Indecent Exposure..

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be able to breathe carelessly? to live carelessly? to be careless? But instead to have your life handed to you on a platter, when it can just as easily drift away like the pedals of a dieing flower. The sun hides her eyes from the darkness of the clouds that present themselves in front of her. The wind slowly caresses your exposed face, and wipes away all your dreams , with his attempt to live carelessly. Cars whiz on by , you keep on walking, thinking to yourself, is this what it takes to live carelessly, what is breathing carelessly when you can particularily breathe? The sun opens her eyes, and her rays gleam across your face, the clouds scurry away, the wind is now a mere breeze the once dieing flower raises her pedals with a glimpse of a new life. You ask yourself 'what am i doing, to live carelessly is to live life on the edge, but if that edge brings you too close, there is no life to live carelessly''. you take that careless breathe, the one thing in life you don't have to think about in order to survive, it just happens...carelessly. carelessly living, carelessly breathing, careless! It;s the indecent exposure to the careless sign of a helpless life.

Love struck

I discovered today..
I've been struck by cupids arrow.. One that dug right in, it came without notice, but it seems like it's here to stay. I'd like to tell him to fly the fuck off but what sense is there in that? But how do I proove that ? I'll tell you how.. Cupid, cupid's a murderer. A sneaky one at that, he should be on america's most wanted. Cute and loveable on the outside, but one hell of a bastard on the inside. I know we should view love as the highlight of our lives, but how is that possible when all it does is cause pain, and eventually turn to hate? Cupid. Cupid. Cupid. He goes around striking young alike with the worst pain of all , the most beautiful thing of all.. the most murderous thing of all. Love. Love. Love. Life, love, life. Without life there would be no love. Without love there would be no life. With hate there would be no love. With hate there would be no life. Without life there would be no hate. Cupid. Cupid. Cupid. Love. Hate. Life. Cupid's arrows, cupid's pain. The most painful beautiful thing. Love.

Tears of heaven

Two snowflakes, not one alike, millions of raindrops, all are identical. Walking alone on a cold blustery day with a sweater and a scarf, the snow whipping at your uncovered face and hands. Such a horrible feeling yet such an amazing accomplish. Witnessing god's most beautiful creation with not a care in the world.

Walking with your back against the wind, seeking shelter from the tears of heaven, bus shelters overflowing with people, you don't dare look them in the eye. You don't hide your tears, why should you, the rain drops hide all visible emotion.

Maybe god's idea was to get us thinking how two simple things that are so alike yet so different, represent the two biggest things in life. Snowflakes, being happiness. When I think of snow I think of the smiles of little children, hot chocolate and the late nights by the fire. Raindrops being saddeness. As if at that time of the day everyone in the world was shedding a tear. With each single tear we could cry our own rivers and then drown the whole world.

This place we call home would be so blank and so cold hearted, if we never experienced having to walk in the snow up to our knees to work, or missed that last bus home and had to walk six miles in the rain. Maybe life is that simple. Maybe we just don't think.

Two snowflakes, and millions of raindrops. I guess they have more similarities than differences, but don't we all?

Life has it's hidden symbolic structures, it takes the simplest of minds to discover such things.

lost but never forgotten

I wrote this this week in my writing class at school, its about a random soldier in the first world war.

His birth brought his mother to tears.
Diapers, toys, playing with neighborhood boys.
On his tenth birthday, his father died, but he had no time to cry.
He became the man of the house. His siblings asking “when is daddy coming home”.

Education was a mere thought. He became a dropout by the age of twelve.
He received some news on his sixteenth birthday.
Two weeks later he kissed his mother goodbye.
Not knowing he’d never return or what he was doing to his family.

The war made a man out of the boy. He prayed for his family and himself daily
In a way he needed that connection with God.

Letters from home flashed back to his childhood.
He missed being Dad’s bud, and Mom’s baby.
Wiping his tears, head held high, he’d head back into battle.

Questions embedded in his mind.
What if he didn’t survive? What would it do to his family?
The boy inside the man had enough. He wanted to return home.
His wish was granted. Months after he left home, he’d be on that boat back to Newfoundland.

Days short of his homecoming his men went into battle. Sixty-eight men were left untouched by he was not one of them.

He came into the world with a cry that brought his mother to tears.
Years later her little boy was lost forever.Lost but never forgotten.