15 years old and trying to get,
How to grow up,
Without throwing a fit,
My classes are hard,
I feel so scared,
Having to do homework, chores, and more,
But wanting to watch cartoons like I did before,
Needing some comfort,
While standing up tall,
And just praying not to fall,
I'm not grown up yet,
But sometimes, that I forget,
Having to act responsible,
Yet feeling so reckless,
Confused and worried,
Confident and secure,
Trying to grow up,
Yet trying to be pure.
i once saw a face, it was so beautiful, it began to drown my soul, quicker as she stood in leather lace, and time began to unfold, I could hear the melody starting to pull, so i grasped her mystical flow, towards the heart, which began to beat, did not know her, nor knew where to start, when or how could we meet, deep started to call on deep, and in my heart and soul began for her to weep, i need an explanation, for such a moment, but as soon as i was told, i found out she was heaven sent! I can't understand the concept, emotions in a rage, but why writing tears on this last page, she may not understand and she may not care, but truly she is more than the crystal clear, morning of fog and light, truly god sent beauty to my sight, for this is the day i met grace, and yes she stood in leather lace!
An unimaginably loud explosion,
Is followed by broken glass,
And the screams of women and children,
Who are caught up in the blast.
They are caught up in a conflict,
It is catching up with all their lives,
It hasn’t asked for what it’s taken,
And it won’t apologise.
The people open their eyes,
Or at least all those who can,
They don’t want to see the damage,
Dealt by the bombers hand.
They survey all the bleeding,
They hear the cries of pain,
They struggle to comprehend this,
And they start to feel the strain.
A half a dozen are dead,
Fathers, mothers and sons,
And no one can answer the question:
In all this loss, just who has won?
What would drive a person
To board a bus with this in his head?
The survivors don’t know the reason,
Anyone who does is probably dead.
, genre: landscape, style: Baroque, tags: folk-architecture, cliffs-and-rocks, night, Brown, Tree, Sky, completition: 1636.
https://uploads4.wikiart.org/images/adriaen-brouwer/moonlit-landscape.jpg
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡.
gold iphone 6 on persons hand
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1585035885549-fa5fa85d1d9b?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
, genre: photo, completition: 1938.
https://uploads2.wikiart.org/images/hans-bellmer/the-doll-maquette-for-the-doll-s-games-1938-3.jpg
Shackles of a broken love, loosen and drop from my soul
Give me the freedom I've yearned for to fully make me whole
Allow me to search within myself with the ability to find
A love that doesn't hurt my heart nor destroy my mind
I want to be free, just me, myself and I
I want to be free, and let not time pass me by
For so long I have accepted a cloudiness in my space
No more shall endure such pain, for this I shall erase
The time has come for me to make a new change in my life
Questions and answers being sought, appears before my eyes
I want to be free, just me, myself and I
I want to be free, and live a joyful peaceful life.
I choose to embrace peace and happiness within my inner soul
Thanking you for strengthening me and loosening up this hold
Sometimes it may take time for a broken love to heal
But, only if I keep the faith, will a true love be revealed
It's being free to love me, to love myself and I
Time to me is of the essence and it will not pass me by
, genre: religious painting, style: Baroque, tags: Lady.
https://uploads8.wikiart.org/images/giuseppe-maria-crespi/noli-me-tangere.jpg
woman in blue long sleeve dress
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1596703343725-7ca01bda9a45?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
, genre: photo, tags: Water.
https://uploads8.wikiart.org/00188/images/manuel-alcaide-mengual/aequus-b-4.jpg
Marcyliena Morgan, Founder of Harvard’s Hip-Hop Archive, Dies at 75
Her university’s vast collection of albums, scholarly essays and other ephemera helped establish rap as a course of serious study on a par with classical music.
https://t.co/1W1tLToQ9G
I can feel it slipping away-
the love we once shared.
Maybe it was just a dream
or an illusion to make myself
happy
Maybe you really hate me-
maybe you were just being polite.
So much crap-
no more
all gone
Intense emotion faded....
into the abyss.
Soul mates,
gone.
All eyes on me-never end
walking
slowly
away.
The Art World's Finest Desserts: 5 Reasons to Be Thankful | Artnet News
Here are five of the art world's best desserts, from a potent, creamy tea in Seoul to a panna cotta in Upstate New York.
https://t.co/PU1tJHRWER
The torrent of accelerated time without narrative is disorienting our society and fragmenting community, says philosopher Byung-Chul Han. Art can help put the pieces back together.
Byung-Chul Han is a South Korea-born German philosopher and cultural theorist whose recent books include “The Burnout Society” and “The Disappearance of Rituals.” He recently spoke to Nathan Gardels, Noema’s editor-in-chief.
My heart is in your hands. What will you do with it?
I give it freely; I've not had it broken before.
I may not deserve it, but I hope we end together.
We may not make it, but we have to try, right?
How could we sacrifice what we have, something so beautiful.
These are the things dreams are made of, that which we have,
Things sometimes never achieved.
We have.
You tell me you're mine, if I ever want you.
How could you even doubt it?
I never have.
You say you're independent - so am I.
You don't want to be tied down too early.
I'll help you fly.
You say you don't want to spend eternity without me.
What kind of God would do that to us?
Not any God of mine.
Time wasted on meaningless pastimes, without you.
So many things I want you to see, to be with me through.
I can't wait for the day I never leave you, together.
The day we become one, in God's eyes, forever.
Love does not begin to say it all.
After years of training as a campus journalist and participating in district-level feature writing competitions, I have finally received my score on the first ever paper that I did as a college student ─ a whopping 23/50 written in bright red ink. My freshman self was devastated, and questioned the worth of all the years she took in writing various features that her publication adviser was proud of. “Was that all a joke?” she asked. She threw the paper in the nearest trash bin that she saw as soon as she went home to her dormitory, just as how she threw all the confidence she had in writing.
A Tiny Art Fair Takes Over the Chelsea Hotel—and More Juicy Art Gossip | Artnet News
From which shuttered art world haunt has Sofia Coppola been buying dishware.
https://t.co/LeAnuCT0ZC
https://t.co/oBfmzYRbn8 https://t.co/2SNsWIAz7N
I sit on my bed staring at the clock,
Where are you?
It then strikes half past two,
when will you call?
three o'clock and you still haven't called,
Why am I still waiting?
I've sat here since one pm or earlier,
I'm sick of these games you play.
Tampering with my trust in you and making me feel not wanted,
I'm done with this.
But if I'm sick of all this then why do I stick around?
I love you.
You finally call at pm and I'm ready to let you go,
But I want to know where you were.
So where were you while I waited around for you?
You then say you just forgot.
I think about it all while I listen to Numb by Linkin Park
Which reminds me a little of us.
A month passes and I hear from you yet again,
You want my heart to belong to you once more.
Stupid me let's myself fall back in love with you
I know it won't last forever.
I now feel for someone other than you and it is not fair.
So I say goodbye once again.
A couple weeks later, all I think about is you,
Please let me try one more time.
That is all I ask,
Just one date.
