a beautiful life.

At the end of this life

if you can say

I did some things

I really, really enjoyed

and helped some people

along the way

all the while

laboring loves labyrinth

then that

I’d say

is a beautiful life.

a little jig with the birds

I took all my why’s and what for’s one day

and threw em like confetti out the window

fluttering and cutting through the air

they just fell to the ground as the wind

picked up and the cars and people

mulled through the day dragging with them

my black confetti underfoot and tire

picking at em like stuck gum

confused in chaos

I watched just for a little as they disappeared

and the crowds dispersed with the morning

afternoon and night till all was quiet again

all but me shaking my unchained head

and doing a little jig with the birds.

Vital Weeds.

When you start to look

into other people’s lives

you start to see

whose lives are worth

looking into, and sort of

weed out those

you dabbled in, that turned out

to be nothing more

than forgettable,

nothing more than

vital weeds.

Peer Pressure is an Infinite Thing.

Lots of makeup.
Lots and lots of makeup.
To invent the perfect you.

That stuff clogs your pores you know.
Believe it or not.
I wore makeup too.

But nobody told me
it didn’t match my skin tone.
Nobody but a few.

You can’t break a kid’s spirit like that.
It’s unnatural.
But that’s what we do.

That’s what’s beautiful?
I beg to differ.
That’s not the perfect you.

But it’s under there.
Somewhere.
Working harder every day.