013

We can’t wait for tomorrow to come to change and make a stand in this world. The more time that passes us is the more time that is wasted in making a difference. Those of us that are willing to make our voice heard have to do it immediately and stop holding back. Holding back is hurting our world. Stop putting change behind you because you are scared to speak up. Reinforcement is a positive thing but sometimes we have to take chances to make this world a better place.

   

The first stanza in this song is also repeated as the final stanza in the song as well. The artist/writer of this piece wanted these specific lines to stand out and have a certain impact on the reader/listener:

 If you hear this message, wherever you stand

 I'm calling every woman, calling every man

 We're the generation

 We can't afford to wait

 The future started yesterday and we're already late.

Many of the stanzas in this song are repeated just as the first and last were stating that he wants to get his point across and have emphasis on everything he has to say. He makes a point to say everything he is saying is very important and needs to be paid close attention to.

The word ‘Now’ appears a numerous amount:

Tomorrow's starting now

Now, now
Oh now, now.

And that is repeated three times throughout the length of the song. Now is the time to stand. We/you have got to stop whispering today and make our voices heard. There is not enough time to wait. The pain and hurting and lack of change is due to our procrastinating and waiting to be the voice in the background. Don’t be the voice in the background, be the lead vocals. Don’t be afraid to stand your grounds and make a difference. People are waiting for you to shout out for them to also be heard.


If you hear this message, wherever you stand
I'm calling every woman, calling every man
We're the generation
We can't afford to wait
The future started yesterday and we're already late

We've been looking for a song to sing
Searched for a melody
Searched for someone to lead
We've been looking for the world to change
If you feel the same
Then go on and say

If you're out there
Sing along with me
If you're out there
I'm dying to believe that you're out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you're out there
Tomorrow's starting now
Now, now

No more broken promises
No more call to war
Unless it's love and peace that we're really fighting for
We can destroy hunger
We can conquer hate
Put down the arms and raise your voice
We're joining hands today

Oh I was looking for a song to sing
I searched for a leader
But the leader was me
We were looking for the world to change
We can be heroes
Just go on and say

If you're out there
Sing along with me
If you're out there
I'm dying to believe that you're out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you're out there
Tomorrow's starting now
Now, now

Oh now, now

If you're ready we can shake the world
Believe again
It starts within
We don't have to wait for destiny
We should be the change that we want to see

If you're out there
Ooooh
If you're out there
And you're ready now
Say it loud
Scream it out

If you're out there
Sing along with me
If you're out there
I'm dying to believe that you're out there
Stand up and say it loud
If you're out there
Tomorrow's starting now

If you're out there
If you're out there
If you're out there

If you hear this message, wherever you stand
I'm calling every woman, calling every man
We're the generation
We can't afford to wait
The future started yesterday and we're already late

Thank You John Legend.

010

She was born into this place considered to be such a twin to hell. Who’s to say that is such a bad situation to be put in? I guess it is all depends on how you think of it. Twins are known to be complete opposites with so many of the same features. That’s exactly to her what this world is. This sphere with land, humans, and bodies of waters, plus details and characteristics has personality, change, and such life. This figure with these lands, humans, waters, details, characteristics, personality, change, and life is so wrong, violent, painful, and destructive just as hell is known to be. She is living life to turn this place upside down and inside out. This twin to her is the opposite of hell but she knows that it all comes in due time and is not just handed to you on a golden plate. I wouldn’t say that she feels like she is in such a great and perfect environment just yet, but the closest thing she has experienced to it, for sure. Growing up in hate and anger led by abuse and loud voices, she now lives with likeness and content followed by treatment and soft tones, looking forward to living with love and happiness plus care and language. From childhood until adulthood she resided with what some would consider a family but who knew would consider a disaster. The basic needs for the most part were provided for: From Sikorski’s to for now her own safe home to the future of her own family. From being alone to for now figuring out who’s there and who’s not to the future of all loved ones who will always be there. From nightmares to for now dreams to the future of living the life. From frowns to for now smiles to a future of nothing but laughs. From nothing to for now something to the future of everything. From being poor to for now having just enough to get by plus a little to the future of being rich. From crying to for now speaking to the future of helping others. From a house to for now an apartment to the future of a home and family. From being misunderstood to for now the effort of people to the future of understanding. From being ugly to for now blooming to the future of beauty. From failure to for now trying to the future of success. From learning of God, to having a relationship with God, for a future of being an angel of God.

