Each Day

Each day we witness many little miracles

And each day, we let them pass us by.

Each and every day, the sun runs across the sky,

Each day we all get to live to see another,

And each day, there are people overcoming greed.

Each day millions of people decide to do a good deed.

Each day bestowed upon us is the power to choose,

And each day our human nature keeps us strong,

Each day our conscience is there to tell us if we’re wrong.

And each day, another sunset will not go unnoticed.

Beautiful Things

In a world full of hurt, sorrow, and pain,

In a world stuffed with terror, uncertainty, and sin,

There will always be the beautiful things.

Pink and white buds on trees in April and May

The blazing red and gold sun each and every day

Small, innocent children, who’ve never known lies,

And sweet and soft lullabies sung to sleepy eyes.

There will always be the beautiful things,

For without them we wouldn’t survive.

No matter how dark or how gloomy,

No matter the wars, or the pain, or the fear

Remember, forever, that the beautiful things are near.

You may have to search, and sometimes wipe away dust

But the beautiful things are there, of this you can trust.

Search high, and search low, and don’t ever forget,

That the beautiful things hide in places never ventured.

They’re tricky to notice, and that makes them beautiful,

And sometimes they aren’t even seen,

But you shall see them if your senses remain keen.

Always look, always watch, and occasionally stop to stare,

For who knows, if the next day they’ll be there.

The beautiful things tend to come and go.

Some change with the seasons,

And others fade in and out of view.

So watch, listen, and try to remember,

That way you’ll know when they get together.

Memorize the beautiful things and become one yourself

And remove all those grudges of your heart’s shelf.

Remember the beautiful things,

Remember them forever and ever,

And they will never forget you.

A Hero

a hero’s a hero whatever he is,

no matter whatever he does.

A hero’s a warrior, if only

in their own mind.

A hero’s doesn’t have to be mighty,

Or strongorbraveorhandsome.

A hero’s a hero even if he “isnt”

some say thet “nobind canhold mymind”

and thet is true, I guess, but then why

wouldyouputyourownbindthere?

In stereotyping and judgmentally deciding,

who can and can’t be a hero, remember

to keep your mind free of a bind

and be a Hero!No matter what is said

I Wonder Why We Wonder

I wonder why we wonder about all the things that we see,

Such as stars, and water, and the leaves on a tree.

Why can’t we let all these things just simply be?

All our wondering before has lead us to a place,

Where there are greenhouse gasses and toxic waste.

Do you see what wondering brought, in its “diplomatic” case?

We force all the natives out of their homes,

Because “they weren’t as civilized as us.”

Since when has civilized been polluting the world until we all just live in domes?

The next generation, is screwed beyond compare,

We’re born into a world with no fantasies and mysteries,

And the first thing that the doctor says when we’re born is,

“I hope you, or another, can fix this world.”

Hope

Hope is a wild flower, bright and colorful,

that appears in the oddest of places.

It cannot be planted where it is wanted,

for then it would not be wild.

It cannot be located,

unless you already know where it is.

Hope is the light inside us that never dies,

for when it dies, we die with it.

Soul Searcher

Our souls are pools of emotions.

They writhe because of our minds.

For our minds create false notions,

Of what we should think, but don’t.

Our instincts are chewed away by attitude,

As our hearts are filled with justification,

And our mouths unleash the words of the multitude.

How did this happen?

Where are our souls?

Are they still with us?

Nobody knows.

And what nobody knows is what nobody thinks.

For nobody thinks of what we have neglected.

For we have lost what we can’t remember.

For it is our souls that we have rejected.

Our souls must be found,

Or we must all die.

This is the price, it is only just

Where are our souls?

We must find them, we must.

Colorful

Explain to me a color,

for my eyes aren’t able to see.

Can you explain to me a color,

and what colorful means?

Blue tastes like crystals,

            red tastes like spice,

                        yellow sounds like excitement,

                                    and black paints the night.

Purple’s kinda like pink, except more sad,

            pink’s like little giggles and lacey dresses

                        turquoise is warm, tropic waters, and beautiful,

                                    and gold is a brighter yellow, only worn by kings.

There’s burgundy, maroon

            Lime, midnight blue,

                        Chartreuse, peach,

                                    Violet, and silver.

These words make colorful,

            when the colors get together and play.

                        Colorful’s the world, and all its noises,

                                    Colorful’s your mind, and all its questions.

Colorful is a feast,

            it’s tastes, sounds, and smells,

                        that mix, hug, and cooperate,

                                    to make something unique!

Can you understand,

            what colorful is?

                        Can you understand,

                                    all of these colors?

Yes, and thank you, sir,

            but can you answer me this,

                        what does the moon look like?

                                    What about the sun, my house, my mom?

What about the world?

            What about my clothes,

                        oh, and don’t forget my father,

                                    what do they look like, help me sir.

My dear, remember this,

            everything’s a color, sometimes two,

                        sometimes three, four, five, or ninety-four,

                                    but it doesn’t matter what everything else is,

as long as you know what you are.

Soul Searcher

Our souls are pools of emotions.

They writhe because of our minds.

For our minds create false notions,

Of what we should think, but don’t.

Our instincts are chewed away by attitude,

As our hearts are filled with justification,

And our mouths unleash the words of the multitude.

How did this happen?

Where are our souls?

Are they still with us?

Nobody knows.

And what nobody knows is what nobody thinks.

For nobody thinks of what we have neglected.

For we have lost what we can’t remember.

For it is our souls that we have rejected.

Our souls must be found,

Or we must all die.

This is the price, it is only just

Where are our souls?

We must find them, we must.

Stars

A star is exiled from the sky, and we make a wish as it falls on by.

When was that disabled star given the power to answer our call?

It wasn’t, so are we mocking its loss?

You don’t hear exactly what you want to, so you let out an annoyed sigh.

Does that agitated breath change the past, and what has already been said?

This isn’t possible, so are you just complaining because your selfish desires haven’t been satisfied?

We laugh as another gets hurt.

Is this a way of protecting ourselves from their pain?

Or do we simply enjoy someone else’s suffering?

You think something dirty is lowly like dirt.

Don’t you have to be able to think in order to be lowly?

Even if you don’t, why is dirt so lowly, simply because you walk on it?

We naturally think that we should be rewarded before others.

Is this nature’s way of starting wars and making sure that the earth isn’t overpopulated?

Or are we just selfish by design, wouldn’t that make us the lowly ones of earth?

A star is exiled from the sky.

Shouldn’t we go try to catch it before it hits the ground?

After that, isn’t it just a matter of putting it back in the night?