the eyes are the window to the soul
a canvas upon which emotions are painted
revealing the quiet fears we all hold dear
revealing our hopes and dreams and sweet miseries
the eyes lock; for a second we switch places
i know who you are and you know me
your life is laid out, a winding road
and you see my dreams of greatness
the gaze is broken, we continue on
but for one second we shared a soul
for one second we had an ethereal connection
shared by us; others will come around
and so the process continues until we feel
for the world, for their sorrows and sadness
for the world, for the dreams and gladness
and when we all achieve a connection
then we can live together and feel
like we are a brotherhood of humans
and we can finally love, if only we took time
too look in the eyes of another
upon which eyes the soul paints such sweet emotion
Archive for September, 2007
i was talking with a friend, and she said she wouldn’t pretend to understand beat, but she defined it as best it ever has been defined
“It has it’s own rhythm when you read it. Like it’s coming alive.”
-B
and truly that is to what i strive.
i know i haven’t written on this blog in a while. but i deliver. the force i strive to put out is greater than you need for what i put in between my writ.
patience will kill.
scattered papers line my desk
random scraps of passing time
progress made and things get lost
nothing seems to stay the same
i know it seems so odd and weird
like great red-rust iron in the heat
it’s hot and grungy and impossible to see
don’t touch it you’ll drop it
lose the animalistic beauty of it all
stuck on repeat we wander through this life
electronic mazes made for us to follow
the end is nothing but a hollow existence
propped up by technology with no prpose
the scattered pages of life so neatly organized
set for all to see. set for everybody to read
our lives on tap, the web their faucet
no one is real outside their online persona
beat is life there is no change
though it’s constant it seems so strange
perhaps we’ve taken to a better age
perhaps we think we’re not full of rage
i see my desk with all the pieces and parts
i fail to see any of my works or the arts
because what i have is in my head
until i write it, bring it out from the dead
when i give it life and i make it flow
the world is hearing it and ready to go
this is beat, this is my life
this is beat and this is my fight
what’s on your mind
i’d like to know
it seems so quiet
things go so slow
but it never fails
it just can’t stop
when you drive it mad
it’s hit the top
until you control it
your life is entropic
watch it fall apart
chaos breeding chaos
