Reggaeton

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reggaeton

Reggaeton

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Have you ever By tremayne

have u ever lived a life u were never meant to live.
have u ever lost the ones that you held dear.
have u ever seen things you were never meant to see,
or did somethings you were never meant to do.
welcome to a world you will regret.
i live this life,
things i want to change but cant do nothing.
i thought it was the end but its only the beginning.
some say feeling pain is just the worst,
but to me this is just the first verse.
even thou the pain is stabbing you,
around the corner a good thing will come thru.
im not the best at saying words of inspiration,
but this world will be a contamination.

couminty walk

CommunityWalk Map - B.A.K.E.R

Weekend post Power by Edwina Matthews

To some power is guns
To some power is knifes
To some power is the ability to read, and write.
To some power is control
To some power is a fist
To some like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. power was words.
To some power is like a trapped animal trying to get out of a cage.
To some power is love
To some power is art
To some power is money
To me power is knowledge
So what is power to you?

voicethread:glogster

Glogster

Weekend Post :Nature By: anees akbar

Nature is mighty
Nature is strong
Nature is usually always right
Nature is rarely ever wrong
Nature is beauty
Nature is moody
Nature is smart
Nature always has the greater part
Nature is blue
Nature is green
Nature is every color possibly seen
Nature is true
Nature is beaming
Nature is dreaming
Nature is in every place
Nature is always with grace
Nature is true
Nature is you
Nature is me
Nature will forever be free.

Weekend post:A Man In His Life by Yehuda Amichai

A Man In His Life by Yehuda Amichai

A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything.