I looked on your beauty I saw you were in the
Autumn of life rustic adventure played an overture of mellow that softly blows the soul colored with
Delighted hues of gold red and orange these colors bespeak the whitened snow that lies in the offing
That tingling chill that so greatly advocates wonder of stillness but now it is the window view of a world
That is enthralling an excitement portrayed by loss that buzzes with excitement to be curtailed then to
Find the true fountain of youth a time of hardness elemental profound sterility a forest denuded in its
Own way it drags the eyes to this skyward enchanted starkness spikenard oil for the mind and emotions
It will halt and fascinate this alone would put disagreeable thoughts on hold it reverberates a quiet
Lustiness forms and ushers one into majestic simplistic appreciation of emptiness punctuated by the
Bizarre show that trees perform when they seemingly accuse the sky with bare limbs and stand in a
Gaunt stage one could read the story of doubt and faith reason and all visible means of perception says
All is lost but the unfailing grace that is locked in the heart of nature will be rewarded and with great
Proofs it never fails to succeed we to should hold fast when all evidence flees and we to are left alone
And barren this is of a truth your time and mine of new beginnings what little price to pay for the
Opportunity to unlock such rewards the same as when the trees start to bud the rich foliage comforts
And soothes the earth below and then doctors and mends the wind by photosynthesis purifying
Impurities keeping the whole environment healthy so if you are sidelined by this or that problem
Don’t be in too big of a hurry to lose hope and become frustrated look on the seasons believe and
Realize your having an autumn interlude and soon you will be a certain health and reward to your
Family and community yes at first I too was upset thinking of you in disagreeable circumstances but then
I was allowed to see your life not being affected by unruly means on the contrary you were being
Reshaped being given fuller leeway so many pluses that counter negatives that are a reality but the
Greatest Unseen hand works vigorously without fail to enrich empower by the lives of friends by this
Means the world is incorporated with values and trusts that bring rich harvests they surprise with
Wonderful Additions clouds and blue sky the vesture of the sweet earth that we as uncommon flowers
Permeate with scents that hold us all spellbound
Maddy Van Buren Mar 2015
fill a tub with rose petals
as the faucet cries
no time to mourn anyone
guitar hums with a slowness
i don't seem to remember
a lonely pain underwater
emotionless motionless
water mends
neck deep
when will the violin scream
when it does
promise me
you can't hear it either
from way down here
Set of cave genes If you could read ... pluri freedoms of the dark light of ignorance teach understand that breathe under the Naturality Natural Nature is not necessary to have an understanding heart and store on their empty heads of knowing ancient rain where wisdom possess. If dance on every grain of chickpea for each foot plant what could a plant obeys; foot, Plant and Plantation ...

Resulting kingdoms on my animals, fungi, plants and protists, media freedom as a seed to reach our evolutionary lack of ceased hopeness ...

First  Ellipsis Angle loneliness"God felt Chained"

Chained down by dragging the last link of its multiple arcane freedom in which transfigured recent swings where he collapsed with the latter being of himself whose life lies lifeless alive but lost. The latter that child not to know and deprived of nascent freedom that will never be born and come knowledge in our genome of Independence.

When the cave man thought to be a complement to the world is enslaved by the mystery of lost in himself .... The born and born, never dies, that's so naive and innocent ... is still full unaware of their free will, rather it is he who must re-literate and be a living part of the ancestral genome Cavernario component. Oh Heavenly Lord of the steppes I look because more of you today without having lived what you lived, as he would have played with my gaze to succor and keep you had fallen into the fangs of an animal, or you had fallen on the glacier cliff where he has separated you from your Clan Cave.

Emancipation means to be always innocent, my blood runs through yours,
I read and understand any phenomenon of deprivation exist without you lack wisdom satiate, if all your generations crushed by ignorance of falling subject will be well, me and my being I take my precognitions as a tormented child's worst nightmare before about sleeping. Sixth Papal almost, almost kneel before the creation memorizes creation. This prerogative Lord lives Bread’s God Minor remaining ... .of whose iconography will not leave this fifth fraternal dimension will not come, if not more will enter the latter end of absolute solitude ... and shorter than the last thousand years of Neandertal.

Cavernary Political and Ellipsis:

On a day of gentle wind and tense rain proclaiming Clan joined, they all shouted running, the ground shook and the children slept on terror ... the 10 infants who were talking about the Sign from above, but the nines they crossed his arms remaining to create solidarity roof that protects the man in your imagination ....
The eighth child of the clan ran quickly into the arms of his mother and she imagined how far, how far would never come ... uncharacteristically who came with his brother seventh had in their hands the word of entertainment of Being, to be a plaintiff political all of braiding them together with lines enabling the hermit may decide that creation is a mass of lines of certain fashions together, everything sings like the slightest cyclamen dew on the line pointy rough fallen fungus. All arms folded on the upper porch of the Vatican Macario in Franconia, saying that many who unite in their fevered requests large modern man ceased to be autonomous when it came out of their caves and charnel pit.

