Sunday, December 9, 2012
Believe
“It’s the oldest story in the world. One day you’re seventeen and planning for someday. And then quietly and without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And that someday is yesterday. And this is your life. We spend so much time wanting, pursuing, wishing - but ambition is good, chasing things with integrity is good, dreaming. If you had a friend you knew you’d never see again, what would you say? If you could do one last thing for someone you love, what would it be? Say it, do it. Don’t wait. Nothing lasts forever. Make a wish, place it in your heart. Anything you want, everything you want. Do you have it? Good, now believe it can come true. You never know where the next miracle is going to come from, the next memory, the next smile, the next wish come true. But, if you believe that it’s right around the corner, and you open your heart and mind to the possibility of it, to the certainty of it, you just might get the thing you wished for. The world is full of magic, you just have to believe in it. So make your wish, do you have it? Good. Now believe in it with all your heart.”
— | One Tree Hill |
Monday, November 26, 2012
Bass Cabinet
If you really love music and you want to have an artistic DVD storage cabinet, then you can choose this nice bass furniture! :)
Everything Is A Risk
Standing right in the middle of nowhere
I saw a glimpse of a shady pair
Ready enough to be figured out
What the crowd has meant to fall out
Barely seeing was one reason
Heads turning away,
And then there came a question
Asking if one of them could stay
Holding on isn’t easy
After a long time overdue
Waiting is always a risk
That is if you know what to do
Reading between the lines
Terms aren’t really doing fine
Falling apart is where it heads
As tears are finally going to shed
by: sinosidebb
Friday, November 16, 2012
Kindness
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
Ink Calendar
Ink Calendar was created by Oscar Diaz, a Spanish designer. This artistic innovation uses the timed pacing of the ink spreading
on the paper to tell the date. The ink is slowly absorbed, and the numbers are ‘printed' everyday until they're filled with ink at the end of the month.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
Measure of A Man
Perhaps worth is the wrong word
by which to measure a man.
Perhaps it should be breath.
How many worthwhile words
have left his lips on a breath?
Perhaps it should be depth.
How deep runs his devotion,
or the laugh-lines at his eyes?
Perhaps it should be warmth.
How warm are his welcomes
for those other than friends?
Perhaps it should be length.
How long do his dreams last
when the world wants them lost?
Perhaps any of these words
measure better than worth.
by: lonelysusurrus
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Why I Loved Her
Because she would ask me why I loved her
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?.
Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
by Christopher Brennan
Monday, October 8, 2012
Insanity
If walls could speak, they’d whisper your secrets
Your struggle to lose a staring contest with the dark
Your thoughts in a sound proof quarantined mind
Poisoning a web of veins that once seemed lively
You’ll always wonder how the other half lives
Existing weightless while you only fall deeper
Within yourself and your maze of a mind
But what if you were as sane as the rest?
Perhaps your blood should no longer see your insanity as foreign
Perhaps life without insanity is a life not truly lived.
by: cloudsholddreams
Kelburn Castle
This amazing piece is at Kelburn Castle, Scotland a collaboration
between OsGemeos, Nina Pandolfo and Nunca.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Wintergreen
You came.
And your breeze touched me.
You keep me alive
As you dance with my every sway.
The hurting snows keep pouring hard
But you sweep it with your gentle touch.
I know I cannot hold you forever
For the breeze is just passing.
Winter is but a moment
Gone when it's over.
So let me breathe with you
As long as you are here
Calm me my gale of wind.
The wintergreen is frail.
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