True Art

Every time that I look at you, I see true beauty,

I try to tell you what I see but it comes out crudely.

What I see when i look at you,

Is something that in words cannot be expressed true.

Beauty that surpasses expression is quite rare,

You have it girl and you don’t seem to care.

You see a blank canvas that needs to be painted,

I think with your own reflection you need to get acquainted.

The work of art is you and your self,

but you see a canvas yet to be taken off the shelf. 

What you need to realize that is that you are the work of art,

There’s nothing to be added, nothing to take apart.

The creating you want to do is mere defacing,

This wonderful work of art that the master is tracing.

You wouldn’t spray paint a work in the louvre,

So against yourself don’t make this move.

See yourself for the work of art you are,

There’s qualities in your creation far above par.

Don’t ruin the work with more of this ink stain,

For to those that see your beauty you cause pain.

True beauty is a joy, this you should not doubt,

But beauty defaced, is not what I’m about.

Be confident in your beauty, know your worth,

Don’t deface yourself with cheap shit of this earth.

12th Street Manor

       The tree in the middle of the yard was a flowering weeping cherry. The tree was half naked, shedding its coat of white flowers in preparation for the winter. The green grass surrounding the tree already looked as if they had been overcome by the embrace of winter, the flowers already fallen from the tree gracefully blanketing the ground around the base. This tree and the green grass were the only signs of life observable in this lowly front yard. The bushes that had been planted between the grass and the street, seemed to have once served as a barrier between the two; However now they were dead, brown and dried up. The planter boxes in front of the house contained no growth, not even weeds; the soil spent from years of miscare and abuse. This small yet majestic tree graced the front yard of a very sad house. This house, whose once white vinyl siding was now faded and yellow, was skirted by caked on mud. The roof of the house was in a terrible state of disrepair. Like the freckles on the face of a red headed little girl, so was the roof of the house spotted with the places where shingles were missing. The remaining shingles held together only by a closely knit rug of moss. Like a closed off portal into the soul of the house, the large front window was covered by tattered black drapes. Any hope that light may have possessed of entering the house, completely cut off. The driveway of this lowly little house was makeshift at best. Two concrete strips separated by gravel were all that were in place for any arriving personnel. The garage that sat next to the house was worn, old, and used. The siding of the garage was in a state of disrepair comparable to that of the house. No car was parked in the sad little driveway. Hundreds of newspapers were strewn across the front lawn. This poor old house seemed to be abandoned; forgotten in the chaos of twenty-first century life. 

This lonely old house had once played stage for many great adventures. There were space battles, and car races, and great fortresses constructed within those now sad four walls. The bathroom inside that house was host to many a scraped knee, and bruised elbow. The basement of that house had to be the smartest basement in the world for all of the lessons learned within it. The garage had once stored all of the wonderful tools of childhood. The driveway used to be ridden on by bikes and scooters and skateboards, never growing tired of the attention. The front lawn of the poor old house had once looked on at the games of tag, the squirt gun fights, and the wrestling matches. This poor old house had not always been so poor and old. It had once been a great and mighty house, one capable of protecting from the world outside its walls. This house was my childhood home. 

For a Falling Friend

What is this, this thing that you have become?

This girl I see before me needs to be redone,

you aren’t the girl that I thought I knew, 

The real you no longer comes through.

Suckered into the world that surrounds you,

I’m on the outside feeling like there’s nothing I can do

You weren’t supposed to fall victim to the enticements,

You no longer abhor that worlds revilements.

I attempt to save you from the fire

But to come out has to be your desire,

 I try to help, but I can only get so close.

I just hope it happens before you become comatose.

Come, Come, Come out from the fire.

I want to rescue you from your own desire.

with each passing day you go further from the light

quickly, quickly, come back to what’s right.

These unhealthy habits you must retire

with each day the situation become more dire

It breaks my heart when I look at you gone,

knowing you knew the consequences of your wrong

What was that? a flicker of hope?

it seams to me you aren’t content to just cope.

Its not too late for you to turn around,

You could still very well be homeward bound.

Please just give up this path that you’ve chosen,

I’m a waitin’ for ya, just sittin’ here composin’

I’ll welcome you back with open arms,

No more of this runnin round, settin’ off alarms.

I wanna see the person I know you truly are,

I know that girl ain’t that far.

It’s up to you now, you gotta make a choice,

I know you hear me from the inside, I ain’t just a voice.

The decision is your’s, I leave you to it now,

and with that I take my bow.

Welcome

     Well, this is my blog. I am excited to try something new. This is just a place for me to put up writings, stories, and poems. I hope to continually write new things, and post them here as I come up with them for feedback and comments. I hope you enjoy, and I welcome you on this journey with me.