Ran all she enjoyed doing that almost without knowing whether or not they fall ...
Ran because every day the sun ahead them a lesson for man of the future ...
They are running to be released the day of his birth chained to stars of light, to carry him to his mother and father, sneaking to his brothers.

Brother worn eleventh birth to her existence as another being evolved Eukaryotic: Surely those provided beings of cell membranes rhizomes reflected in higher libertary lives purged of ectoplasm walk without discounted subsidiary. Shakespeare in Helsingor appeared immune to a blood brother to all that limits the Draconian feel in the pinnacles drawn 700 greened steeds. From the deepest swoon in the underworld subway Helsingor, follow the prevailing souls presided over by the great ear of hard sand castle, stressed hard Ghosts of Stratford upon Avon.

Freedom plague spits words of pancreatic poisoned exordium, spits verses of confusion disorders without permission, without solid bass sound without liquid sea that resist mad edges followed by solid sound ....
But smaller stones give priority to conjugate final sentence and noble verses Guardian
to missionte how important would Liberation:

Maybe it's synonymy of Astral Solar ...
It is not Solitude, is a free nation that has its own kind prosecutor's office for even when Euthanasia close your eyes to the astral, will run the stones of the Sea of joy believing that neither you dare if there is no healthy grass to clarify the rainy day terror.

Reverse walk creeks aggravated birds feet, walking great playful ruse.
Reverse run my comrades preparing festivity meals with chandeliers and singing lay plenary., Singing Avenue pine port Firenze, Second run subtracting minutes and hours the minute is enough for me with your face in my arms to recognize your longevity anathema times oblique faces for lip smacking hailstones Templars.

In 1297 in northern Italy nearby rural families migrate chalky Venice, Perugia came the exiles walked find their independence south of the Iberian Peninsula. They were so atoned as in the echoing flutes, harps, zithers and harpsichords field temperate; They invited the blunting of intemperate monocordio.

Golden Chariot Carrenio

Golden carriage carrying them came without a single space rather than inheritances acquired goldsmiths of ancient noble and chaste solid shine. Carrenio; the coachman wore on his left arm bracelet thousand mobile travel without stopping to drink more water and to feed their horses. After revamping its gold pieces bartered by slave who was getting Carrenio Christians fleeing the Romans. Well they fled as far as the plains of great earthly squandered his memory and that end of the end should come.

How am away from my land more I learn it's back to her,
There is no ground for the first time, but that which is foreign
Carrenio of Perugia and sensed that ****** was Jewish ashes,
Luther King black paste of burnt forest,
Mandela and Biko Ogre gargra from Victorian Empire,
Gandhi in his humility is always put behind the Sun
to figure out the small
Tagore trashed my heart caressing the entire universe uncorrupted
Hölderlin together in the cabin waiting for his mother at Zimmerman,
That my beloved Borker forest shoild shine a gold teeth with black resin,
Theresa of Calcutta was eaten and swallowed all diseases lepers knowing good taste proverbial dessert psalm,
Jose Miguel Carrera was more than a trench, clay bullets in each of his temples where he received
To be doubly Lonco is to be halved, lacerated by lay his head on his land, not galloping on his back throngs of wit and hope out Nazareth trembles when an F-16 diluted ***** covering landless caravans Heritage continues to lead the people killed but the mosque wall has been Fe Erecta.
Helena plenipotentiary Kowalska at Vilnius, Faustina Divine Mercy Diadema
The agonizing deprivation of millions of people with cancer in every continent of private well-being analgesic, weighed down by increased pain, almost as strong as the Master Hammered Golgotha, so it was that Joshua has cancer always to slow it down on us. Benigno whether metastasis, malignant albeit benign finance.
The death of an innocent little angel devoured by the beast, remains as a fluff hairless sardine in the jaws of a shark baron.
Khalil Gibran writes that with both hands to support the reviewer behind in Bicharri and bohemian Paris,

Salvador Allende Gossens was born since he was deceived by his parents who would heal politics, would rather dig their ancestors in their brains scattered in the currency in face seal or tail of.

Frei Montalva that today has to receive the Macro Augusto Heaven their arms, their sorrows and regrets, although his worst military executioner.

Legion is an offshoot of liquid central gray material, which defers well done becoming but not defeated, it is the decree of the divine threshold space Living or cease to live, that failure does not exist, it is the postponement of success - success .

The Genocide September 11 in New York was a ritual, who produced was a small wrath strength of the Rotary world, as the cam shaft is upset in the history of trying to make more alphabet in schools where the flag hoisting and found scholars in West and East, so they can learn more than reading of both unlettered, lip and water to possess it write with it. The worst disaster is read with the memory that will never happen ... I write my greatest need with lipstick and my greatest need I write eager to participate. Yesterday I passed by a boutique and buy lipsticks that are closer to the language, written with the mouth and not the hand. !

Freedom, debauchery, libration, drawer, Bookstores ..! Carrenio ..: he said see I'm right! Raise and educate has a great synonymy with autonomy, because the ancestors wrote everything that deprived them and made them fear, but do not have to eat the autumn gives me to dress the return of spring, bread orchid and cineraria. Hence by that inner syllabic singing hunger sated that sought sheet to sheet rid of everything until the end of the book as the encounter between night and day without considering oblivious to anything or anyone on the track window swing wind, wind seeping.

