The Words That Makes You...And Breaks You: Poetry And Thoughts Bind Together
The optimist insists that we live in the best of worlds, the pessimist fears that he is right.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A house is not always a home
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. What they never tell you, however – what no one ever wants to bring up – is how much, and how deeply, it hurts. When someone you love and care for is far away from you, it’s like a piece of your heart has been torn away by some dark, unseen hand or force. The minutes are like years, and each lonely night stretches into eternity as you’re left to lie awake and wonder. Where are they now? What are they thinking about? Are they safe? Are they well? Are they thinking of you? These are questions that won’t be truly answered until the missing half of your heart walks back into your arms – or, on some unfortunate occasions, not at all.
And you worry. Even if there seems to be no rational reason to, you find yourself afraid that something will happen, no matter how impossible or how ridiculous that seems. You tell yourself over and over that everything’s fine, but despite your sound reasoning and good logic, you never quite convince yourself. It’s hard, missing someone while they’re gone, but at least you know you’ll see them again.
Unless, that is, the reason they’re missing is because they’ve been taken.
Then, there are no good comebacks to your worries. What if they’re hurt? What if they’re lost? What if they’re…? Some things you don’t even want to think about – but they’re there anyway, lurking in the back of your mind like a cancer that won’t go away, lying dormant but always ready to spring during a weak moment, or when you’ve let your guard down. But the worst part of all, perhaps, is that you always feel guilty – as if somehow it’s all your fault that it happened, as if you are the one putting them in danger. It’s hard to forget that you’re supposed to protect them, take care of them, save them – and even harder to forgive yourself.
There’s no place like home – especially after spending years away from it. Just that feeling of knowing where you are, of knowing you belong… it could bring a grown man to tears. Even the coldest of hearts has a soft spot for that which we call a home – no matter how small or how well-hidden, it’s there, somewhere. Though some of us are more inclined to venture out into the world than to stay put, even a wanderer’s path may lead him to where he belongs, if he only follows his heart… for a home, you must understand, is not simply just a house – nor is it necessarily where your roots lie. It is where you are welcome, where you are happy, where you are loved… and a place which you welcome and love in return. It is a sanctuary, a hiding place, a safe place… sometimes the only place in the world where you can relax and rest. Home is where your heart is.
A house is not always a home – after all, it’s not the walls and the roof that make a home, but rather what’s inside. Home may be a bench, a forest, a tree, or even the dark space under a sink. Depending on who you are, what you want, and where your heart lies, home can be anything, or anywhere… even inside your own head.
Who knew there was life beyond death? You never thought of it, never wanted to; You feared it above all other things. Yet now there is nothing left to fear, For there’s nothing left now to lose.
Where are you, what world have you found? A world of sand and sky and sun, A world away from the world you loved. You cannot hear the comforting song Of the waves that once were home.
Where is she, the one that you loved? She was taken, just as you were, too You’ve lost her again, and this time you know There is no hope of getting her back. She’s been taken from you for the last time.
What have you got left, when there’s nothing to lose? Not much but the clothes on your back. You’ve still got your compass, but what good is it When you’ve got nowhere left you can go? This is your home now, and that’s all you know.
Who knew there was pain beyond death? You never knew it, never wanted to; Yet now you are learning first-hand. For now there is nothing left to fear, Only emptiness, loneliness, despair.
But wait – what is it that has found you In a world you thought was barren? Something moves o’er the horizon, Something promising the chance to escape, A promise you know you can’t trust.
Is it real, or is it just another mirage? You’ve had hallucinations enough to last months, Memories of joys in your life of the past That you brought to life in your death. Yet this time the image won’t fade.
Is this just another cruel trick of your eyes? You’re afraid, so afraid to believe otherwise. Yet the promise you distrust continues to sail – Yes, sail over the waves of the sand. It is coming, though you doubt it, for you.
How is this possible, how can this be? Yet… what rules are there that prevent it? No logic lives in this dry world of desert, No reason to prove this can’t happen. Perhaps you are not as lost as you thought.
Who knew there was hope beyond death? You’d never guessed it, never wanted to find out, Yet now you can feel that it's true. For the ship that now comes for you at last Gives you hope for a new life past death.
The days add up while the night's sky sets up, the sun closes up, and I? Well, I grow up.
My Hands have changed, the shake now a measure of age, I thought I might but I'll never honestly always be right, And, I'm growing up.
The days linger, discovery unchanged. They’re still the SAME! Their Authority continues, thick, stuck, hung up on orders to care, And only, I'm growing up.
