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Let What's To Be...Be!

Don't be rude.
Don't try to be...
Crazy.
Don't ever be lazy.
And don't choose to be a fool.
With something to prove...
To those who approve.

Just...
Don't be rude.
Don't try to be...
Crazy.
Don't ever be lazy.
And don't choose to be a fool.
With something to prove.

Be you...
And let what's to be...
Be!
And free yourself from...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bothered

Take everything I want to,
Break down everytime Im told to,
You steal every line I cling to,
And find out ever lie Ive told you.
And so you want to help me,
Rushing in my state,
So you wanna help me.
And losing all my time.
So you wanna know me.
I step aside my hate,
Who said you ever told me?
You lie, you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, yeah.
A puppet in my hand Ill hold you,
Strung out on the lines I sold you,
And boterhed by the time I reach you,
Stepped in, by time, I fall.
And still you want to mold me,
Rushing in my state,
So you wanna mold me.
And losing all my time.

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song performed by Candlebox
Added by Lucian Velea
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There Will Never Be Another

There will never be another
Who will love me like you.
There will never be another
Who could hold me, mold me.
There will never be another
Who could love me purely.
No, there will never be another
Who has loved me like you.
And I know that there will never be another love
Who could ever be the love that you are.
cause you had so much to lose, but still you gave it up
For your scars.
But thats the way you are.
And if I spent my life attending universities,
Educated in the wisdom of men,
And if I could even quote a guy like socrates,
Even then,
I couldnt comprehend
That there will never be another
Who will love me like you.

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song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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You have to create a track record of breaking your own mold, or at least other people's idea of that mold.

quote by William Hurt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Make your mold. The best flux in the world will not make a usable shape unless you have a mold to pour it in.

quote by Robert Collier
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Future is Clouded

The Future is clouded
What does it hold?
The future is shrouded
But the future is my mold

But is the future really my mold?
I have realized though, in this life
That everything I do has repercussions 10 fold
And that life must have some Strife

I do not wish to have complete control
There needs to be some surprise
If it didn’t life would have a whole
Life without surprise, all else dies

But maybe that is why everything dies
So we all will appreciate life
So we appreciate the surprise
Of being alive
So we realize life is worth living and that life is rife

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poem by Aaron Burr
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Wicked Angel

Wicked angel, I see your thorns,
Wicked angel, I feel your scorn,
Wicked angel, so forlorn,
Wicked angel, heart so torn

And now, I know where I must be,
in this place I fail to see,
what's right in front of me,
off the beaten path I'm free

In these times, of doing what we're told,
we're left alone in a world so cold,
now it's time, to break the mold,
wicked angel, your lie unfolds

I feel the heat, but not the blade,
I've buried my head, too deep for shade,
and now I know why my vision fades,
but this price, I've already paid

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poem by Corey Culler
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Grateful For This Consciousness

Mold and crafted,
Shaped and tweaked.
Here I am
With memories bittersweet.
And I stand on my feet,
Knowing who and what I am.
Grateful for this consciousness,
And blessed to be this man!

Bold and unafraid to speak,
About exposed injustices...
I observe on urban streets!
I realize my connection
Is linked within me deep.
I am so much a part of this,
So much I am restless...
And I can not sleep!

Told of limitations born
Upon my heritage.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Here's My Heart

my heart has heard You say
'oh, come and talk with me'
and my heart responds from deep within
'my precious Lord, I'm coming.'

so here's my heart, Father, here's my heart
You have filled it so deeply I cannot contain it anymore
here's my heart, Father, here's my heart
now I offer it up to be broken and changed
Lord, I ask that You mold me and use me
here's my heart

I long for a pure heart,
that I might see Your face
a broken and contrite spirit
that I might know Your grace

so here's my heart, Father, here's my heart
You have filled it so deeply I cannot contain it anymore
here's my heart, Father, here's my heart

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poem by Julia Wakeman
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Indian Pipes

THE pipes of peace! Erect and white
In this dark, piney place where light
May enter seldom,—thus they grow
Up from the mold and mosses low,
Like ghostly shadows of the night.

This was the spot,—I know it well.
Here died the chief, so legends tell:
From out the shade a traitor dart
Sped to its mark in that brave heart;
I found an arrow where he fell.

And deep below the moss and mold
They say his bones lie stark and cold;
Yet never dared men seek him here,—
It is so still, so dark, so drear,
The pines so lone, his grave so old.

O pipes of peace, why do ye spring
From this red soil, from that dread Thing?

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poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 22, Issue 6 (1897)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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