It was old Zeus or Hera of Antique,
Cavernal cavern to house geometric polyphonic, angular seeds to create fashions kiss kissed everything that any vertical plane does not fit with the closed horizon
For hands and angels Hebrews inner soul of every carpenter and stonemason shrunk, wash their eyes and cheeks with songs of vibration and idyllic comfort,
Everything resembled and sounded Bethlehem 2.0 deities choirs sweeping grasslands,
Similarity of this clairvoyant child is born in a cave ...
Rising motherly free Soliloquy Papini sitting to the right of ruminant cattle,
So archaic that to be born is not born in a clinic mega Cristus but hundreds of kilometers and hundreds who are born with the undergirding whispers and servitude being.
Where the multi gray impetuous born star is a healthy gauze story in the present tense ... this angelic child grows by Miriam washes his feet in a belligerent abolished stone. His father must wash their hands on a stone which is where measured his ecclesiastical mystical stature, stone Madonna to heal his feet where he leaves to free himself, to free us ... Marble gamete fémina vault, where he sleeps without knowing whether it is due, the ***** fell from the sky.
How wise is the Wise, it makes permissible for much more than two thousand years we stone quarry wheel and wheel, homily and blessing to not wake at night to sleep startle middle and uphill.

The me of the referent of antiquity is not the me of today is polished cobble stone,
Useful weapon quarry road there and back track to have blisters stone and soft thoughts under my pillow soft stone as a whole.

If you're ****** private're living and have a free soul choosing coexist, then you are low in the cemetery on a tombstone of heresies.

Neolithic early 4500 after Hildegard von Bingen and his entourage and prowled full and channeled, swooning in her swoon with flowers in his hands and his followers planting forests on top of Stonehenge.

Carrenio says ...: you see I'm right, we coexist, I die like the worst ****** cancer and then put a tombstone stonehenge conspire in my honor black pain prayers of Salisbury. It blooms in vibrant red rubies that detonate in chromaticity and life. The stream itself is exceeded aquatic plant Macarenia.

Call us and civilize us, outdated as far as my tired feet though I come not ashamed to see my new tracks.

Carrenio says ...;see I'm right Joshua has traces of gold from other Caterpillar shod feet. Antique everything is prescribed according to their legacy today is Lent Pro that came before it was Lent vestige Pentecost came to be a nickname of the mystery of the passion in less than a rooster crows.

Beside it is the mystery of the disappointment of stubborn demon, helps you all carry the cross, but not the entire load. Fire and Light at dawns where the splendor born ...

Genome Freedom, even today every centimeter of my witness of each component, if basic origin of the signs of the primitive world, is that we have lost the bark of the lexicon, which does not allow us to understand the meditations to ask for something, not You need to ask something. Today genome is requesting something because thousands of people who asked for millions of years, now it's time to cater to them. They were wrapped in cloth shroud of spiritual sacredness, today cemeteries mega dance their souls leave no sleepers both much grass on their heads not yet sullied by the puppet Azrael.

Impossible not to decorate the rocks forged empires that fall into the rubble, they bring 476 d. C., a new opening Middle age freedom of travel both in history thousands of years begins a new axis Golden Carrenio’s Chariot.

       Carrenio Wagon

This great colossal ship Carrenio time, is a timber that holds the sky, a beam that does not faint or distended thousands a. C, and the old age of Kings large musings that were forgotten. It is a stride ship millennium, their history of oppression has seen in the wheel, instrument wise rolling like a wheel before 5,000 years ago, here  We fought and prostrated to distant lands millennium after millennium him away.

Golden Chariot is the structure that freedman us to enforce a new life on earth, even the Gods prided themselves move the stars to constellations called her noble Auriga sailing in full the Universes and Cartwheel Galaxy or cart Wheel. As if to say that when the Universe and its own mythology, were visited between them inch by inch by wherever they shine.

Carrenio mask and frame used, had strength, temper and tittle. When the first libertarian squall of antiquity came closer, Rome was already small and nobles populate what is a quote piccola. The executioner always frightened and starts out of his own wickedness. Markos Botsaris as did in Greece, and surrounding towns Messologhi remote, they were free more than tuned in massif Arankithos high wind. He was riding to Kanti once again with the golden rider Etrestles of Kalavrita. According to the Chronicle that came from distant millennia has envisioning promote its neighbors heroic to free Messolonghi of ****** wars. All this I saw with his own eyes Carrenio, every thousand years styling with Etrestles, cleaned their nostrils so that new breed of horses to thrive,

Avignon, in the necropolis witnessed as Azrael was cleaning his wings Jade antipopes, another story begins ... even he seeks to candela who can read this story, and who can provide it from hand to hand cutting semicolons who disclosed.

Second  Ellipsis Angle  New Era:

Ara released the ropes throwing a big ship, History makes man is at the center of the world. Revolutions, thinking, communication and especially vindicate man in his right libertarian. artists with their creations flowing all over the world, mutating classic Renaissance to abstract overlook. Family appearing welfare and needs. As ramble and so many broken laws. Mankind is distracted l film and theater artists of tradition. Art now has sound and movement, then social and political revolutions are industrial that unite everyone behind the pivot deployment of social classes.

