An Autobiographical
Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack
In the concrete
Proving nature’s laws wrong it learned to walk
Without having feet
Funny it seems but by keeping its dream
It learned to breathe fresh air
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
When no one else even cared!
I was here but now I’m gone
I left my name to turn you on
Those who new me new me will
Those who don’t can go to HELL!
Dedicated in Memory of Vincent von
A creative heart, obsessed with satisfying
This dormant and uncaring society
[yo]u have given them the stars at night
And [yo]u have given them Boutiful Bouquwts of Sunflowers
But [for] [yo]u there is only contempt
And though [yo]u pour yourself into that frame
And present it so proudly
This world could not accept your masterpieces
From the heart
So on that starry night
[yo]u gave [to] us and
[yo]u took away from us
The one thing we never acknowledged
Your life
But somehow I fell for her
Until you broke my heart that day
And left me in the rain
But still I love you
I found it quite strange
The way I look in your eyes
I see the love you can’t deny
There more to this then what you say
Course In my sleep I call your name
I say you are just a friend
I knew right then because the rain began
You seemed so familiar when I met you
Who were you foolin I had a clue to what you were doing
Thoughts of suspicion brought to my attention
I fall for your game I am so lost
Please stop the rain
And when the music stops
And when the tears drop
And when the rain ends
My heart will beat again
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless dimes, and starry skies
And all that is best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to goudy day denies
One shade the more, one ray the less
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every inven tress
Or softly lightens o’er her face
Where thoughts serenity sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place
And on that cheek and o’er that brown
So soft , so calm, yet elegent
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent
A mind at peace with all below
A heart whose love is innocent
So there you are
In your pathetic little world
Living this big façade
Toward your enviroment
Hate hate hate
Judging complaing and gossip
Them bitches favorite pass time
So full of yourself
So wanting to be more then someone else
So full of yourself
While your just a pile of shit
Hate hate hate
For so many years
You pretended to be my friend
While at long last
Your true face has shown
Hate hate hate
I shun you , despise you
For all your deceivement
Fuck you and your pity lives
Spit is what I will give you
Plastic face coward!!!!!
Follow simple formula to fail after graduation
As the school year draws toward a close, newspaper columnists can count on receiving call from educators. They call seeking career advice and meaningful words for their graduating classes, words that “will tell them how to become successful” as one high school teacher phrased it.
Success is a relative concept, and somehow, it feels dishonest to lecture 18-year-olds about climbing to the top when most of us feel permanently in place somewhere in the low-to-middle, middle.
I’ve known far more people who aren’t successful than those who are. Failing in truly dramatic style, well, that’s a concept I can yak about for hours, even days, on end. Screwing up the year’s right after high school graduation can prepare us for really getting it wrong later.
There’s no great mystery or science to making the wrong decisions in life: Most people I’ve known who’ve failed spectacularly have followed a simple, one that the class of 2007 would be wise to study.
Start off by having kids. Not later, after you’ve achieved steady, gainful employment, a decent place to stay and some money, but right now before you’ve even left high school. Have two children. Hell, have three or four by your 21st birthday. Fill the house so full of hungry mouths you can’t find time to look for work.
Those books that your teacher forced you to read? Never open another one of the blasted things. Ditto daily newspaper and magazines. If you must read, make sure it’s the sports section only.
Avoid the written word and educational television the way stoners shirk gym class. Likewise, avoid films or radio programming that might make you think. Take great pains to never experience anything new or different.
Make sure that you’ll never travel or learn anything about the world outside of your neighborhood. Develop opinions based on hearsay and outdated prejudices. Don’t trust anybody who doesn’t look, talk, think, the same as you.
Make excuses. Sleep in late. Don’t do volunteer work.
Be rude. Be violent. Get into fights over the slightest provocations. Dress like a gangster or a South Central hoochie and sneer at everyone you meet. Carry a gun and exercise little caution about how you use it. Develop a moral code based on the things you see and hear in gangster movies and rap videos.
Develop a lifelong aversion to hard work because busting your hump for the man is for suckers.
Instead, sell drugs or master the art of the stick-up. Tell yourself that jail ain’t no big thang, and laugh when they lock you up. Call your mother collect from the inside and tell her it’s all society’s fault, that you never had a chance.
There. You’ve made it
- The way to happiness: keep you heart free from hate, your mind from worry, live simply, expect little, give much.
-
When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
-
Make no judgments where you have no compassion.
-
Happiness is the delicate balance between what one is and what one has.
One joy dispels a hundred cares.