009

The 'LOVE' on my foot is a thing of the past.

The 'Hope, Love, & Belief is current and will remain.

The 'Love' will be the biggest factor this day forward. I not only have on my foot but in my heart. It's on the interior and exterior.

People often say to hold your hands to a broken world. In this case she is left to hold her own hands to her own broken world. She thinks it is better than none. As she walk's with scars covering the epidermis and even some from the night before. She thinks about how much hope there really is or can be offered. She listens to the alive noises of beautiful everyday living; just as she can recall listening to a deep high pitched scream of her biological enemy the many hour's before now. People often say to hold your hands to a broken world. In this case she feel's as if she has been left to do so alone. Holding her own hand's to her own wound's to keep from bleeding is better relying on her peer's that consistently fail to show. She walk's with scar's scattered, covering her epidermis, with some honestly still swollen from the midnight that just passed us by. She set’s and thinks hard about how much hope can be offered. She listens closely to the alive noises of beautiful everyday living; just as she can think back to a deep high pitched scratching scream of her biological enemy the many months before now. People often say to hold your hands to the wounds of a broken world. In this case she has felt for too long that she had to do so herself. She now is aware that she has people there with both hands out to help but need's to put her's in also. Having other's hold their hands to her scars allow them to be stories of hope and healing. Holding her hand against them for self-respect allow her to accept the past but smile at the present and laugh at the future. Nobody has left her side in months. She walk's with stories written carefully across her skin waiting for the chance to tell them to the broken and now place her hand to their broken world. No more stories will be covering her epidermis anymore and haven't for month's. She set’s and thinks hard about how much hope has spilled out into her life, she can spill into other's heart's, and the hope just waiting to help people. She listens closely to the alive noises of the beautiful everyday living; just as she can think back to such present times of hearing I love you's and the voices of loved one's with nothing but positive word's to speak to her the month's, week's, day's, hour's, and minutes before now.

008

Birthdays are special. No one seems to understand the significance of a birthday anymore. To most humans it’s merely a get together with cake and ice cream, presents and a group of loved ones. Usually thirteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty one, fifty, and one hundred are praised a little bit more than the others but still birthdays have more unshown meaning than this. Celebrating birthdays of mine are special but I find it more special to celebrate others birthdays. The heart of birthdays is getting the opportunity to express to someone that your happy that they were born which is also to say you are happy that they are alive. Those are strong statements. Imagine if all, showed things like that, more then just once a year. We barely do it on birthdays. We as people should be thankful for the lives around us and for peoples stories and we should make an attempt to express these things more often. Acting as walking gifts, a favorite song, or concert you remember, a piece of hope of life or strength to hold against the walls when they feel broken or crashing down. We should act as a reminder that life is worth fighting for, our friends and family are worth fighting for, love and beauty still occur, and change is still in existence. We can only be part of others process, on the opposite end of the telephone, at home waiting for each other to show broken waiting for fixing words, or on each others hearts reminding one another that their loved and we want the best for them. I hope that we find everyone like friends and feel less alone when looking in the mirror. Let us remind everyone of community and remind others that we are all part of a bigger thing. Hopefully we can spark conversation that brings change like a blanket on a winter night. We need more then ourselves. We will need more and better. We will need other people. People to help our process, to help us let go of broken things, people to help us remember what is true and forget what are lies. We will need the stories and advice of the people with gray or white hair, maybe even no hair at all. Don’t settle for the lie that suggests these people have no advice, and offer nothing to say. They were young once too. These people are stories that still remain and still have life. They have seen the places we will go. They have been stuck sometimes as well, just like us. We are going to need real music, comfortable clothes, and long nights. Airplanes, big cities, and new saying an old sayings, but people more than anything else. We are going to need other people and we are going to need to be that person to someone else, an alive, breathing, screaming invite to believe better things. The story doesn’t end here; the blood that flows through your veins is there for a reason. You have purpose. Perhaps we are all in the business of happy endings, one just as much as the other, the business of redemption. Yours and mine are all the personality and character around us, and maybe the bigger thing in life. We are far from alone in this and god has been doing this for quite a long time, this business of taking things from us and making things new. God cares, about our lives, about our stories, and about our pain. If the possibility of that feels too far or just sounds off, then rest now and you people we will get back to. People care. The darkness and fear win battles too often. Broken things build themselves in silence and loneliness. People feel alone. People give up. People talk about this thing like it is math or they just don’t speak about it at all. So what are we doing? Why our chosen words? Why the way we live? Why do people put their lives on hold and chose to help the people around them? Why do we choose to act with care being conscious of hurting the ones surrounding us? Why would we trade everything we know, our normalcy and comfort and peace, for broken, change, and an endless helping heart? Why do we join conversation and possibly even start it in which people normally run from? We should be fighting for people that are kind, have words that move, with honesty and creativity. We should be pushing back at things like suicide with compassion and with hope. We should be pointing to wisdom, pointing to healing, expressing that hope is real, and help is real. We should also be fighting for our own stories, our own families and friends, our own broken hearts. We should be saying that there is not anything we cannot talk about and nothing off-limits. We are kicking large objects out of our lives, making room for life. Everyone. This is about you and I. It is nothing unless it moves you, nothing unless it connects to your story, meets you in your pain, reminds you of your dreams, reminds you of the possibilities. We are all still alive, you and I, on a night that has never happened before. Spread out across a huge sphere, winter on one side and summer on the other, day and night spread the same. It moves and turns and changes. Things are consistently changing. We are all glad that we were all born. We are all glad that we are all alive. Don’t give up. Don’t give up on your story. Don’t give up on the people you love. Hope is real. Love is real. It is all worth fighting for.