Everything evolves until we get tired of doing so. It rests and then continue. This is modern reality, we wrote about the history of events on facts that have never been told. The world has tired all the Eras, but each pause time that has happened has been recharged, nothing finished if not started again. After so many wise lawyers, clergy plunged into great towers bound books. Is evident again can not read or understand. Our realities are missing valid without knowing I close and then open another door. human and civil rights, fair wages, so excessive autocracy monarchy. Free man can walk along the paths, even if they were trenches.

Zephyr soft murmur which clutters in the Irises by Van Gogh, the painter is the biggest star trek, called with his feet images and colors that would make his own liberty to live naturally insane. And many others Brueghel "Triumph of Death" that roam the countryside, perhaps a medieval piece of Tarskovski; Andrei Rublev in futile painters decorating steps in the fontano chignon Androniko Monastery Moscow, extinct Rublev 70 years, Tarkovsky 54.

Early ellipsis - Campo dei Fiori in Rome to see die at the stake Giordano Bruno by order of the Holy Inquisition. Irruption of the Inquisition, but their feet are touching the flowers, the seasoned cassock continues to haunt the universe of Faith Dominica Trastevere, it is seen to lectures on how to be bold with the informers and the Whistle Blower dies without shade in spring , you resist the star on the asphalt on the magical island of holiness.

Carrenio says: Come I'm right, we can not read, because the brutality of the Cosmos is manure per ton weathered in the backyard of the aristocracy. I will continue with respect and persignado in Crete. LiLiA Kedrova means the fear of bunk bed tied to her bed and be free in foreign lands leg. Queen insular matriarchy, she lives more than any Greek Goddess, waiting for his Adonis, to fill out honors. Win an Oscar but lost to Zorba, he loses his house but won a Tony Awards. How many women teach us that to win you have to give everything to lose his brains, and thus count as lost number remains to be retained. Zorba whines in her arms, she moans in the arms of her husband Zeus Steve, proof of a new era. Onyx for his tomb, plate of this great tragedy.

On the evening of December 14, 1964, attended the premiere. Soul of Carrenio was with them, but was denied his attendance at the banquet, finally running out and watching the glasses lips and stoles spent his neck.  

           ­                      Numbered Mysterious Death

If I have to feel floe on my feet and cold in my prayers will be the Dark Glory. What is slimming rays of the day, everything smelled of silence, maybe it was Kennedy, or better was The Mané.

Closure of my glory suffers the wind ...
Flowers lying silence my soul alight,
Thick square displays the song of my voice ...
When they speak Quadratils one to one order their
Spirituous voice.

And the spirit singing fiber of my heart told me:
Never you say I Exist ¡ not exist because they do not exist!
Only face daily the different reflection of your body
In front of yourself with another face and another body ...

I want to talk with the thought
And this same substract my little silhouette,
Lavishes wingless bird that flies only in their theology ...
That is the duty and melt with my look,
Solid colors components
Crunching the altars of heaven retaining its pale warmth of anorexia.

Yellow Glory hair good event ...
If you receive yellow lights, plus I do not sing my own game here in my empty veins,
Yellow my heart ...
Yellow my heart
Yellow my collective heart.

They are run by large green and sunny meadows, children who had Mane in this major milestone in its last gasp. Now she is the mother of his children; it up and them in the last temptation of the mystery of death.

Carrenio keeps rolling, the brightness offered his Golden wagon to the ground. Gold grooves ago, and looking at where it realize that it's landmass light mud. Since he felt whispers from the confins of time he had never felt as if you were finishing your journey, or the world. It raining years and years and continues because nobody mends the mysterious death Numbered.

Heaven and Earth did not hold, the bottom fell precipitously pocket Lord and denied several times uncontained. She shivered in the World and the rooster crowed several times to never be heard or the Pentagon.  

He is walking and knees bent,
we embraced by the golden chariot and oxen nor held
we bent us all lying on his knees,
up shoulders not hear from where came the bad grace of his departure,
numbered all the time of complains of how then she would come,
It is unknown who would be but brought a wine in his hand on crispy mask
We ran from side to side and nothing was real

Everything seemed to sing in chapel on a sad day,
But I hear loudly like Latin and watchfulness,
Those who know his mystery is no stranger to them
They all look, but transgress the sin of silence.

Carrenio still absorbed in the hallway,
Angulo ellipsis she comes winged like a star burning tar,
A high speed to give us the new
No garden can deprive greet in speed visit
Dome comes, it comes on the eve of the new moon.

Numbered Widow mysterious,
Mané is a land of golden color and no celestial whoever wants in his cell,
Breath test, and feeding the Toffy and his henchmen
That sustaining more lively detail, there is no one that can not be targeted

It was modern, it was night, it was his torn life as an accomplice of his exile abandonment in his allegory of tender dismissal. Carrenio achieved so say goodbye to the beams of light that told him of the mysterious death Numbered. He sat on the roadside and drank some wine. Then dry with his handkerchief his neck, and have never wanted to experience such an event in a toast ever drunk.

