The tangled weeds in a tangled mind

I can’t find the scissors

to cut the prudery

My garden is full of thistles that sting and burn

a naked fool

Burn the field and rid the place of weeds

Their seeds have flown to yet another naked soul

I like the weeds they mask the ignoble bruises

of bluenose snobbery

I am shameless in my virtue and my pride

There will always be weeds and those who

only expect flowers and perfectly cut lawns

have fooled them self into uncompromising ideals

The world will show that to be true

If not crushed by life the weeds will not wilt

They are there for a reason

No man has the right to cause shame

When the victim is innocent except for weeds

The weeds we all grow hidden