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Array
(
[sid] => 84550
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Short Of breath
[time] => 2005-02-15 17:41:59
[hometext] => beauty is in the eye of the beholder.....(maybe this poem wont make sense to you...i had to read it a couple of times for it to make sense to myself,feedback is greatly appreciated
[bodytext] => Inside my brain there is a captivating twist to my confidence An unassuming linger in the back of my clouded mind, Swimming haze struggles to breathe the air of the profoundly beautiful Only to come up short of breath. And there I lie at the shore of insane humanity With its irony and sarcasm waves floating over me Wrapping me in its intensity, so quickly carried away. And there I lie trying to breathe the air of the profoundly beautiful, Stuck amongst the sidelines at times where I should be in the game life plans for me, If only this, if only that If only all the if only's can float away into a dimension of non-existence Rather to stay awake In the dimension to which they are undesirable And there I lie trying to breathe the air of the profoundly beautiful and catch myself short of breath Struggling between the mysteries and deceit that lay so carefully underneath the grains of secrets. Amongst the most strangest beauty lies the unseen, The one where beyond the eyes is where the treasure hides away from the obvious In the very pupil of your soul, Lies the beholder of all that is beauty and all that will be beauty, So quickly matching faces to his expectations and views on the meaning so many search for What is true beauty? Is it the portrait America shines before us of rail thin bodies Or ones made out of plastic? Or is true beauty the one that leaves me lying there in the shore trying to breathe the air of the profoundly beautiful and finding myself short of breath, Only to find my breath in the air supply of the beholder, Getting drenched beneath the eyes that seem to hold the stars and all their wisdom Beneath the stars that seem to hold al the beauty I’ve ever projected In his eyes a world of shooting diamonds and blazing fireballs In his eyes one word screams out As it reaches to the surface it finds itself short of breath, Beautiful. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 30 [informant] => xxbreathlessx [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => PoemsonBeauty )
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