Third Ellipsis Angle  of  New Era

Independence of Chile, it concern Mapuche atingent case. Araucania pound, then 1818 central Chile. In Brief Earth makes free an entire nation. His naive and primitive braves inhabitants emancipated themselves from all sides, they came to save a people who were just following where nobody can reach. Independence of the United States separates us approximately 42 years, breaking up owners of nowhere. Industrial Abolitionist and South Slaver and Agraria. Biggest event that more than 640,000 men and fallen activists planted safe from repression fields.

In Chile all rule resembled this secession in today's Araucano man prays for his fallen by almost more than 3 centuries in Chilean lands of Araucanía’s men. Lautaro genius and his supporters the heart of Pedro de Valdivia ate; Map ever made to your battle mapping Tucapel. "Initiation and final symbol occurred after 282 years of fierce war" and Mapuche land forever their independence from the Spanish Empire Captain General important in foreign lands never subjected to foreign rule would eat.

The Machis and Loncos make supplications in native forests falling on them pollen on its back as if nothing out 10 times better ...

To Libertas strengthen in the west is necessary to push the limits of the earth beneath his tongue and penance for the greedy entangled in the lines of bloodied sky, rebellions Chieftains death defying all together at the edge of a cliff . 1769 The Pehuenches led by Lebian Cacique, joined the Mapuches razing Yumbel and Laja, the most peaceful Huilliches also joined mass alerting perhaps innocent people land blood stained war and the Mcckay Luchsinger.

No doubt portals portals military rebellion trigger blood, where they opened a tip and swords in the past. Here's reading concern is that the succession is timeless time, sword without a sword, but on the tip of her blood is seen where there were herds and warriors crushed by their own footsteps. Here the phenomenon of freedom begins; Humanity runs treading his own footsteps, to save his family from a threat, but not strange forces that force you to use your defenses, because in the groves populate many helpless souls with his sword unused at the expense of being forced to use .

Freedom genome; It aims to reach where it has not come without looking back,
Chalices pour out is where the troubadours not cuddle her close looks as time, singing while watching the changes are not of a new life

Heaven star,
Come to me,
I ask a sign to see them arrive,
Because I want to thus been dragged
Being together Eager to feel ...
Those respites without being comforted
going to the mouth of the serpent.

About the Garden,
My home is to put my love,
He has to put the days imagining close ...
To enjoy yourself in nonexistent ...

Oh my house tormenting me ...!
Because in it I feel your smell
They are alone lights
Where I would wait for me to be in the dark ...

In the coming future,
You will not see or hear my anger ...
Perhaps my happiness nor peace praying
As the spear in the hands of the perpetrator.

You know a storm of whispers
I do sow your name in the wilderness,
It's because my judgments of hope
They mount up arable land deposited in my frenzy
Misled by love which is my love.

But you never understand,
Because time has invaded my dwelling,
Invading my brain to give
It has invaded my choosing to love ...

On the grass path,
Every time I move away from you,
I turn to see if you have not been ...

Love came,
And I think that leaves us alone to avail ourselves
Ranging in our time ...

But I can not resist his silence,
For my house want the noise of its action,
Why keys to the gates that serve my understanding.

Tramples my heart the fragmenting oddities into smaller pieces,
Your answer that call.

Tur love be like if I had created ...
As if only you had appreciated your beautiful creation.

Do not destroy your work expresses in his mystery give life to your dreams!
Man aiming a better earth, ask some of you to join your dreams ...

! Your wife of this land not procrastinate your misfortune,
I discover far peaceful landscapes like an echo in the spring,
As large and deep as your forgiveness for loving me more

It tells the Earth to the Sun in its perky tear benefactress of new opportunities as good and healthy smile rainbow on the back of Oviedo sheep valleys of freedom of Pietrelcina life.  

To be continued…
Genoma Freedom , by Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso - Under Edition
Derick Van Dusen Feb 2011
Ive got an Angel watchin
His tattered wings wrapped round my shoulder
Beaten, I lay broken, in tattered Angel wings
Bruised, I am battered, on tattered Angel wings.

   Slowly I weaken, consciousness is gone
Bruises becomes badges, where bleeding used to be
Broken bones mend like solid stone, Granite on my feet
Ive got an Angel with tattered wings.

   Ive got an Angel watchin
He mends the mangled mind, manic, megalomaniacal  
He takes the blows my soul cant handle
Ive got an Angel with tattered wings.

   Ive never said thank you for all that hes done
But without God, he would be none
So I give thanks to God
For the Angel with tattered wings.

