There must be something beautiful
in this sick sad tired little world
like the prettiest little tree
swaying in the wind
the one the lonely drunkard
chose to hang himself in

there is always beauty somewhere
depending what perspective takes
in a picture of a broken girl
in **** she is torn apart inside
as she tries to hide her pain
yet her eyes betray her telling
a story of a thousand words in vain

the beauty lies in love that hasn't died
it's in the perception lever
and the place you stand
so take my hand and journey with me
I'll show you no such thing
as right or wrong in man

the dead student with a needle
in his arm next to the best friend
who insisted when he resisted
with survivor's guilt and endless torment
he changes himself fermenting
a desire to never forget
now he spends his years counseling
those still trapped in hopelessness

there's beauty within persisting
behind every so called sin
so when in seeking you shall find
all God's awful grace sublime

this pen is flowing ink through its tip
into my notebook of hardship and love
with a rubbery grip so my fingers don't slip
else I'd lose control
as the words flow through me
and become
a part of my soul

my body is creating poems through its hand
for the lost and broken brethren
where faith in Love is the rubbery grip
so the Spirit of Flow may take control
through these words as
they become
the art of my soul

I wish that there was someone..
anyone for me to call..
on my phone of lonely hope..
so I could connect with..
relate in depth with..
another person..
because this sting..
this pain of being alone..
hurts me deep down in my soul..

Boredom always gets its way,
in my waking life, in this meeting,
with nothing important left to say,
is when convincingly, in reverie,
my insanity comes out to play,
a thought to stand up, strip down,
scream and run away

to be understood on a deep emotional level
I feel is what keeps us  going through hell
failed attempts at love with each relationship
to define the meaning of that four letter word
some of us say it with ease without knowing what we mean
others of us ***** ourselves out to appease the void
that brings us to our knees those dark and lonely moments
begging for someone to please hold onto us
gently stroke our hair to show us that they truly care
through human connection
as only this creates a way to abate that hollow pain
we cannot be sustained with material gains
or made whole by being entertained
with Hollywood fame and video games
the problem lies in the deceit of our minds
telling ourselves like we won't measure up
in other people's eyes
or we aren't good enough to cry the tears
that heal the years in front of our peers
or let them hear the thoughts of fear
that fester near our hearts
so we slowly die inside before we even get to the end
of pretending we're alive
then at the physical death part of this three dimensional life
we'll wish we left the air behind us clear of hate and selfish fear
letting all of it go
helping each other grow through our miseries
not taking ourselves so seriously
as genuine human beings who are open and honest
vulnerable and loving
out of unconditional understanding

I remember remembering this moment
a subtle knowing this occurred before
is it the events unfolding as they were?
or the memories unfurling as they are?

We are like a flower.

The seed stomped into the ground.
Our fertilizer is full of ****.
With some water to drown.
Yet we sprout, reaching for the heavens.

Then some ******* comes along with a lawnmower.