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Posted: 6/13/2007 8:47:49 AM | This is actually the lyrics to one of my favorite songs.... sorry folks but I have a very dark side that I dont like to let come out but sometimes things just happen:
Fade To Black
Life it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things are not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filing me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now He's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death Greets me warm, now I will just say good-bye
~Toni~ | |
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Posted: 6/14/2007 10:15:11 PM | Life is…
What you make of it…
Risks that one often takes…
Result in regrets and mistakes…
Oh, the choices one has made…
Are forgiven and will fade…
Past, present and the undone…
No longer will hurt anyone…
For living life has shown the way…
To try and keep the pain away…
Life is filled with learning…
And overcome with yearning…
To be loved and respected…
With all mistakes corrected…
Because of God‘s given gift…
Now is the time of life to lift…
Ourselves to a place of pure love…
With the help of God above…
Lori | |
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Posted: 6/15/2007 6:12:38 AM | this was written by my good friend and adopted mom anneke
IRON ROSE
Heavy but with delicate petals a beautiful bronze colored rose,
Wrought by the calloused hands of a young blacksmith.
A skill learned from the old masters.
In the olden days when this country just started,
The blacksmith was the center of the town.
The utensils needed by the farmers and townspeople,
From horseshoes, to racks, for pots and pans, iron skillets
Thongs for the open fire places were but a few of the items
Their skillful hands could make. An Artisan, inventor, improviser
Hot and sweaty, black with soot, the blacksmith
Was the most admired and needed man in town.
Industry took over. Sears Catalog came along to compete
With cheaper prices and inferior machine made items
That were good enough and easier on the budget.
Eventually, the blacksmith faded in the background.
However few people know that outside the Historical museums,
Or artificially enacted scenes in tourist towns,
There are still a few tradesmen left who make their living
Working with their hands over open fires creating the best
Custom made work available. The creator of the Rose
Is proud of his trade, he can still invent and adapt as needed
This handsome muscular strapping young man,
Has a passion for making roses and knives,
The best knives you can get only
From the Master, The Blacksmith.
Anneke August 2006-08-02 | |
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Posted: 6/19/2007 7:20:30 PM | High on bleak, stony rag,
Unmoving, he sits astride
His ragged coated pony.
Only telltale frozen breaths,
Separate them from
The still, winter black boles
Of ancient leafless trees.
The pony, blown and lame,
Stands with lowered head,
Ears flattened to the sound
Of a distant wolf pack.
The man on his back,
All weapons lost,
Ignores the trickling blood
From savage wounds,
Mingling his war paint.
Eyes burning fiercely
He strains to find
The sign he seeks:
Behind, the sound of enemy
Draws ever closer.
At last, faith rewarded,
He sees far below
In the deep valley,
Arriving at the edge
Of the fast flowing river,
The great she bear
With two gamboling cubs:
To fish the racing salmon,
Drawn relentlessly toward
Their age-old spawning ground.
Silently, the wounded brave
Offers his final prayer
To the eternal clan bear;
Totem and guardian
Of his battle slain tribe.
The enemy, exultant,
Are almost upon him,
Yet he looks not behind:
He sees only the Great Spirit,
Surrounding him kindly
In loving, firm embrace.
While the enemy closes in,
He straightens himself;
His voice rings loud and clear,
Echoing across the land
To the distant cloudless sky.
One last defiant war cry
As he spurs on his pony,
And leaps...
Into the world of his ancestors.
"The Warrior" by Paiute_Sun | |
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Posted: 6/24/2007 10:37:08 PM | *´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
This poem is very sweet.
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
If I could catch a rainbow
I would do it just for you
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
And share with you its beauty
On the days you're feeling blue.
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own;
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
A place to find serenity,
A place to be alone.
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
If I could take your troubles
I would toss them in the sea,
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
But all these things I'm finding
are impossible for me.
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair,
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸
.•*´¨`*• .¸♥?.•*´¨`*•.¸
But let me be what I know best,
A friend who's always there.
*´¨`*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¨`*•. ¸♥?¨`*•.¸♥♥¸ | |
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Posted: 3/24/2008 5:56:17 PM | “The Dream”
It’s back, it’s here. It’s haunting her soul. The dream won’t stop she can’t let it go.
Like a razor in a fire. It burns deep, the darkness is there. Black, and cold, but seems somehow warm. Icy rivers of tears turn gray ash dark.
I wish with all my heart I could just forget, and not hear the voices screaming in my head.
That my haunted dream would some how become calm.
The chill runs over me, as the flames burn on.
I’m trapped inside my own true thoughts, my mind keeps racing. I never stops.
Someone calling, someone is there. If only the evil would just depart.
He is after one thing, the love in her heart.
He wants to take her hurting soul, but only if she gives it all.
Should she give in to the darkness, should she give him her soul?
Will she forever be lost in a world that’s so cold?
The strength and the courage that once held her heart is lost in a dream of darkness, and thought.
She reaches for him, his laughter cries out, the evil was there, her soul she gave out.
She simply give in, and the darkness took over. Silently living in her own little hell.
Nothing seemed worthy, and nothing was gained, she merely gave in to her own simple pains.
The love that was lost, and woman give in, now she lives in a world of darkness. Her soul is with him.
Written and copywrited by Michelle | |
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Posted: 3/25/2008 4:48:06 PM | I wrote this one a long time ago, but it seems to still be true!!!
I Could….
I could tell you a story but you don’t care to hear,
I could cry on your shoulder, but you wont let me near
I could tell you about triumph, but you just turn away,
I could show you the night, but you only see the day,
I could convince you of heaven, but you would rather live in hell
I could show you friendship, but you don’t know me that well
I could show you the sun, but you prefer the rain,
I could tell you youre crazy, while you argue that youre sane
I could sing you a song, but you are deaf to my melody
I could show you my eyes, but you are too blind to see me
I could show you the flowers, but you’d rather roll in the weeds,
I could write you another letter, that you wont bother to read
I could show you my loyalty, but you’d accuse me of treason,
I could run far away, but I am devoid of all reason,
I could tell you to stand straight, but you lie in a curl
I could tell you to live, but you are dead in my world… | |
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Posted: 3/25/2008 6:03:59 PM | Here is a poem I worte a few years back. I hope you enjoy it... Paul
Sleep At Night
As I lay me down to sleep at night;
My dreams seem to come alive.
Then the woman who is only in my mind;
Comes to see me every night and I feel so revived.
As we while away the hours of my slumber;
My best friend is always with me.
If only in my mind I know she's there;
And my love for her I so decree!
Her smile could light the earth for days;
To see her happy, brightens me so.
I know she really exists in the world;
And the day will come when we say hello.
Until that time we will converse in dreams;
Till the day she and I meet.
Then our journey of true love and passion;
Will combine in something that will be so sweet. | |
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