   His feathers in disarray, some missing
Wounds Garnered from a life commanded  to protect one
Commanded to serve, no matter the cost, taking on what I lost
Ive got an Angel with tattered wings and when I'm taking
a leave from me he brings me back my sanity.
Emily Jan 2014
Making mistakes
Doing the wrong thing
It's all added up
The pills
The drugs
The attempts at sleep
Nothing mends
My broken soul
Anxiety attacks
Like a lion
Does to its prey
I'm just a victim
Of my own mind
Ruining any chance
I have at survival
Much less happiness
My thoughts to end it all
Overwhelm my thinking process
I want to disappear
And never return
I don't want anybody
To know who I am
I don't even want to know
© Peyton 2014
Universal Thrum Sep 2013
Is poetry the last bastion of the scarred mass of humanity lost to the subtle truth that words are signs from the divine that we are all one and nothing, because if so then I must hope that mine are worth the lasting
If what is both false and true heard by no one but the mute passed trembling from his unused lips sealed with venom by a scarlet kiss and gassed silently on by occultist grips narrowly worth the waiting
Then and only then will we learn both the where and when as the spirit goes on laughing

Falling further farther down clutching tightly golden crowns mimicking Gods with emboldened sounds riveting emotion flicker round
Theater is what we’re asking
Days upon days without any end the trigger lingers shoot again imprisoned here by our own command lost in thought not acting
What will it be our own device to save us suffering from the pain and strife the mortal coil lust and vice perpetually worth the asking
The snake he calls with warm lit clouds and the sun is ever shining

Uproot the tree out of sodden ground the branches broken crash and pound
litter ridden strewn across the burial mound the eagle cries in distance
Sparrow flies upon the wing angels make joy and forever sing our ears in whispers but never bring consistently the frequency to our brains
My foot falls but once upon the wither winds softly like a child carrying me to the end
the bridge between the forest creek meandering mends uplifting me from sorrow.
So long until tomorrow.
kimberley Jun 2014
6.02 a.m.

sunlight pries your eyes open and i
meet you for the ****** time again and again

nothing mends and breaks my heart more than watching
you fall in love with a novel fragment of me every day

9.35 a.m.

i toast bread with both eyes closed
and i let them char like the edges of my heart

you tell me last thursday's joke
but i erupt into hilarity, anyway

3.17 p.m.

nostalgia is a side-effect of forgetting
you reminisce about knitting parties we never threw

between giggles, i wonder how your words are needles
that pick all of the right places

7.43 p.m.

this world is a stygian dystopia
but you, you are my sole scintilla of colour

i feed you blatant lies for dinner
only to let you sleep with a peace of mind

11.59 p.m.

i watch you fall asleep to the rhythm of my silence
there are all types of silences and distances
but this
this is the worst kind

please, don't forget
to remember
hey guys, I'd really, really appreciate some feedback on this one! Constructive criticism is more than welcome. Thank you x
Tony Oquendo Aug 2014
Heavy the weight that one must carry when things start to come apart,

Emotions unbound a soul in sorrow the burdens of a troubled heart;

I will be your friend and while your heart mends I will share in your joys and sorrow,

And wait for that day when you finally say, things will be better tomorrow.
Daan Nov 2014
I dropped my ice cream cone today.
It made me realise that I stray.
Life is boring without the glue
that mends a feeling to all new.

A kid could scream a mother crazy.
But is it better than him being lazy?
And I should practice timing more,
being one of the few that I don't bore.

The drop of a can in a machine,
or of it on your phone's screen,
depresses on a different level
those who seek the purest revel.

In silence when the movie ends,
in the joy when that glue mends.
In the grace of the woman that I'll marry
In the smile of the girl I carry
even when my arms get sore.

In what condition do you develop
certain feelings more than others?
Monda Salem Mar 2015
When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.

Courageously, she challenges the sun.
With her eyes she enslaves nature.
Sometimes it's bright, others it's dun,
especially on her departure.

Her life is a forest that always rains,
not close to a neoclassical garden.
In her absence nothing remains,
for she is one of a kind maiden.

When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
Her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.
Mitch Nihilist Jan 2016
I haven’t felt her
in 5 days,
I haven’t felt
how delicate
the rim of her
mouth feels
against mine,
how enticing it
is to get a taste,
I have to taste
all of her,
they way she
flows through me,
she’s mends all thats
broken, then breaks
it when she leaves,
it’s only been 5 days,
I miss the bitter taste,
the way she makes
my tongue curl
up like a slug
swallowing tablespoons,
she pulls me in,
and hangs me with
the rope she yanked,
scraping the bottom
of the barrel,
for even a scent of what
will remind me of her,
every taste
is like losing my
virginity for
the last time,
and she became
so much more
than a past-time,
so much more than
something to
pass time,
it’s been 5 days,
soon to be back
at the crack of the
new year,
she’s a constant
that I can’t wait
to break,
or is it me she can’t
wait to break,
she leaves a bitter taste
on my mind
and thoughts that flow
through my veins,
she’s someone I can
thank, she’s someone
I try so hard to forget,
she dictates and mediates,
a forged signature
on bills passed to
loved ones
that I’m okay,
but only for the night
she’s anger, she’s happiness
she paint’s crimsons kisses
on my knuckles,
and heals cardinal
crevices in my mind,
it’s only been 5 days,
I’ll see you soon
I’ll taste you soon
Drifton A Way Feb 2013
Is it infatuation combined with the new lovely scent
With saturation would the hail begin to make a dent
The flirtation fades with each and every hour spent
The deflation sets in on our slow inevitable descent
The stagnation creeps up like another months rent
As temptation calls out wondering where you went
A Castration can't compare to this type of torment
No frustration in the world like time"s resentment

