your vision, your voice
People think sports are fun
Easy
Relaxing
But the truth is
It isn’t always that way
It is
Hard Work
Pain
Torture
Suffering
dedication
Agony
Distress
Every.
Single.
Day.
I can’t stop
Keep running
Keep pushing
Keep going
I can’t help but hope
To hope that this isn’t a waste of time
To hope that I am not just doing this for no reason
I hope
I hope this all works out
Imagine the world
In September skies
Almost right as rain
Imagine the Sahara Sun
Near a Texas rose
And all the gothic gold
Imagine a Belgian waffle
And a plumberri
Growing on a Tynewood
Imagine the winter chill
And a big snow bank
And of course a starry night
Imagine some island time
Waves are river rough
And it’s bayside blue
Imagine a blue nile
Plus a deep sea
And a ship’s harbour
Now I lay in
wayward winds
Wishing the the world
By a bonfire
Shall I compare thee to a winters’ night?
veiled behind a mask of pure
That drown the showings of light
Born from the fallen stars
and more brutal than the winds
Amid a feeling cruel and vicious
Like the punishment of our sins
Shrouded in the shadows
Hidden somewhere out of sight
As the sun falls out of focus
Takes its place, a wintry night
Nutella,
Sticky, gooey,
Creamy and ooey.
Nutella,
A chocolate dream, so good,
I want to let out a scream!
Nutella,
Spread it out on your bread,
But be careful not to tread
Off the bread’s edge.
Nutella,
How I wish to eat your
Chocolate paradise sensation,
Oh! I cannot resist my temptation.
Nutella,
Good on waffles, ice cream, pancakes,
Pretzels, and strawberries, just not on steaks!
Nutella,
You’re delicious, thrilling, sensation,
I’m sure the whole nation
Loves this tasty creation.
Nutella
The thing
About time
is that it
Never
Goes away
It remains
With you
Taunting
With every
Move
You try to
ignore it
While it
Keeps coming
Back
Just when
You thought
It’s over
It’s not
Never is
But when its
Finally gone
You never knew
How much
You missed it
I can feel the summer breeze
The sun shining on my skin
Brushing away the bees
I feel myself grin
I can feel the summer joy
As I sit in my porch chair
I can’t help but enjoy
The feeling in the air
I can feel the summer sun
Jumping into the ocean water
The new season has begun
The days become longer
I can feel the summer sand
In this paradise place
I’m getting tanned
Sunshine beaming on my face
I can feel the summer waves
Crashing against me
The sun feels like flames
As I run into the sea
I can feel the summer heat
Salty hair don’t care
Eating my summer treat
As I’m back in my summer chair
It’s time for bed, the moon wakes up.
The stars arise,
Drowning out the cries
Of the night animals.
It’s time for bed I shut my eyes
But darkness does not come.
Instead I find myself staring at the ceiling and wondering, hoping,
That darkness will find my eyes.
It’s time for bed I shut my eyes,
this time it comes.
Engulfs me in a blanket full of stars, and soon, the darkness,
it finds my eyes.
Music is beautiful
The obscure patterns of numbers can convey emotions
Anything is possible
These sequences of pure frequencies are the keys to life
Thousands of years of evolution have created hearing
Our ears were built to hear danger
But now we live without the constant fear of death
Now we can’t live without music
The man from the sewer
was only 4 feet tall
maybe even a fewer.
By the time he was 28
only 70 pounds was his weight.
People wondered why he grew so slight
I think it was a lack of sunlight.
The man from the sewer
looked like a pile of garbage
especially to an outside viewer.
His clothes were mostly torn
and smelled of week-old corn.
Some question what led him down this path
I think his mother never gave him a proper bath.
Achilles smiled when he was shot
He smiled, picturing Paris, atop the walls of Troy
That young prince
Smiling with great pride, the bow firm in his grasp
He had killed the greatest of the greeks
Everyone who fought beside Achilles
Said he was made for battle
Seeing his spear spin in the air
With such great speed
His armor, carried so many deaths, so many souls
Yet it weighed nothing on his shoulders
His feet, quick in their movements
Some divine dance, a performance even Apollo could not match
He was only a boy, focused, clear cut with his movements
Too naïve to notice
That the set was a battlefield