I looked up at the sky,
And looked at all the stars,
I wondered how many I could put a name to,
That would remind me of you,
But when I started I couldn’t stop,
And I ended up running out of stars.
A book by it’s cover,
A person’s skin color,
A freckle on a nose,
Or a hopeful voice with a scratchy throat,
A style of hair or shoes; and even clothes,
Stick out to a group that’s so called “pop-u-lar”,
Don’t listen to them; forget what they say,
They don’t know you; not even close,
A lesson is to be learned today,
It has two words and exactly nine letters,
This certain one is “Don’t Judge”,
Take this to heart; this little lesson,
Wrap it up and keep it there,
So that maybe tomorrow; during your life,
Stop to remember
This life lesson
Spread it around; so that when they commonly judge today,
Tomorrow we can stop this madness, forever.
Inside the Opposites
If the coldest heart can be melted,
Then can the warmest become frozen?
Can something so hot be so cold?
How about if it's so cold that it's hot?
Is there a broken hope that can be restored?
Do you think that time can heal wounds that leave people broken?
Do tears really quiet the soul?
Is it possible not to die alone?
There is only some things that people cannot fathom.
Don't you think that it's time to stop looking at the world?
Go after the things that make your heart beat,
And even those things that make your very soul weep.
Look inside yourself and find what's in there,
Then look beyond yourself and all that you can do.
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'
So should my papers yellowed with their age
Be scorned like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched meter of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme. -Shakespeare