If you could only flaw less in your never ending search
Go back to the drawing board or maybe even try church

History repeats itself, feelings of heartbroken violence
As you lay next to me breathing a beautiful soft silence

She"ll never truly be free, never let down her guard
Ironically we can never be, both emotionally scarred

Shared memories framed by another fleeting exposure
Shall never come close to providing adequate closure

No matter how this ends my soul will still need a cast
Smiling big as it mends, for moments lived like our last
Optically delusional to the pastures of greener grass so vast
Finally destined to arrive yet can"t stop longing for the past

Tragically we are meant to be, only if we are actually apart
Insane levels of pain tearing through the veins of my heart

Today we are again away, but our time I shall forever cherish
Tomorrow"s just another day without you until I finally perish
Earth Shine Aug 2012
'07:* girl meets boy, senses shocked—
life as she knew it forever swayed by his rash and carefree decisions
she grows, leaving the world she knew behind
metamorphosing rapidly, shedding the comfort of her caccoon..
sprouting wings where legs once grew

'08: time passes yet their feelings have not come to fruition
another man enters the picture, bringing new hope to love
squashing all ideas of it before it even has a chance to flourish
gone, never to be heard from again; back to the drawing table..
her flight path altered slightly, regaining composition—slowly but surely

'09: her light shines bright now, thru numerous trials and tribulations
enter: a new boy; his style & grace caresses her to the core
his soul intertwines with hers, pouring brightness over the dark times
little does she know the darkest are yet to come..

'10: their obsession grows, littered with dishonesty & mistrust
an obvious love affair; tainted relationships append a broken start..
the girl—confused, lost in remorse—negates the power she knows exists in their love
he fights for her & she pushes him away, hopelessly overwhelmed by her guilt

'11: a new year; old habits—the glow of their love almost completely diminished
hearts broken, new relationships envelop their mistrust; loss, gain, loss gain
guilt finally replaced by regret, she realizes what she knew all along..
slightly shaken, she mends her heart & bandages her bruised ego
—in honor of the child now growing inside of her

'12: a beautiful boy brought into their world; blinded happiness—
a sudden change of heart from the boy, torn apart by his own insecurities and emotions
a bitter & resentful girl, grasping at the wind; no reciprication
finally—a break in the void.. hopeful at last, she is hesitant to be too greedy..
should she fight for him as he did her? or will their destinies choose themselves?

'13:* a twisted plot: boy #1 re-enters the scene; lost, desparate, & reminiscent of the past
tear-streaked and beautiful, the girl—now a mother—makes the decision she knew would never make itself..
squashing all traces of lingering hope in her now-adamant beau, she takes their son & leaves behind the life they knew; it is her turn to be greedy
dreams as fragile as rose-petals are crushed beneath the eyes of the friends she once called family
slate cleared; it is over before it began.. homeward bound—to the family she calls nothing

to be continued
Marian Sep 2013
I hope your heart mends soon
May the stars console you
As well as the moon
May God get you through this hard time
May the Fairies dry your tears and kiss your cheek
May God mend your heart
You are so beautiful and meek
May you feel better soon
May you stoop to sniff a rose
And dream beside a creek
And may you dance like the flower that grows
And read beneath a palm tree
May the waves cheer you up
And the sand cool your feet
And with seashells fill your bucket up
Smell the salty breeze
Sit beside the ocean with a glass of lemonade
Watch the palm trees on the shore
Sweetly dancing in the shade
At night watch the silent moon
So may God heal your broken heart in time
Watch the flowers dance and waltz
Listen to the bells that sweetly chime
My deepest sympathies

Written for Mom!!!
May she feel better soon!!! ~<3
Rhianna OReilly Sep 2011
The purest diamond,
the cleanest water,
the sweetest sugar, the warmest weather
but I insist on wearing a sweater,
thirsting for something bitter.
Love is all around, yet I’m
sealed in my sadness
Knowledge’s fruit tastes so sweet, so right,
then briskly becomes bitter.
Love is just too large, too clean, too perfect
for me to understand.

Heavy, painful, filthy feels
fashionable in this life…
Despite my comfort in it,
Love looks at me with His kind eyes,
lifts me out and makes me bright.

We always have a reason, an excuse;
it’s easy to be unclean.
But when it makes me sick,
but when it starts to hurt,

Love comes from the light, to which I’ve turned my back,
mends my heart and makes me right.
Love comes from the light, mends my heart and gives me life.
laura-jessica Dec 2018
sometimes to fix a broken heart,

you have to hurt it even more than the last time

it was in pain.
“But if any old Lady, Knight, Priest, or Physician,
   Should condemn me for printing a second edition;
   If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse,
   May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?”

   Anstey’s ‘New Bath Guide’, p.69.

