Human Nature

Everyone's Soul still Dies


someone else is wearing his smile

even though years ago it went out of style

he was the sacrifice all these years

they were laughing while he was in tears

he was the butt of all of their jokes every day

and he was the center of all the mind games they would play

and maybe that's why he went a little crazy

cause everyone who hurts breaks eventually


We are always looking for someone to blame

anything we can do to try to ease our pain

and maybe after we point our finger we'll finally realize

that it doesn't change anything no it doesn't change anything

everyone's soul still dies

she wants to be pretty like the models in magazines

so she starts on a diet and sacrifices her self esteem

she goes days without eating feeling so in control

she doesn't realize she has a problem as it takes it's toll

she just watches the numbers on the scale drop more and more

until one day she passes out on her bedrooom floor

we can blame the media, we can blame celeberties

for all the people who live with this disease


Everyone who's hurting and in pain

don't be so quick to pass the blame

cause it doesn't help end your misery

we can't keep blaming everything on society


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Darkness Stays

My soul is always with me

In the moonlight, in the breezes,

In all the quiet places

Where time and space will place me.

Faces, once around me, all around me,

Have dissipated in the haze

Of a welcome morning.

I am never alone,

Even in the densest crowd.

My soul is my company,

My companion and my shroud.

But more than that, a proxy,

An ambassador from above,

A little sliver of existence

Sprung from sacred satisfaction.

It is me, yet it is not me,

More likely to be charity

By word and thought and deed

Than the fleshy prison

It calls "me."

It instills the tendency

To caw and weep and grin

At universal connection,

And yet it does not overextend

Affection, crossing lines

To consternation, to chagrin.

"Close your eyes," it tells me

"To wickedness and sin.  

You are not part of evil

And there is no greed within."

So I humour my soul by smiling,

Always nodding, I concur.

But somewhere there's a secret chamber

In the dark part of my heart

That my soul has never seen,

A place it's never been,

Never will be if I say,

And under lock and key

Of blood and beating one would see

The faintest taint of sickness

That's within humanity.

I don't condemn my rage,

Though few others are justified,

And I have gladly lied,

Without grief, without guilt,

Without shame and without blame,

If it would spare a wound

Or inconvenience.

I am righteous in my anger

And holy in my deceit,

For love is the fuel

Of my heart-fire,

And love's the conflagration

That will leap and swoop

And all-too-soon consume

This fleshy prison-pyre.

And when I am but ashes

My chamber, it will open

And my darkness will erupt,

A spray of sable splendour

Set to seize my simple soul

As it ascends against the toll

Of gravity and grave,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

First poem I've written in months.  I wanted to touch on spirituality and human nature in the context of my own belief system.  Hopefully this will inspire reflection.  Also, it's just really fun to read aloud, in my opinion.  Definitely some magic at work here.

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(T. Beechey)

A little child dressed in rags and his mother drags him by the arm
Alarming cries come from the child as the people filed past,lost in charm
And all the people stopped and stared but no one dared to intervene
They were in between points A and B and they couldn't see beyond their scene

A young girl fending off the blows of her supposed one true love
Above the city sounds,she cries as passerby walk hand-in-glove
And all the people saw and looked but no one took the time to care
Only here and there was all they knew,in between the two just wasn't there

An old man lying on the ground and,strewn around his body,lies
A rather sizeable pool of blood and,to the onlooker flood,comes his cries
And all the people paused to gawk but no one walked outside their lines
In their nine-to-five shuffle up and down through the town past the welcoming signs

A young man mangled in a ditch,his cries a pitch beyond the sun
Hit and run and left to die before the watchful eye of everyone
And all the people thoughtlessly spied without breaking stride or losing pace
In their race to go nowhere at all,but to fall behind would take their space

A city minus four bright lives who might have survived with half a chance
But a passing glance was all they got from those caught up in circumstance
And all the people stood as one --- "What could we have done?" they wondered aloud
From a cloud overhead a Voice proclaimed,"The same as I've done for all your crowd."

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afternoons like this

we live in afternoons like these

where we walk with folded arms and mercury

where we sit inside but next to the window

empty and aching and not knowing why

there are hollow tubes inside me

draining out color

loosening up strings that i’m sure have held

the guilt of many won fights

and enslaved words not bitten off

becoming prisoners of memory

and calluses on knuckles

and pieces of ourselves

and holes in plaster

that surround nerves and loves and homes

there are afternoons like these

when you learn you are not in love

and when you learn you are

when discovery is a tool for the absurd

rather than the logical system in which we live

what we discover lies not outside that window

but rather in the faces of the strangers

who sit across from us

drinking their lattes or maybe gins and tonic

lies in the sadness of their fortunes lost

and in the climaxes they may have

or may have never achieved

we are dyed hair

we are boob adjustments right before we catch his eye

we are what our friends like

and often what they wear

we are mostly dead

but sometimes so alive

on afternoons like this

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Give a Little Give a Little More

"A man of words

And not of deeds

Is like a garden

Full Of Weeds"

A man of deeds

And clay of heart

Will eventually dry

And fall apart

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The first verse I didn't write. I heard it as a quote off one of my teachers who probably got it from somewhere else, I don't know.
She said it to the class to make us feel guilty about all the stories we were making for not doing our work and out of the blue I hit her with my second verse (which was a spur of the moment off my head) and she had nothing to say back to that LOL.

