Appreciate what is around you. Stop for a second, even two everyday just to have a gander. Beauty was there before diesel trucks existed. And it never left.
Don't look in the mirror too much, you're attached to this face for the rest of your days. Have a look at someone else's. The story it tells, the emotions it bears.
Never ceases to amaze me what you can find.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
These boots are made for feeling.
Walk a day in somebody else's shoes.
Take a hike in them.
Spend a moment.
Then you will feel.
Feel what it's like to take the words you dish out.
Get your own helping.
A serving the size of your words.
One that yells them back at you from a cold china plate.
Feel them.
Now, don't do it again.
Take a hike in them.
Spend a moment.
Then you will feel.
Feel what it's like to take the words you dish out.
Get your own helping.
A serving the size of your words.
One that yells them back at you from a cold china plate.
Feel them.
Now, don't do it again.
Monday, February 15, 2010
"Yellow, why?"
A heart that weeps.
A soul that's broken.
Nostalgic is the love for someone, something, anything.
It's a mindless job, the hands do and the brain fades.
What was once talent and genius is now passionless. But it provides a nice income.
Love or money.
Money buys you stuff. Lots of stuff. Cluttering appears not only in a house.
But love is priceless. Though, it won't buy you a thing.
Funny how the best feeling, emotion and gift in the world can never be bought or sold.
I can hear the sorrow in his voice, as tears start to well in mine. I can see the effort, know it's not going to waste.
Don't stop trying, there's not just another side, there's as many as you like.
The world isn't black and white.
It's a mellow yellow.
A tickeled pink.
The blue moon.
A whiter shade of pale.
The greenest grass.
Your face lights up, as it does sometimes. Yellow is written all over it.
Remember what made you happy.
Stop making it easy to remember the bad things and forget the best. Stop, please.
Know how much you make me cry with laughter. And how much your words helped me when I was halfway across the globe.
Know how they made me cry with joy to know you have always been here, thinking of me when you should've been thinking of yourself.
I would never wish you any different, just happiness.
Words may never have made much sense but hopefully you stumble upon this one day in your office and
maybe you'll stop and smile. Like you do. And your face lights up, and writes its' yellow.
A soul that's broken.
Nostalgic is the love for someone, something, anything.
It's a mindless job, the hands do and the brain fades.
What was once talent and genius is now passionless. But it provides a nice income.
Love or money.
Money buys you stuff. Lots of stuff. Cluttering appears not only in a house.
But love is priceless. Though, it won't buy you a thing.
Funny how the best feeling, emotion and gift in the world can never be bought or sold.
I can hear the sorrow in his voice, as tears start to well in mine. I can see the effort, know it's not going to waste.
Don't stop trying, there's not just another side, there's as many as you like.
The world isn't black and white.
It's a mellow yellow.
A tickeled pink.
The blue moon.
A whiter shade of pale.
The greenest grass.
Your face lights up, as it does sometimes. Yellow is written all over it.
Remember what made you happy.
Stop making it easy to remember the bad things and forget the best. Stop, please.
Know how much you make me cry with laughter. And how much your words helped me when I was halfway across the globe.
Know how they made me cry with joy to know you have always been here, thinking of me when you should've been thinking of yourself.
I would never wish you any different, just happiness.
Words may never have made much sense but hopefully you stumble upon this one day in your office and
maybe you'll stop and smile. Like you do. And your face lights up, and writes its' yellow.
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