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Aaron's Writing
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The Greatest Love
By Aaron Boutilier
Love the man, but hate the prejudice within him;
Love the sun, but hate the clouds which make it dim;
Love the peace, but hate the wars we always fight;
Love the day, but hate the loneliness of night;
Love the pleasure, hate the pain which comes along,
Love the child, and love him more when he goes wrong.
By Aaron Boutilier
Love the man, but hate the prejudice within him;
Love the sun, but hate the clouds which make it dim;
Love the peace, but hate the wars we always fight;
Love the day, but hate the loneliness of night;
Love the pleasure, hate the pain which comes along,
Love the child, and love him more when he goes wrong.
Are You Really My Friend?
By Aaron Boutilier
You say, 'Call any time!'
I've left messages,
You don't call back for days.
Are you really my friend?
You say you'll do things that never get done.
You set your guidelines,
And you stifle mine.
Are you really my friend?
We do nothing together outside these four walls.
Is this a problem of yours?
Or is it all mine?
Are you really my friend?
If I'm feeling sad or lonely,
Because you aren't there,
If I go to bed wondering whether you care,
Are you really my friend?
Are you anyone's friend?
By Aaron Boutilier
You say, 'Call any time!'
I've left messages,
You don't call back for days.
Are you really my friend?
You say you'll do things that never get done.
You set your guidelines,
And you stifle mine.
Are you really my friend?
We do nothing together outside these four walls.
Is this a problem of yours?
Or is it all mine?
Are you really my friend?
If I'm feeling sad or lonely,
Because you aren't there,
If I go to bed wondering whether you care,
Are you really my friend?
Are you anyone's friend?
Society
By Aaron Boutilier
Machines take up their faithful duty,
While muscles wither under beauty;
The vulture ravishes the dove,
As pleasure loses sight of love.
Plastic walls surround the people,
As clouds disguise the awesome steeple;
Hearts pump their slush into the brains
Of robots with their acid veins.
Miracles prolong the years
Of saying words that no one hears,
In solitary little tombs
So far away from gentle wombs.
Scrambled minds with vacant faces
Occupy these concrete places,
Searching for a better way
Which really died with yesterday.
By Aaron Boutilier
Machines take up their faithful duty,
While muscles wither under beauty;
The vulture ravishes the dove,
As pleasure loses sight of love.
Plastic walls surround the people,
As clouds disguise the awesome steeple;
Hearts pump their slush into the brains
Of robots with their acid veins.
Miracles prolong the years
Of saying words that no one hears,
In solitary little tombs
So far away from gentle wombs.
Scrambled minds with vacant faces
Occupy these concrete places,
Searching for a better way
Which really died with yesterday.
The Journey
By Aaron Boutilier
Tiny silver rivers trickle down the glass,
While streams of misty trees so quickly pass;
The early morning haze shadows the green,
Of these unfamiliar products of my dream.
The rocking motion calms my weary brain,
Through endless miles of soft and gentle rain;
The progress of my journey pierces time,
As my mind drifts back to those I've left behind.
My destination now draws ever near,
As beats of joy must blend with those of fear;
I'll revel in this world where I must roam,
Until it's time to make my journey home.
By Aaron Boutilier
Tiny silver rivers trickle down the glass,
While streams of misty trees so quickly pass;
The early morning haze shadows the green,
Of these unfamiliar products of my dream.
The rocking motion calms my weary brain,
Through endless miles of soft and gentle rain;
The progress of my journey pierces time,
As my mind drifts back to those I've left behind.
My destination now draws ever near,
As beats of joy must blend with those of fear;
I'll revel in this world where I must roam,
Until it's time to make my journey home.
Books
By Aaron Boutilier
Classic books by famous men
Satisfy a secret yen;
These immortal words I find
Penetrate my hungry mind.
Romantic fables of the ages
Lure my heart into the pages,
Blending tales of fact and fiction,
Assuring me of my conviction.
Sweet poetry lifts up my soul
And carries out its' soothing role;
Among these books upon the shelf,
Someday, I hope to find myself.
By Aaron Boutilier
Classic books by famous men
Satisfy a secret yen;
These immortal words I find
Penetrate my hungry mind.
Romantic fables of the ages
Lure my heart into the pages,
Blending tales of fact and fiction,
Assuring me of my conviction.
Sweet poetry lifts up my soul
And carries out its' soothing role;
Among these books upon the shelf,
Someday, I hope to find myself.
Thank you very much, Srividya!:)
By Aaron Boutilier
How sweet to look upon a perfect face,
And admire a perfect form,
Blessed with beauty, charm and grace,
A gift of merely being born.
How quick we overlook the mind,
Which may be less than keen;
To inner faults we are struck blind,
When beauty steals the scene.
But what of those who aren't so fair,
Who hasten to announce,
That people shouldn't really care,
"It's what's inside that counts!"
Yet people rarely see inside,
When first they chance to meet;
So often inner beauty hides,
And fruitlessly accepts defeat.