007

She looks at life from so many angles. Walking in your shoes wouldn't phase her. Not always can she say she has been in your situation, but when she hasn't, she can most likely feel for you and have a true understanding. Sitting back and observing life used to be her thing. She now is the one you watch live life. Watching her is like watching the most disastrously beautiful home video you picked out of a dusty box in the attic. She is fragile but cannot be broken. With her you will never know what is coming next. Peace to her is just two finger's separated and extended long from the hand, yet love to her, is everything but three finger’s up and two finger's down. Talk to her and her word's might make sense, but every word is important to her story, so don't miss anything. You literally and physically can't leave her without dying inside. She scream's a silent scream but her laugh is outrageous. Rejection and stupidity is what she hates. Vertical or horizontal, she knows like the back of her hand, but isn't filled with book smarts. Don't do it and she will. Do it and she won't. She is nothing but spontaneous, outgoing, hardcore, and indecisive. She always knows what's right though. She has many scars created by feelings and emotions but drawn by such harsh objects such as razorblades. Touch her scars and tell her you care but don't do it if it's fake. Her life isn't a joke. Her eye's hold emptiness yet often holds tears. Her cheeks have endured such emotional and physical weather...

006

How could we live in a world with such thin walls and such thick floors. Its like a trap. With walls made of paper and floors made with concrete what are our purposes. Every ceiling is different so every place your in is different. Most places are made up of just four walls. Why four and no more or no less. Its like the world is meant to be no bigger or smaller than what we have been given. Every place has a door but not every door has a lock. Some people’s lives are a free for all. Just walk on in. they have no control of anything that happens. Some people have a lock or more. They don’t have full control cause once they open the door they’ve let whatever in that was there. The people that have a peephole and a lock are the people that have it great but not a great as we all seem to think. These people see what’s there and can choose to let it in or keep it out. Sometimes they make bad decisions though and they’re stuck. Windows are overrated but have such meaning behind them. With windows you can see what goes on in the real world, which isn’t so great so it’s not necessarily a luxury. Windows can be an escape or an outlet or a hazardous object just waiting for trouble and heartache. More than one window is not necessary. The attic is what captures such randomness. Who knows what happened there. Most people don’t often visit the attic. It could be a getaway or a trap, a storage space or an emptiness. What is your world like?

