Challenge guitarsnpens

I love to write books, write songs, write really cool poetry (movie scripted style I can tell you an entire story in a couple pages with twists and plot development I call them five minute movies stuff people actually enjoy reading). I also love to play guitar it kinda goes with the song writing and I play a little piano. I am into any sport while at the same time am able to get into anything fun even girly stuff (In other words I am the kind of guy who can enjoy doing the girly stuff with the right person not just tolerate it). I like movies honestly I like most things that are good about life except vegetables their bad for your health anything that is the same color as radioactive materials I stay away from.

My tastes are wide ranging I enjoy every genre for the obvious reasons The notebook for romance, The Matrix for sci fi action, spider man for the comic superheros even serious movies and comedies.

I like some of probably every kind of music from slow acoustic rock like second hand serenade or jason mraz, to piano jim brickman or amy lee, to country just about anyone good, rock just about anyone with talent, and i can even appreciate classical ye to even include opera I guess Im a wierd cat. Oh yeah pop r and b, and some though very little rap are ok too. Yes I even like some christian rock

Anything by Dean Koontz, James Patterson, Tom Clancy, any classical work, I can just about read anything even educational text books I'm silly like that I love to learn new things.

I don't like to much drama or people who are mean to anyone or animals, I don't enjoy being around people who are always down and cannot be made happy.

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I'm thirty one years old, a really good person who will be friends with anyone who is themselves also a good person at heart. I strive for a life of happiness and I enjoy the little things as well as the big. I care about people and animals. I try not to judge people cause everyones lot in life is different we all have our own struggles and are faced with tough decisions who am I to judge someone though I will judge horrendous acts of violence and hatred for those are things which I hate myself. I'm here looking to meet friends and maybe to find someone who will illuminate my life like a lighthouse across the ocean on a foggy night. I'm not without flaws but who isn't just for the record I was born with a cleft palate (no roof in my mouth) though it has been fixed I do have a slightly and I do mean slightly high pitched voice.

THE PORTRAIT by Me


My hard soled shoes echoed lightly,
across the museums marble floor.
As I tried to find a moments piece,
in a life where rest and happiness were no more.
I saw nothing that peaked my interest,
and I wondered the thought out loud.
Over looking masterpieces of wonderful things,
lost in my depressed disdainful cloud.
The curator must have heard my insane ranting,
for he turned and said to me.
“Sir I believe down the next hallway you’ll find,
the painting you came to see.”
I thought the man a bit arrogant,
but his mysterious tone did peak my interest.
As I neared the painting it was surrounded by such an audience,
I must admit I was impressed.
Not from the painting of course,
for from a distance it was as plain as all the rest.
But from the surprising facial expressions of the viewers,
or at least the state in which they left.
One man laughed insanely to himself screaming,
“It was all for nothing, nothing at all.”
While another man wailed, “This cannot be,”
as he beat his fist helplessly against the wall.
A middle aged woman questioned herself,
“If I would have known sooner could I have changed?”
While another man denounced the image before his eyes saying,
“From hell that’s where I’ll tell you! From hell is where this picture came!”
As my feet worked their way to the front,
The oily image changed right before my eyes.
Although I too wished that I could defame it,
I knew the portrait did not lie.
I saw an image of the man I was appear,
adorned by gold and wealth.
A self made man on top of the world,
proud of his arrogant self.
Then I saw my kids, my wife, my love, and even my money,
begin to pass me and disappear from sight.
Though I let my family and wife vanish into the colors,
I caught and held every dollar with all of my might.



Then I watched in horror,
as the money my fists clenched so tightly turned to dust.
While my body decayed into a crippled old man,
alone and sad a sentence just.
Staring at the familiar stranger,
who in the end lost all in the pursuit of wealth.
I admit I too fell prey to the message,
and began to cry myself.
I turned my head quickly away,
for I could no longer bear to witness the proof.
The vanity and selfishness that consumed me,
the terrible bitter pill of truth.
Yet amongst the tortured souls around me,
one poor widowed woman wasn’t terrified by the ghastly scene.
I asked her why and she turned to me with a smile
and said, “It’s the most beautiful portrait I’ve ever seen.”
What if a picture could tell you who you are and where your going,
instead of how you were or where you’ve been.
Would the portrait be pleasant or horrible?
Would your own eyes staring at you, appear as foe or friend?
And what if that portrait existed,
in the form of a small still voice in your soul.
Would you stop for a moment and listen,
or would you be too busy and never know?