Candour compels me, BECHER! to commend
The verse, which blends the censor with the friend;
Your strong yet just reproof extorts applause
From me, the heedless and imprudent cause;
For this wild error, which pervades my strain,
I sue for pardon,—must I sue in vain?
The wise sometimes from Wisdom’s ways depart;
Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart?
Precepts of prudence curb, but can’t controul,
The fierce emotions of the flowing soul.
When Love’s delirium haunts the glowing mind,
Limping Decorum lingers far behind;
Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace,
Outstript and vanquish’d in the mental chase.
The young, the old, have worn the chains of love;
Let those, they ne’er confined, my lay reprove;
Let those, whose souls contemn the pleasing power,
Their censures on the hapless victim shower.
Oh! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song,
The ceaseless echo of the rhyming throng,
Whose labour’d lines, in chilling numbers flow,
To paint a pang the author ne’er can know!
The artless Helicon, I boast, is youth;—
My Lyre, the Heart—my Muse, the simple Truth.
Far be’t from me the “******’s mind” to “taint:”
Seduction’s dread is here no slight restraint:
The maid whose ****** breast is void of guile,
Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile,
Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,
Firm in her virtue’s strength, yet not severe;
She, whom a conscious grace shall thus refine,
Will ne’er be “tainted” by a strain of mine.
But, for the nymph whose premature desires
Torment her ***** with unholy fires,
No net to snare her willing heart is spread;
She would have fallen, though she ne’er had read.
For me, I fain would please the chosen few,
Whose souls, to feeling and to nature true,
Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy
The light effusions of a heedless boy.
I seek not glory from the senseless crowd;
Of fancied laurels, I shall ne’er be proud;
Their warmest plaudits I would scarcely prize,
Their sneers or censures, I alike despise.
she acts as if music is her entire world
her only survival mechanism
her only escape from the hateful world around her

and when she plays her music, she plays with the force of her entire heart
truthfully and genuinely

so much care is put into every note
so much precision and thought and meticulous attention to detail

she embodies the attributes of her music
she is beautiful, powerful, fierce, loving, passionate

when she plays her music, she blocks everything around her
focusing solely on forming a dramatic symphony of wonder and delight
not giving attention to her anxious wandering mind

she closes her eyes to take everything around her in
the beautiful feeling of her fingers sliding along the keys
the wood smell of her reed atop her instrument
the exquisite attachment she feels towards her silver plated beauty
the passion she feels in the deepest part of her heart when she lets her emotions flow through her horn

she plays her music seemingly effortlessly
although so much effort is put into her meticulous practice

she believes her purpose is to form chords and tones of delight,
because its all she has ever loved doing
music is her one true and deep passion
her one true love

she wears her emotions on her sleeve and everyone thinks they understand her
but she is far too complex to see straight through
nobody knows the pain she has been through
nobody knows the despair that has passed her
nobody knows the hell she has suffered

she finds that it is not very hard for others to tear her apart,
but music mends the holes inflicted on her soul
when she feels like she is drowning, music saves her
when she feels like she is falling, music picks her up

she uses her emotions to strengthen her music
to show her deepest hidden wounds and to free herself from the sorrow that has been inflicted upon her

her entire story is too complex to fully comprehend,
but music allows her to let her feelings out in a comprehensive way

music heals her heart and soul
it saves her from any pain that may arise
music is her everything
her life, her passion, her utmost talent, her world
her personal purpose at this time
her coping mechanism to fight the cruel world surrounding her
John Stevens Dec 2013
© 1-07-04 John Stevens
He waits at the door of my heart this hour
Knocking so gently for me.
To answer the call, through His power
To be all I can be.          
The choice is mine to make this hour.
To accept or reject His love.      
The choice I make for eternity
Will decide my life for above.

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  

Will I invite Him in only on Sunday
And set Him close to the door?
Then invite Him out when church is over
When no one's looking any more?
Will I when Monday morning comes
Forget the lessons He taught?
Of love, forgiveness, grace and more
By His blood on the Cross He bought.

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  

Will I do the right and shun the wrong
In the work that I perform?
Not leave my faith on a hook by the door
Until the next Sunday morn.
Will I park Him outside some of the doors
Of my favorite places to be?
And pretend it is ok to do the things,
I'm ashamed for Jesus to see?

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  

The lessons I have learned today
Must not be shelved tomorrow.
For I've been set free to do His will
In all happiness and sorrow.
He cleansed my heart- all the rooms.
And the closets so dark today.
His love shone 'round in all the corners
The gloom and darkness went away

(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will open my heart today

I will open the door, invite Him in.
I will give Him the key to my heart's door
I will give Him control of all my life.
I will love Him forever and more.
I will listen to His every whisper.
I will do His thoughts for me.
I will praise His Holy name this hour.
I will shine His light for others to see.

(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will open my heart today

When my heart is breaking from the pain
Of things in my life I start.
He is there the moment I breathe His name
He mends my broken heart.
I have been forgiven by His blood
My sin on the cross He bore.
I have been forgiven, cleansed by His blood
I bare the guilt no more.
Chorus ?  

I have been forgiven..    
Praise His Holy Name.                
I am forgiven.........
Thank you Jesus, today.

He waits at the door   Calling for you
To open your heart     To let Him in.

What will you do?       What will you say?

Version 03-29-2004

— The End —