The stage was all she had left

"Poor, rattled, and bruised; band I have one more selection. Some of you may not understand the life of someone whose mind has been open to all forms of thinking. I don't know why we sometimes have to live and suffer but I too see suffering. I too wish I could save the world. This song is for all of my pain that I feel inside. This song is for all of my imperfections. Lord have mercy on us all, please. All I have left is this stage and this microphone. I will sing this last selection for tonight, I will sing to heal the world and the people in it," she explained before her song. After her song, she placed the microphone back on it's stand and exited stage right, she then went home and went to sleep. Every time she got knocked down or felt the woes of the world, she got on stage. Remaining anonymous, she even took to the stage when times were good, for the stage was all she had left.
(Applause)
The End.

The typewriter is all I have left

I will remain anonymous because I've given everything away and the typewriter is all I have left so here's a joke about a donkey and a monkey that I just typed:
One day a donkey walked up to a monkey and grabbed his tail. The monkey screamed in a monkey's tone and told the donkey in his language to stop pulling his tail or he would pin his tail to the wall.
Get it, pin the tail on the donkey. Ha ha ha.

Academic Peace

The tone of her dialect was certain. There were no bombs or hostile invitations. There was silence. In the midst of an intellectual conversation, the communication was organized. The casual intervention between guest, was just that, "casual." If there was conflict, then there were consequences. The consequences involved productive thinking because if not then the mind would go stale and have to be purged of harmful thoughts. Gateways of the mind would later open leading to insanity because using the brain requires thinking. Using the brain requires meditation to satisfy the temple. To much negative influence can result in violence. Violence, leads to pain. Violence, creates doubt. Violence, creates fear that is only resolved by warriors. This intellect leads to strategic thinking, strategic thinking to outsmart the enemy. Strategic thinking that strains the body to achieve victory. When there is temptation, there has to be discipline. Discipline creates awareness to conserve. Hostile creatures create war. Hostile creatures resolves conflict with lack of empathy for others around them. Life is precious. Without life, nothing exist. Ambitious people often forget that every spec of dust has it's place on earth, to much consumption often leads to emptiness with trash to fill the space in the end. Children that play and grow old later cherish the silence as time passes by because they too have to learn that everything must come to an end. It's wise to read. It's wise to walk away. It's wise to be patient. It's also wise to understand that some people are dealt a different hand and do not respond accordingly. Why are leaders often left alone? Why do their children have to suffer in their wake? Why does the orphan question the existence of God? The human body often yearns for peace. Without it, there's no goal.  When someone speaks, it's wise to listen and create productive conversation instead of a hostile response. The result of such noble criteria will eventually lead to academic peace. 

Dirty

Wesley, was his name. He ran for president three times and failed every time. He was born in the dirt. Bred in the school of hard knocks, he learned that being clean would leave you in the slumps. Wesley's father taught him that no one likes a do-good, clean-cut, puritan. In this upbringing, Wesley saw the true nature of human beings. In the final days of his campaign, he concluded that people somehow enjoyed being treated like trash. He studied abusive relationships and determined that the reason the woman kept coming back was because the man kept abusing her. No one cares about the lifeless or the poor, left to eat trash, unless it's them. He concluded that about ninety-percent of people were selfish or envious, and would eventually become greedy snobs. In this assumption, Wesley spent most of his life in a small room. He was left with no choice but to be a pessimist and regretted ever being born. His ability to love, was never to be shown in front of people. "People like it dirty," this was his belief, and if they say anything otherwise then they're lying. Men want sex and women want to be in charge. Children want candy and you have to force them to read books. After losing his forth run for president and seeing an evil tyrant win, Wesley returned to isolation. He saw veterans and men who died for the freedom of the world being treated like dirt. Most of them lacked the power and knowledge to better themselves. They were at a disadvantage to the system. Wesley became a symbol to them. He became a god. If the people voted for trash and didn't have enough sense to notice it, then they too, deserved to be treated like dirt. In reality, Wesley hated the fact that his father was correct. Realizing that people spent most of their time trying to clean up dirt, he never married and spent most of his time at the graveyard, burying dead bodies in and with dirt. In his last rebellion, he took all of the broken people with nothing to lose, and overthrew the people in power. He developed so many followers that at the end of his reign he ruled the world. When he died, he returned to the dirt just like everyone else.

