the holy starve for youths optimism, now we die for the moment
the graduation of wisdoms
bartered future soul, faith lives by time’s code, for every shortcut simply shortly straightened destiny’s helix of colorful commentary
all is left
joyous sinicism, not even worth talking about, thanking God for the gift you don’t want to unwrap…you know what they say – it’s the thought that counts
but procrastinated unfair circumstances age the lazy addicts, we are so self centered to do unto others, you can’t earn karma like a 3 year old with heart failure
people are the devils dramatic obstacles so that you slowly get over the original quest you gave up everything for, short of the glory
the end times will eat up our magic as the art of devine inspiration is sold out one content underachiever at a time
whom deserves fame with God, the devil has nothing better to do than you…his pride seeks our fading away tripping over the shame of mishaps, as he has
add humble to dull shame for pride polishes it up for even your most love blind supporters, before flesh and distance can’t recognize you the same anymore,
its not about money, it is all about time and it leaves this world every second if only we could have perception cherished tightly packed minutes-
like the long summer days who’s sunsets seemed to last forever with their hints of fall
I should have died more than a few times-
enough to prove mathmatic’s divides into a count down at base equation, lets us know how short we are, and how far we’ve fallen-
While we should be healing the sick and walking on water
Thank your mother for hiding away those precious parts of you you were born with such stars in your eyes
so happy to give them away for just to see someone smile you want to be like when you get older so far away and not soon enough
now I tap the holidays and first times and old selfs, a writer is a miner and a jeweler-
but cursed in his own little world
never, to pop the question, or snap the box or softly tickle the necklace with the clasp across skin soft as heaven’s clouds
we can’t steal eachothers traits or heritage like baubbles, only enough room to hold your own but we give them and steal when there are no witnesses,
now no one is there to remind you, and you get to look back on memories as if those were the times, the same as then growing fat off that greener pasture
Life is what you make of it, caution even the human soul is made to be broken though, earth will burn out like a body but you can’t stop
the revolution of this evolution
As the troubadours retire their patchwork admirerers will tell the tales’ of their groundbreaking adventures, you had to be there but nobody cares
the people that talk about themselves strategically are the ones that want to hear your story and are offering tid bits to curiosity
careful not to intimidate the not so grateful, I’ll find a home for it,
you can’t even give something away to the cool when a failure wants something mainly because you were a part of it
and the flag boy troops on,
the only one who is always there for you in a world where our bravest are sent to die with a full head of steam and the poets commit suicide -
thats not very comforting from someone who is selling themselves to you as comforting, you don’t want to taste that mindset-
Not the wordly brand name even for a little bit, you’ll come out with sponsors who make much more profit in the long run…the rich get royal
the poor new restrictions to keep your reflections shuffled away long enough to see your true beauty, it takes the real thing to compare the fakes,
as the originals are measured for cutting corners while the distraction of the side show showers the swine with pearls
money makes everybody forget it was more than that,
and the ones that come out on top are considered the success and assumed to be chosen ones,
but the movement of the movement died with them
and you don’t know him, he spread like a foundation, they grow only higher like babylon seeking God in the only way they can outsmart him
as if your Father does not know what his son is doing
Scales on your eyes like spinning roulette wheels
you don’t even want to know how it feels just as long as I am as hurt and alone as he is,
your unsurmountable disaster only you could have fighted all by yourself, so you beat yourself up until your jealousy made you feel inadequate-
pretty confusing trying to be better than yourself
I can see why you want every one else to know their shortcomings, you’d be so ahead of the game, there doesn’t always have to be a loser in a game
it is not about head to head competition, find your niche in the inevitable,
just so you know, you are usually the prophet
and a luke warm life leads to a mediocre heaven and that is the hell of it
