Penned, immortal
motif shapely patterns
related strangers
draping beauty
~
Slenderly long
innately inert
illusional shadows
poured and dried
~
Timely hands
dams of flow
reversible not
slaves of time
~
orderly random
mix n match
colored rainbow
nick nacks of life
It is randomly random, unpredictable as the weather
It is made up of facts, but even more of the unknown
Assumptions are its face, somethings are not accountable
Yet it remains beautiful even in the face of fashion
~
Metrics are too primitive to measure whats out there
If we could tell how far it stretches we could rocket fiercely
If we knew its depths we could mount drills with pleasure
Yet without showing too much skin, we can’t help but ogle
~
It is not definite yet it is not infinite, we see and forget
We cannot tell the beginning or the end, this way up!
Are coming and going, or vice-versa, we can barely decide
Yet we fall in love, especially when we cannot decide
~
It is abundantly demured, it is a comely mother nature
Without holding back, it explodes, and burns nature
It is defined by laws but it does not abide to any
Yet despite its unfaithfulness, we reach out and caress it
~
It is has been there from time immemorial, can we tell?
It is the alpha and the omega, the beginning of the end
the end of the beginning if temperatures were to rise
Yet for short lived pleasures we exert extra strain on it
~
We reminisce of memories we love with wishes
We imagine of worlds unknown, fearfully and excitedly
We are beautifully and wonderfully made, only if we cared to look
Yet believe it or not we look into it when nothing else gives
“This better be good, otherwise am not doing it” - David C Wide.
Time and time again he was tempted to say to his wife: you know you just ruined art for me. But he new better. He had moreover committed the crime and had been handed a fitting punishment. And as a good citizen it was his right and duty to do time for the crime.
He had chosen to make a bed and now that he lay in it, there was no turning back.
His anguish, Peter’s anguish started after his wife Emily discovered the world of makeup. And like every other middle aged woman, she felt the need and the urge to reclaim her youth.
May be it was Maybelline, or maybe she was born with it.
To her, makeup just popped into her life at the right time and Peter was sinking or rather floating in the sea of mid life crisis. Thus the indifference in her.
Perhaps a convertible could do the trick.
To her husband, it was like an amateur artist playing with a canvas that already bore a professional’s work.
Spin it your way.
While she sat at the dressing table at the foot of the bed, girlie, Peter lay under the covers wondering why amateurs practiced their artwork on used canvases. Most of all, why did they ruin art that was already perfect. Was that art in itself or was this artist struggling to invent a new form of art or enjoying a newly found one?
Never mind.
Emily had gone from being comfortable in slipping under the covers in her birth suit to spotting a layer of makeup.
Mmmmmhh.
To Peter, it was just another piece of art ruined by a naked artist.
Cont’d from behold, (beauty) in the eyes of the beholder 2.
~
..or at least acknowledged,
like the warmth and personality
of an extinguished lamppost
~
They say that
~
if you ask a Minnesotan how
he feels on the day his comely
leaves him, he loses his job
or worse, his dog dies, the answer
remains unchanged; ‘fine’ he says.
~
Lets thus take note, and savor
times when beauty and paisley holds
a hotchpotch of life itself
lest we fail to notice it
lest we fail to notice its gone
Cont’d from behold, (beauty) in the eyes of the beholder.
~
at neckbreaking speeds it will fade
beauty, eyes, beholder, all blowsy
never again to look or be looked at
~
Never again to obey laws of nature
or be defined by scientific theories
or to be depicted geometrically
a time shall pass and an a new beginning
will be, a new beginning to the end
~
and just like that it will become extinct
having not being appreciated,
or at least acknowledged,
like the warmth and personality
of an extinguished lamppost
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
Eyes, behold outer and inner beauty
An array of colors and emotions
formed, a beatific blueprint revealed
one like no other, eye rare intimacy
~
Eyeball, ogle, schmooze, dote and
court the blueprint, for in no time
at neckbreaking speeds it will fade
beauty, eyes, beholder, all blowsy
never again to look or be looked at
If you want your looks to last, ‘you’ve got to be able to tell the difference between the way you look and the way you think about your looks. Most people are tirelessly working on their physical beauty but tend to forget about the inner satisfaction of the outcome’.
And the steps are:
check out the full article at cnn
- oprah.com c/o cnn
I just wish they would dig deeper into this topic for instance on DIY, it would be a little odd but helpful; they would simply tell you to cut your spending on your looks and do whatever you think is necessary. I say if it works don’t fix it! It will not take the two entities to the next level.
