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What will happen when everything there is to write is written. And everything there is to sing is sung. What will happen when everything there is to do is done. And everything there is to say is said.
So, you died. You had taken a few more steps across the moss-infested slimy planks. They were roughly entwined, and heaved under even the subtlest weights, crackling with bursting air pockets.
The earth; a place of death and a place of birth. It's so beautiful, With its trees that tower over us like emerald skyscrapers, its oceans so true and blue, And the animals of all shapes and sizes.
Why do we need all these items and ideas to snare our souls. Why do we argue so much over things. Why do we always crave more. The perfect shoe defines me. The perfect dog to bark who I am.
Sometimes I wish I was born into an amazon tribe or I could be a Tibetan monk. I want a simple life cut off from the 21st century.
We might be infinite. Sometimes we feel we are. But when all we read about is death and destruction and horror in our world, we know we will come to an end soon enough.
If a windowpane is only sand Heated, compressed, combined, If paper is only a tree Gone through the same demise, If fear is just a memory Manifested in the dark, If home is just a little shack For...
Not everyone can live the way you do. Not everyone is as healthy as you. But if I was I wouldn't be throwing it away on drugs and cigarets and alcohol. I wouldn't do any of those things.
Take a chance, Roll the dice Doesn't matter to me what you get, But you can't spin twice Take what you get, but you must live with what you take God sure doesn't care if it's a mistake Trudging along...
Eyes burn with passion A muse talking to my soul, my soul forcing my hands to type these words. Premonitions, theories, thoughts, revolution all pouring onto my papers.
Put your hand over your heart. Feal rhythm and the beat. Each time you feel that pound. A living soul falls to the ground. Heart no longer thumping making their sound.
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.
In my next life i want to live it backwards.You start out dead and get that out the way.Then you wake up in an old peoples home feeling better every day.You get kicked out for being too healthy.Go...
#household Born unto this world All new and pure Growing up Of life we learn more Who we are Can be defined By nurture and nature Are we bad or kind.
A world inside a bubble. Protected from life, Claimed as your own, But without the the undesirable pain and suffering. Your world based on a lie of a reality of your choosing.
Show me a man Who is content in life And I'll show you a man Who relies on his wife Show me a man When at work is good And I'll show you a man Who's only there for his food Show me a man Who has a...
I feel as if I'm fading, My shadow only a shading. That my purpose has gone, That my presence is wrong. My arms have turned invisible... Being unseen is miserable. But I no longer exist...
What if there was a world with no fat And all health. What if there was a world with no bullies And all nice people. What if there was a world with no hate And all love.
What makes us more than fundamental bone and skin. Our memories, our emotions, and our love.
Time rules our life without a thought ,. If only the preciousness could be bought ,. without even knowing, it rules your being,. As it ticks on without you seeing.
That's life, that's what people say. I'm a little unstable, get out my way. I'm staring at the moon, I lost April and May and now I'm stuck in June. That's life, as dull as it seems.
Do we have a fate. A life set out, Do we have a destiny, That He may shout. Is there a path. To follow its wind, Is there a certainty, Or a definite kind. Are we just travellers. Born to our roads.
Somewhere. Whereby dogs be waiting wildly. A cool breeze bending grass blades mildly. There you'll find me playing childly. And when at last I pause to ponder. All those people passing yonder.
Like the peeling paint, the screeching gate, the littered streets, the lying cheats, society is falling, hard with little resistance, a dense rock into a polluted river, thick with shameless uncare.