Processed Beauty

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Choice word whittled into those last few pages.
More sweet than a thousand words
from the author’s mind,
but isn’t that how it is.
The processed beauty we love
is never the same as a single word from an honest heart.
In all our processing we filter out sincerity
and replace it with conformity.
We pluck mistakes and cover blemishes.
And in our human way we seek out beauty,
but the beauty we were created for
is not the same as the beauty we walk towards.

The beauty our hearts crave is found in the struggle for the victory,
not the trophy placed gently into our hands.
Yet we walk toward the posters,
as we walk with a crowd of fools.
Have we forgotten how to seek truth?

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Money Said

 

Money said,
come see the other side
Money said,
I promise a new life
Money said,
come breathe in the new skies

Just like all the other girls
she knew her future
She could see it in the eyes of her mother

So, when she heard Money say,
come see the other side,
she knew that this
was her one chance to fly

She thought for a moment
“It’s too good to be true,”
but she knew that it needed to be
She wasn’t gonna let poverty
chain up her hands and feet

Money said and Money promised
everything she needed in life

Money said,
come see the other side
Money said,
I promise a new life
Money said,
come breathe in the new skies

And that’s when she stepped over the line
She gave her hand and said good bye

She left singing,
“take me to the other side.”

Little did she know that Money lies
Little did she know that Money is a man
Little did she know…

A weeks ride from home
and she wasn’t sure
where she was anymore,
but she trusted Money
because his lips were made of honey
and golden promises for tomorrow

She made it to the other side,
but there was nothing Money promised
and everything he didn’t

In a dark room,
with chained feet,
she looked like eve,
but she had just left Eden

No-where to go
No-way to run
The darkness fell
on her that night
and she found out that Money lies.

27 million women, children and men world-wide.
98% of  sex trafficking victim are women and children.
12-14 yrs is the average age of girls caught in sex trafficking.
approximately 7 years is the life expectancy of someone after being caught in sexual slavery.
Violence, threats and false promises of a better future are some of the things used to keep men, women and children in sexual slavery.
99% of victims have not been rescued… yet.

For  for more information on human trafficking you can go to: http://www.thea21campaign.org

If you see something, say something… 
Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-888-3737-888

 

To my little sister :

To my little sister,

As much as I want to tell you, “beautiful don’t listen when they tell you who to be,” I won’t because it doesn’t matter all that much, the things I say.

I don’t feel the need to the pump you full of the phrases you will hear a thousand times, like”be yourself,” “hang in there,” and “follow you heart.” Pinterest and cat posters will give you your fill without my assistance. I can remind you to run from evil and seek out the truth with all you have and I will, but there’s so much more…

What about when you fall? You see, never in my entire life have I ever heard what to do when you forget to be yourself, when you can’t hold on any longer or your heart leads you down the wrong path for the thousandth time in a row. It may feel like you could fly straight forever, but eventually you will fall. That is life, that is humanity on it’s best behavior. The good news is that life is not about perfection, because perfection does not exist.  It is about what you do when you fall.

Everyone has a remedy for this plague. One claims to put you back on your feet, another will make your bruises heal, and this one will numb the pain. We try the antidotes one after another and we never find one that’s good enough or even works for more than a moment. Like a bunch of addicts we pop pills until the day we die, but that is not something that I want you to ever struggle with.

It may sound like white noise to many, but I say Jesus. Whether you fall or stand is not very important, because you are guaranteed to fall, rather it’s the hand you choose to hold in the darkness. The One you let pick up your pieces, that is what matters.

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Sitting in the shadows with her own hand,
over her mouth.
Sitting in the shadows
can’t find a way out.
Sitting in the shadows
she cried,
because it was like
she already died.
All these years she’s been silent.
If her life had taught her anything
it was to be quiet.
If she had learned one thing it was to taste mild.
Silent and mild brought her in the shadows,
thought she craved the light.