005

Down a simple hallway- enclosed by a filler for just a hole in the wall- my brain explain to my inner ear that I am vaguely hearing an unforgettable memorable calm striking of tense knuckles on a wooden piece in which others would call an anterior door to a home I call hell- the tense knuckles are attached to such an important figure- the figure in which is without words yet stumbling over her words and frozen yet belting her fragile yet tough self all over this incredibly unbearable place we all seem to be contained in with nothing able to remove us but removing ourselves in such a way that is so easily difficult- I have answered to the striking- knowing this is the time to enter the real world- which couldn’t be anything harder then the agonizing disrespectful structure people refer to as home- I don’t know what a home is- unreadily and speechless- we move our feet in alternating manners to the metal frame including motor and sophistication- in order to arrive at our next destination without such hard work- next destination- we have arrived- removing our anatomy from the metal piece- we exchange nothing but two clusters of three syllables- "how are you" is strain fully discharged from behind the closing points of my mouth- "I am okay" is pushed unwantedly out of hers- we are hurt damaged and in critical condition- hurt captures our lips- to be held closed- to force nothing out but enough to breath to barely live and hold on- I gracefully let us in to our destination of somebody home- this home is of great love and hope- freedom and more- with extremely none and more then plenty emotions- we synchronizingly slump ourselves onto two separate clusters of cushions- leaving ourselves lonely hopeless and to deal with life on our own- why- a question commonly asked and left unanswered- we both share not having the ability to control ourselves often- or just the inability to do such a normally easy thing as think- hiding the pain- my face screams to people- hiding my face- the pain screams to people- I let a few thoughts enter the space I have left- 'I should go comfort her'- realizing my limbs are numb and cannot budge- I scream inside- why- not the twenty fifth letter of the alphabet but the small meaningful three lettered word with question behind it- her moves have imitated those of mine- until she gains little more power then I- she sets her right end of her lower extremity (just one of the two) on the hard cold tile- reminding her of many life situations- she ends all power in her with the throwing of her body unto the empty now filled space next to me- she slowly with nothing but swift motions covers everything but the extremely superior quarter of me and her- my duty left unsaid- but known by both is what I use all strength of mine to accomplish- I quickly and quietly place my pointer and thumb around the corner of the shielding cover and pull- just one tug and we are safely shielded from the world- we cover us for the satisfaction of no one more then just the both of us- satisfied by nothing but pain and frustration and the freaking out of the inner us for the simple sophisticated moments that are still to come in the near future of the next little while for us- many moments have swept by- consisting of tears and deep breaths- squeezing hands and shaking bodies- comforting and just trying to hold on for dear life and dear love- more time passes us by with the normalcy of the last moments added on to- fidgeting bodies- bandanas- paper towels- and silent screaming- hurt- once more- and continually- captures the lips of us both- leaving us speechless- to one another- and at all- in this harsh- beautiful- brightly dark- time and place- as a couple overwhelming minutes go by- I remind myself that the pain- connected to my upper left extremity is not only being tightly bonded and clutched by the uppermost important to me (after god)- but is also being held together and hidden by a torn blue sacrificed bandana- therefore I don’t have to uncover my past pains and scars to those who love and care for me and my battle wounds (the battle I battle with myself)- my insides are screaming at myself and her- trying and striving to most importantly express my love to her and show and not so much prove to her that this battle will be conquered- and not by any undeserving anything but two amazing girls by the names of- me and you- or you and me- we are nameless due to the many harsh deserving and undeserving names and insults and words we have awarded so hugely to our own beings- we are unsure of the birth names- certified to and for the sake of us and only us- but will be found in only a matter of time- how does one tell the other what she so greatly desires to tell her when she is striving and gasping to and of her breath- one word- impossible- as a brave young girl once did- I let go of my grip unto her hands and released her fingers from her palms- using my weapons to express love and a thousand words and feelings and expressions- I gently but so forcefully place my weapons into her hands- letter by letter- spelling out three words or eight letters with the help of a beautiful language- I-l-o-v-e-y-o-u- quickly I grasp her hands again- showing her also- I will never let go- she has received my message- giving me the reassurance cause I can hear nothing more then a sigh of relief- but nothing less then agonizing pain- piercing through the anatomy of her- which I have failed to explain to you- is so beautifully- gracefully- and wonderfully placed together- seconds slip from us- suddenly my hands aren’t so close to hers anymore- then I can feel the letters being enforced- d-o-n-t-l-e-t-g-o- she has also spelled out three words- but nine letters- then I hear her gentle but powerful breaths in forms of noise forming out the voice saying- "don’t let go please don’t let go"- her voice then disappears and returns to a place that has been robbed of strength and replaced with suffering- we exchanged eye contact and looks of cries for help- the experience and situation intensifies by an infinite amount- we are still captured for the next while- we then give one last clench of intensity and extreme might- to one another’s weapons and then breath the first clean breath of a while and realize- 'we made it'- 'we made it'- she grabs a prized possession bandana from the hole or pocket in her hoodie and slowly but surely sweeps the bandana down ones cheeks and eyes- collecting this water that has escaped from the eyes- we collectively stay in the same position for a minute- in pure shock and pure happiness- she then realized the lock from her superior and inferior lips and spoke- saying emotionless with more feeling then ever- "we are going to beat this"- words can be so true- we grabbed each other with our weapons- which by now had just been hands- used to heal- and pulled each others bodies toward each other- some people refer to this beautiful movement and action as a- hug- to us it has much more meaning then could just be explained with a one syllable three letter cluster- we then- held each other in that moment for a long but no where near long enough- releasing the last and final tears and emotions- we flushed our noses and were replenished with speech and smiles- laughs and light- love and hope-