Revelations

I looked into the eyes of a harlot today, a descendant of Judah. In her eyes I saw pain and a yearning to be pure again. She no longer wears white at her wedding. She became a harlot because her husband could not provide for her, it turns out he also had 10 mistresses on the side. Lord knows what her daddy did to her. Her children have been abandoned and submitted to the system. They are orphans now. She has been left to sell herself for sexual favors in return. She has been left for dead. In her eyes I saw pain. When I saw this, I stopped, and my lust for her turned into sorrow. I cried out for my own soul to be forgiven, I cried out for my own heart to understand why she died in front of me. She died of an overdose and I tried to save her. Her life was worth nothing to man but she now rest in the hands of the most high. I'm sure she did not put in a good report on the other side of what has happened to her here on earth. Once a goddess of life; now a dead woman, with not even enough money for her own funeral. Raised to know the difference between right and wrong but left with no choice but to submit to the evils of nature. Lord help us all. You've shown so much mercy, yet we're still lost. I'm not a priest, nor am I a member of a clergy, but I think I know why the black flag remains in the sky. 

Dark Stars

Word on the street is that your daddy provided the spark that lit the flame.
Then once you shined you gave off so much light that everyone knew your name.
Shine until you drop.
That's how you get paid.
You're a star in the center of a mass parade.
"You," turns to "it," and darkness surrounds the light.
I wonder if that's why they call it a star, shooting at the wee hours of the night.
Once the shining stops, it's consumed by the darkness.
Deep into the darkness of space, it burns out, waiting to shine again.
The reds, greens, and blues that provided so much color have now faded to black as other stars take over the shine.
Only those in the dark can see the light my friend.
But just because it's dark doesn't mean that the star is not there.
And then, the moon comes out...
The blind are given sight, they too can feel the vibes.
But can they see?
Stay at a distance or you may get burned by the heat.
You're not normal, the physics of the brightness is equated, summing you up as a freak.
If only you could shine everyday of the week.
Too much attention is given to the light, but even a dessert can be hot at night.
Light a candle and put it in the air.
When the flame burns out, light a flare.
Is a star that doesn't give off light, a star?
Maybe it's a dark star sitting in space, waiting to shine again.

Mr. Peeper's Amazing Hat

"Excuse me! Mr. Peeper, you forgot your hat...Mr. Peeper, wait..." Damion said, rushing down to catch the famous and amazing: Mr. Peeper.
Damion was spellbound by the details of the hat that Mr. Peeper had left behind. While picking it up, he could feel the energy within the fine sewn remnants of color. Damion couldn't help but to borrow it for the evening. He had reservations for the memorial ceremony that night for terror victims, and he wanted to turn heads that evening but there was something tempting about Mr. Peeper's amazing hat that he could not do without. The hat matched every inch of his red, white, and blue outfit. When he stepped on the scene that evening, everyone stopped to greet him and he became the main attraction. He found himself dancing with some of the finest women that evening. Damion couldn't believe all of the new friends he had made. People were lining up all over the place just to get a picture of him in his fancy outfit and Mr. Peeper's hat.
At the end of the night, with all of the stars in the sky, Damion's day was complete.
He returned Mr. Peeper's hat where he left it and would never forget the moments he got to spend with all of the people while wearing Mr. Peeper's amazing hat.
The next day, Damion saw Mr. Peeper wearing his hat again and he sat back and reflected on the one night that he got to wear the amazing hat that made him the show stopper.
"What an amazing hat. I sure wish it were mine," Damion thought to himself.
That evening, Mr. Peeper left the hat in the same spot where Damion had found it the first time, but this time he left it with a letter for Damion.
The letter read:
Thanks for the great evening at the Grand Towers, you didn't notice me without my hat but I noticed you. Since the hat gave you so much joy and you returned it, it may be better for you to have it.

Sincerely
Mr. Peeper