Art in Motion

Dancing is art in motion... a stage is a blank canvas that a choreographer used to create a masterpiece..... we are the dancers -the paint to the canvas- each one a bringing a different color to the picture...

Rainbow Veins

High rise, veins of the avenue
Bright eyes and subtle variations of blue
Everywhere is balanced there like a rainbow above you
Street lights glisten on the boulevard
And cold nights make staying alert so hard
For heaven's sake, keep me awake so I won't be caught off guard
Clearly I am a passerby but I'll find a place to stay
Dear pacific day, won't you take me away?
Small town hearts of the New Year
Brought down by gravity, crystal clear
City fog and brave dialogue converge on the frontier
Make haste, I feel your heartbeat
With new taste for speed, out on the street
Find a road to a humble abode where both of our routes meet
The silver sound is all around and the colors fall like snow
The feeling of letting go, I guess we'll never know

Cheer up and dry your damp eyes and tell me when it rains
And I'll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins
Cuz your heart has a lack of color and we should've known
That we'd grow up sooner or later cuz we wasted all our free time alone

Your nerves gather with the altitude
Exhale the stress so you don't come unglued
Somewhere there is a happy affair, a ghost of a good mood
Wide eyed, panic on the getaway
The high tide could take me so far away
VCR's and motorcars unite on the Seventh Day
A popular gauge will measure the rage of the new Post-Modern Age
Cuz somewhere along the line all the decades align

We were the crashing whitecaps
On the ocean
And what lovely seaside holiday, away
A palm tree in Christmas lights
My emotion
Struck a sparkling tone like a xylophone
As we spent the day alone

Freedom from the Bondage of Pain

Pain inside your heart as if something was trying to get in, but you can't let it. Piercing and stabbing you, but you can't do anything about it. The constant lump in your throat, suffocating your joy. Forgetting the past and moving forward is your supposed goal, but right now you can't seem to help but dwell on it. No one knows the prison of hurt you are trapped in, behind you mask of smiles. The constant raincloud following you around as a constant reminder of the unforgotten. Am I even seeking happiness at present? Or do I want to wallow in my own misery? The confusion of it all rings in your ears. My misery does not like company. It thrives on solitude, eating me out from the inside. There's no changing the clocks -going back and undoing. It's happened. It's over. It's too late. Old wounds never seem to heal completely. They find ways to break open once again, bringing back the familiar hurt and bondage. Is it the bondage to hurt that we fear? Or is it simply that we know nothing else. I am afraid of my hurt. Afraid to face it. Afraid to address it. Afraid to let go of it completely. Almost as if out of terror of new found pain, we stick to the old, the familiar. . . LET GO! We are bearing these burdens that we don't need to carry. God gives us a hope and a peace that passes ALL understanding. When we run to Him, He will lift these burdens from us and set us FREE! He gives us a love that surpasses all, and a future of hope and forgiveness. He can heal any wound, and fill our emptiness with His great love. We need not wallow in self-pity... we have hope!

life is easier in black and white

anything but lukewarm PLEASE!....... I want to feel things with a passion -not an inclination, I want to see things in eye-popping contrast -not gray, I want to be understood -but not predictable, I want to make a difference by being different, I want to do things others have only dreamed about, I want yes! or no! -not maybe... I don't want to blend in to everything else, I want to be RED in a sea of gray, I'm sick of the word "boring", I want to be anything but that. I want to find away to express things without numbing the meaning of my thoughts, I want there to be a way to share this with people, I want to SCREAM REALLY LOUD! or be -completely silent- I hate boring...

a small broken book

Imagine your life as a book. Everything you've ever done put into writing and bound with a leather cover. Now imagine yourself in a little room with a table. On the table is a small book only big enough to hold 17 chapters. The book is bound in brown cracked leather, and on the front in tiny gold letters are the words "the book of Lindsey". As you have well guessed, it is the story of my life, each chapter representing every year I have lived so far. Some of the pages are illustrated with bright colors, and others are more worn, showing smudges where tears fell. Five pages near the end are dog-eared and almost unintelligible anymore due to the smudges and tears. Looking carefully you notice that the pages have been hastily torn from the book and then later someone came and carefully taped them back together. In the corner of the pages there are what appear to have been little smileys and hearts, happy things that were lovingly drawn there with care and then later became icons of sadness, unable to enjoy them any longer it was ripped apart from the other pages, and attempted to be forgotten. But broken as they may be, those pages represent a part of my life, and therefore remain in my book. Although I may wish to forget them, to wish they I could go back and erase everything, they stay in my book as a painful reminder of those days. Sadly you turn to the next page, on it you see written in a small rather shaky print are the words "How priceless is your unfailing love, oh God! People take refuge in the shadow or your wings." Psalm 36:7 Although sometimes there are parts of the book that are broken and painful to look at or read, you begin to notice how someone has gone through the book, wiped away any of the stains, and written in the most perfectly perfect way "I love you more than anything you could ever ask or imagine"... you stop a minute and think about it. Wow could it really be true that someone could have such unconditional love and care for that little broken book? Does the Creator of all the books care so much about each and every one of them with such utter devotion? Yes!... Now follow me with your imagination to another book, this one has your name on the cover, now open it up. Does it have the perfectly perfect "I love you more than you can ask or imagine" faithfully written through it? Have you given your book to the One that created it in the first place?