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The Others

Step back, examine your view

imagine a life altered, where we are not the chosen few

poverty and crime tends to be a story of far away lands

all awhile not realising the future is in our hands

many don't bother to help, what could they do?

the pressure is on others, it doesn't concern you

but who are the others? And what are they waiting for?

Don't they realise many are knocking on Heaven's door?

we are the others

we are being waited on

one isn't so insignificant,

with one and one united

but who are the others? And what are they waiting for?

Don't they realise many are knocking on Heaven's door?

We are the others, but what are we waiting for?

Don't we realise many are knocking on Heaven's door?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Alot of people seem to think that problems around the world are either best left to other people or they feel there is nothing they can do to help.  But if everyone had this mentality, nothing would ever get done. We think that other people will solve the problem, but in fact we are the ones who need to act, we are the others.

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(T. Beechey)

I heard what they are saying when you are on the floor

And I find it so dismaying --- if they only knew you more

They'd never make the comments I've heard repeatedly

And it beings back the difference between the world and me

I've noticed all their glances as you come passing by

Thinking they have chances to be your one-night guy

And I don't understand why I hold a separate view

I see a gentle hand they only wish they knew

Why am I so different? Am I wrong or right?

I'm far from being innocent,but I can't find delight

In what's on the outside,what ninety-nine percent

See with lustful pride,I see what Heaven sent

I know what others are seeing when they look at you

And all their buddies agreeing they see the same thing,too

And I cannot comprehend why I don't see the same

I see a beautiful friend,they don't even know your name

Your name's unimportant,they'd just as soon forget

To them,you're nothing more than a conquest to be met

It doesn't make a bit to sense,it seems unreal to me

And it brings back the difference between the world and me

Why am I so different? Is it really a mistake?

I'm not saying I'm innocent but,to me,it seems so fake

To judge what's only showing,what ninety-nine percent

Never end up knowing,the angel Heaven sent

Maybe I'm to blame here cause it's very plain to see

In fact,I'd say it's crystal clear I'm the minority

I just can't imagine how they're even designed

To me,it seems so tragic to have a shallow mind

I see a angel winging her way into my heart

I hear a choir singing and I know I'm far apart

From what all my brethren feel and think about you,girl...

It makes me glad I'm different than the rest of the world

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Eraser Face

Verse 1:

You're disruptive and sad

You're quick to the cut

Day by day

You stand hill top high

And scream to those below

Take a glance up above

Every thing's ahead

Men to men alike

Nobody asked you

Nobody wants you

Everybody's a reject

Every thing's a joke

Laughing so taboo

Dropping dead off hand

Missiles raining

Exploding uninvited

You're a passed man

You aren't useful to me anymore.


When things glow

You take a step back

When steps crack

You fall on through

When friends collapse

You drop to your knees

When the world crumbles

You rise to your feet

Your life never got on paper

Your voice never got on tape

After fifty years of nothing

You completely lost your appeal.

Verse 2:

Follow through

It's new to you

A lot to learn,

It's all you've got

A string and a clip

A stick with a tip

Where've you gotten to?

Atop the skies

Falling down mountains

Blood keeps tumbling

Teeth keep grinding

Where's the progress?

Where are my results?

We're not so alike

It's taken me some time

and last I've stolen mine

Yet how can I define

that I'd follow a bass line

'Til the end of time

If it sounded just right.

Chorus -- Solo/Variation


Century man

Stuck in the sand

It's a little late

To get your story down

No regrets

Just disgrace

I'll leave you be

I'm not interested in you.

Chorus Variation:

When men glow

You take a step away

When a person cracks

You run for your life

When family collapses

You drop to your gut

When the world explodes

You become nothing

Your life never got on paper

Your voice never got on tape

After fifty years of nothing

You completely lost yourself.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Buzz cut!

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We are flowers of different colours

in a garden called the Earth,

scattered wild flowers in profusion,

every  one of us has worth.

We are flowers of divers seeding

sown in different times and places,

some have grown in sheltered gardens,

others out in open spaces.

We all bloom in different seasons:

some live always in the sun

ever showered with warm approval,

admiration always won.

Others live their lives in deserts

struggling vainly 'gainst the odds,

starved from birth of love's nutrition,

sucking moisture from dry sods.

Some must bloom on windy hillsides,

bent and bowed by every storm,

from the cold no wall to shield them,

shelterless from heat the norm.

Some have sprouted in life's meadow,

talents hidden in tall grass,

others, like a rose at showtime,

catch the eye of all who pass.

In every flower you can find beauty,

assortment makes the show complete.

Treasure each bloom in our garden,

every blossom is unique.

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