Why are weeds considered ugly plants?
They are but the most beautiful anomaly in this cruel and unfair world.
Despite the lack of water and necessary care,
they still manage to find a way through the tightest and inhospitable of cracks,
chasing the warm kiss of the sun,
and to be showered by the cleansing rain.
But when they do overcome their hardships,
greedy, unrelenting hands reach down,
and strip them from the earth,
pulling out their roots,
and throwing them away.
Then the place that they worked so hard to exist in,
is taken over by some eye-pleasing blossom.
Real beauty is not found in those that are given everything,
but rather in that of striving to simply be,
to overcome obstacles,
and rise above,
no matter the circumstance.
There is something beautiful about that fight and determination,
and nothing profound about a flower that is nourished with constant love and affection,
because they will only grow to be weak and fragile.

I do believe my days withing these
Concrete ashram walls are
Coming to an end.

It might be a slow ending, but
It'll be a good one.
It began the day I saw the

Beautiful truth behind the ugly
Mask of everyday insignificance.
Beauty and meaning;

Soft hand in a mild one.
Water strength.
Cement frailty.

Thoughts are like air; find their
Way from A to another
A.

Looking at my friend fitting
A door, cursing at the promise of
Adjustments,

Or enjoying the way the Project Manager
Leaves us never knowing whether
He's joking or not with a face

As cold as his project's foundations.
I fall in love with Life every day.
Even when I hate it.

I've learned that I never stop learning.
I'll be a slightly different man tomorrow,
Yet still myself.

Always still myself.
There is wisdom in flexibility; the
Holding on to nothing,

Even ones definition of oneself.
I was a construction worker.
Now, I'm a

Construction worker.
I take comfort in the fact
That the only comfort I'll

Ever really need, is the
One I give
Myself.

I never saw the value in
Getting back together.

Gone is gone.
Dead is dead.

The world is just too huge an
Adventure

To give up a new one to
Go back.

Back.
Life is too short to

Embrace anything that begins with
*Yester.

I put my hands in the air
And surrender all my money
To a heart that
Begs with one hand
And robs with the other.

I don't judge you, little girl.
I just want you to know
That there are more comfortable
Ways to
Joy.

Change is healthy. Change can be
Growth. A smile is like a kiss; it feels
Good to both.
So here, take all my
Change.

There is no way of getting
Out of here. So we
May as well enjoy
The act of
Staying.

Politeness. Common decency.
Giving more than two *****
About how others may
Feel.

Some carry a torch until their
Hands blister scolded in
Futility.
Most of us pull our pants

Down laughing and
Put it out. But above the sink,
Between magic marker genitalia
And profanities,

Someone has written
Something that might just
Fuel a fire
That's dying today.

*You don't need
A mirror;
You are
Beautiful.

Coward sun
Hiding from a
Little
Rain

Blackberries, fat with summer rays,
Burst sure and true, like ocean waves
Against my tongue they carry too
The scent, the touch, the taste of you.

Each bramble stripped with greedy hands
Felt no qualm from scarlet brands
Those such marks would wash away but
Stains of you will still remain.

The scratches heal, I’ll brush away
Those nettle prongs that stick and stay
I’ll brush the bracken, soothe the sting
But thoughts of you will always cling.

Those onyx beads, their shiny spheres
Imbued with Sunshine, wet with tears;
The taste is fading from my mouth
Their waves of sweetness drawing out.

Maybe begging you to stay was the reason

it was 5:30 a.m. and you told me I wasn't the one

and all of these poems are ******* and have nothing to do with anything that is going on in my head

but three months ago I tried to **** myself and you wouldn't answer your phone.

when you saw me the next night you told me everyone has bad days.

With beer in hand and stagger to your walk I believed you

Cause you were right,

everyone has bad days, I would never deny anyone of that

even my bad days are better than others

I have never had my stomach pumped,

I have never drank till I have passed out

I have never been in a car accident

but I have tasted the cold bitter remnants of what love was supposed to be after swallowing one too many pills

I have opened my skin in the attempt rid my blood of you

I have stained sheet after sheet with what I thought beautiful was,

still all I can hear is you preaching that it's just another bad day