004

From living : In Fear : In the Dark

To Living : Conquered Fear : In the Light

Fear has a large shadow, but himself is quite small. He has a vivid imagination. He composes horrow music in the middle of the night. He is not very social, and keeps to himself at political meetings. His past is a mystery. He warned us not to talk to each other about him, adding that there was nowhere any of us could go where he wouldn't hear us. We were quiet. When we began to talk to each other, he changed. His manners started to seem pompous, and his snarling voice sounded rehearsed. Two dragons guard Fear's mansion. One is ceramic and chinese. The other one is real. If you make it past the dragons and speak and speak to him close up, it is amazing to see how fragile he is. He will try to tell you stories. Be aware. He is a master of disguises and illusions. He almost convinced me that he was a puppet-maker and I was a marionette. Speak out boldly, look him in the eye, startle him. Don't give up. Win his respect, and he will never bother you with unimportant matters.

003

Single file is still running through the older generations. We file single and board train. We get aggravated as a whole if someone fails to have their ticket ready. Chances are their a first time rider, and we can all understand completely. Taking your ticket they don't care of your identity. Check it, rip it in half, give you the stub, tell you left or right and give you a seat number. LEFT #44. As I walk I hope. Hope I have a window seat but of course I'd settle for less. I'll worry about who the passenger next to me is later. I'm here and its an aisle seat. I'll get a little more fresh air this way anywho. I settle in and well, I'm sitting next to an older white guy. He has expressed retirement and curiousity of technology. I'm not interested but have no choice but to listen. Sounding it out, here and there I say yeah, oh, I feel you, etc. He's obviously convinced cause he keeps talking. My feet are up, my head is back, and I'm covered and cozy. My phone will be my sidekick for the next 10 hours, more then ever. Texting, statuses, pictures, music, phone calls, anything to keep me occupied. Thank you DROID. Then it was time to retire myself. Goodnight. A few hours was sufficient. I get up to the conducter talking some nonsense about 'goodmorning were in jacksonville, designated smoking stop, get out and stretch and were leaving in thirty minutes, don't board or get off where there's no attendant, thank you." I'm too scared to stretch and forget where my seat was, and get left. No thank you. And we all know smoking, no comment. The guy next to me gets up, pro and con to that. Ugh, hope he don't go smoke but I can read him well enough to know he's a smoker. Dirty lookin hair, bad breath, dirty glasses, and burnt up course fingertips. Pro. He's gone, I can stretch INSIDE. I can plug my phone up and provide it with life, and I can finally steal the window seat. And well I got it. He contently came back and just sat in the aisle seat like that's how it was meant to be. Thank you man. I'm happier now. I snack on a few raisenettes and I'm good. We start back going and well besides the loud music from when we were stopped, way too much perfume, and the smell of smoke, I'M GOOD. Traffic is stopped cause we coming through town, kids on the way to school stopped with backpacks aggravated and ready to go. Flashing lights and stripped bars and RR crossing signs. Later.

002

Knees to my chest, ear phones in my ears. Waiting at the station for the train. Being early sucks but getting here was what mattered. People come in slowly, but surely. The seats close and spread, we communicate with our eyes and our smiles but leave it at that. The lady in the middle of the room listening to her cassette player is tweeking. She got that stuff running through her veins. Hollering here and there, twitching, and just always making the movement. The couple behind me saying byes to the girlfriends mom. Its late and she's tired. They happy and sound, playing cards, reaching over each other, giggling, consist conversation. You got a few quiet people here and there, me being one of them. The lights out in the depot are flashing cause they worn, their time is over. There's people outside waiting for the arrivies. People coming in getting tickets showing id. Lady taking luggage and weighing in. We all ready for this ride. As long as we ain't got to sit next to the wired lady that got it running. Its time and we can here the rumble of the train. TIME TO GO. Its early.