Fights with my soul, just based on new reasons, Love still hurts, rips and shreds my head to pieces, And only now, I'm growing up.
I trick everyone's ears away from my actual years, While I'll never be allowed to run in the rain, ever, And only now I, I'm growing up.
I realize, if only in vain, how everyone persists to be pretty perfectly insane, We'll always have abusive habits just like our kids, yet ours aren't suggested, And only now I realize, I'm growing up.
Mornings find companionship in a moaning groan, Yesterdays will endure forever as true lessons, And only now I realize this, I'm growing up.
Generations remain distorted with misunderstood relations, Accomplishment will always be a condiment for the opulent, And only now I realize this; I'm still growing up.
The days tally up, the night stars fall down while sun's smile brightens up, and me? Well I'll always still be growing up.
As we grow up, We learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed ever let you down probably will.. You'll fight with your best friend.. You will have your heart broken, probably more than once, and it's harder every time.. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken..
You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.
Found this surfing the web and it just hit me. That's the truth right there
De bor i våra huven. De små moraliska trafikpoliserna som vill bringa reda. Kanske har du stött på dem? De är raka i ryggen, bär oklanderlig uniform och vita handskar, och är alltid redo att bedöma hur vi sköter oss på fritiden. För nu är det ju vår. Och därmed ska de dåliga, fula moralist förkastliga handlingarna av typen "kolla-på-tv-hela-dan", dirigeras till den ena filen. Det Goda Levandet däremot (med sitt hurtiga toppluve-led-ord Friska Luften) Får färdas i den andra.
Trots att du innerst inne vet att det små poliserna går runt i en villfarlse- nämligen att de skulle finnas handlingar som, som oavsett konsekvenser, är fina/fula i sig- så slår du snabbt undan tanken att det som får dig att må bra (som att sova länge när du är trött) faktiskt skulle kunna vara bra. Istället köper du hela listan av bisarra kriterier alternativt betalar gladeligen med ditt dåliga samvete. Kritisera då? De är smått fantastiska: Grad av aktivitet(Ju högre desto bättre. Pilla sig i navlen - dåligt. Spela fotboll, jogga eller köra en runda mingolf - föredömligt). Tidpunkt på dygnet (Följa teveserier kvällstid - någorlunda acceptabelt. Samma serie på förmiddagen - spöstraff). Val av plats (En handling inom hus, tex ligga i horisontellt läge i sängen - usch. Identiskt handlig i en park - ahh bra där!). Sällskap (Gå o kolla nya "Pirates of the Caribbean" själv - aj aj aj. Släpa med dig valfri bekant i tolvårsåldern - betydligt mer reko). Historia (Här ruvar den lustiga föreställningen att äldre aktiveter, typ lägga pussel eller läsa ”en god bok” per definition skulle vara bättre än att t ex spela dataspel. Dataspel är djävulen påfund och göra folk puckade. Fast det viste du förstås redan).
Lyckligtvis finns det sätt att lura polisen. En av mina kära vänner påpekade att bakfylla är särdeles effektivt för ändamålet. DÅ släpper nämligen alla hämningar. DÅ förtränger han det dåliga samvetet, drar för gardinerna, kollar "Heroes" i 22 timmar och käkar pizza i sängen. Eller som en kompis uttryckte sig en gång: "Man ska karma sin dåliga människa."
Name: Andreas Home: Skåne, Sweden About Me: Andreas Zetterqvist, 26 years old, hetrosexual. Three passions are present in my life: music, writing and my gf. Music represents the essence of my being, writing represent the expression of my soul, my gf keeps me sane. Laughter keeps my heart light and intact. Thinking keeps my juices flowing. Friends mean the world to me. But trust is something I give to selected few. No one has 100% of my trust. Very few have something close to it. I don't look like a supermodel.
And I'm fine with that now at this time of my life because
in my own way, I have a beauty that surpasses all these so-called beautiful people. And I'm not being cocky, just showing some much needed confidence. I have a major in network technology, but confined my future with sales. I'm a poet for a few years. I like to think I'm a lot of different things. But for sure I'm a good boy with class, who's a sweetheart and down to earth. But God bless you if you mess with me because I'm a force
to be reckoned with. I think birthdays and holidays are special and I think writing is the best way of therapy. I'm honest because I've spent too many years hiding. So if you want to get to know me better, just ask. Or read on. Visitors: See my complete profile
There are many races in life but in the end the only race is with yourself. Everyone's choice begins with a dream, because with dreams everything is possible.