To escape with life she needed to let go of the lies –
You were made to be silent.
You’re words don’t matter.
You’re not strong enough to stand up.
You’re just another girl, no one will listen to you.

But I say no more. No more silence. No more mild.
Let His truth seep into the dark spots we hide.
Let His truth bring freedom and His freedom bring love
and doesn’t love change everything?

Go on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I looked to the sun
and it bid me no farewell

I smiled to the daisies
and they turned their faces from me

The rain refused to play
one last melody for me

And so I turned my face to the heavens
and I shrugged my shoulders solemnly
A simple nod was all I needed
to know I should go on

Mirror, Mirror on The Wall

I cried mirror, mirror on the wall

Who’s the fairest of them all

He whispered lies inside my head

He told me how to dress

And feel

He said I could be perfect

If I’d only listen

And I’m sad to say

I didn’t even question

Why or how he would do these things

I simply went along

And changed a few things

All so harmless they did seem

Then slowly I saw feelings change

Until I felt numb

to everything

Empty, lost and sad I found

My face so perfect on a magazine

And yet, I didn’t feel a thing

I looked around and saw these girls

Looking at me longingly

And trying just to be like me

If only they knew who I am inside

Just maybe they might change their mind

And for the first time I looked in the mirror

and asked a question, he could not answer

Mirror, mirror on the wall why and how did you do these things?

Can I go back to who I once was?

Can you fill back up my empty soul,

And give back feeling to these bones?

Mirror, Mirror on the wall

I don’t want to be the fairest of them all…

I simply want to be real again

I Like This Picture of My Cellulite: A 19 Year Old’s Journey To Self-Acceptance.

We are all beautiful imperfections. The sooner we can accept that the better it is for us. “You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit which is so precious to God.” ~1 Peter 3:4

The Manifest-Station

Dear Readers, Jen here. The post below was written by a 19 year old student. I love that I have teens following the site! I am hoping to develop a series for young writers to express themselves. It is my great honor to be a platform for these beautiful voices. If you would like to send a piece in please email it to submissions@jenniferpastiloff.com. We want you to be heard. We are listening. See you all in London.

And I Like This Picture of My Cellulite by Victoria Erickson.

A Young Woman’s journey to self acceptance and appreciation.

Now, I’m not the cute blonde on the left but rather the more prominent, jean-jacket covered, cellulite charging, woman to the right.

And the first thing I thought of when I saw this picture was how HAPPY I look: I’m jubilant, radiant, fresh home from my first year of college and ready…

View original post 674 more words

The Clock on the Wall

The clock on the wall

knows life

much better than me

 

the hands of the clock

they know to move slowly

and they still make it on time

 

the tick of the clock

it stays on beat

and doesn’t venture off

 

the one knows to give the two a turn

and the eleven to the twelve

 

Even the springs and bolts and pieces

have wisdom

they know to stay in their place

But how boring it would be to be a clock

and never venture off

Innocent

What fools we are,

to by our own strength,

lock ourselves away.

 

Our new ideas,

meant to advance,

have only set us back.

 

Our lies,

meant to hold off punishment,

will be exposed.

And in the time until,

our faults only grow.

 

We are  murders of the innocent;

justified by foolish excuses.

They may be believed by the ones you see,

but it is the one you don’t

that matters.

 

The whispers of the bound,

have reached His ears.

 

The inventor,

can see our inventions clearly.

 

He knows our lies,

and sees through our excuses.

 

All while He hears the cry,

of the innocent graves.

 

Who is willing,

to not let their sins,

lock them away

but to give away the key instead?

 

Who is willing?

 

Who is willing,

to step away,

from these man-made inventions;

created in the heart,

poisoning the whole body.

 

To go back to,

to the only laws,

that have ever worked.

It starts within each person.

 

The lies,

that poison each side.

Can’t we see our foolishness?

 

Who is protecting the innocent?

Who stands up for them?

What reasons do the governments have,

to end their lives?

 

If we will not stand up for them,

If we will not cry out,

on their behalf,

Who will?