There’s something cynical in your smile
as if I rubbed off some and forgot to say,
that I’m not that kind of cynic.
And I feel no joy from any of this.
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There’s something cynical in your smile
as if I rubbed off some and forgot to say,
that I’m not that kind of cynic.
And I feel no joy from any of this.
It takes many self destructions
for a man to realize
there is nothing so meaningless
as to destroy what he has yet to understand.
If what you see in the mirror is ugly, then consider this: chances are you’re comparing your own unique beauty to what, for your entire life, you’ve been programmed to believe is beautiful.
And what is beauty anyways?
Margaret Wolfe Hungerford said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
And isn’t that true? Yes or no, in more instances than not beauty is subjective. In fact, I’d go even further to say that beauty manifests itself in infinite ways other than what the eye can see.
As a photographer with a fond admiration for women and men alike I can honestly say that I have taken countless photographs and manipulated them to appeal to the mass collective of what is to be considered quote on quote “beautiful.”
Hypocrite. No, I think not. I never claimed they were beautiful but simply did my job in a way that my superior agreed was aesthetically pleasing.
A wrinkle here, a crows foot there, deleted.
Nobody has ever died from a portrayal of beauty, right?
Wrong. Though I’m not an extremist so there are many factors to consider, all of which yes, I agree, may seem like a bit of a cop out or excuse not to hold oneself accountable for taking what is and transforming it into something less natural.
But this isn’t about my career choice or eye in which I behold.
This is about you and that “ugly” reflection in the mirror.
You are not ugly, you simply aren’t. You are you, and you are beautiful.
Those who claim to seek perfection, well, they’re only trying to fill a void. And it’s a bottomless pit because like beauty, perfection is ultimately subjective.
While I sit here and delve deeper into thought, I watch a mother and daughter walk by my window. The mother is flapping her arms as graceful as she can. The child looks to her mother and understands she is trying her best.
In the end all that we can do is try our best to love ourselves enough to fully accept the unique beauty of another.
Any other judgement is of which we have been programmed to believe.
It’s taken a very long while to believe in myself and I willingly admit that each day is a slow progression to further acceptance of my own unique beauty.
If someone tells you you’re not beautiful, that’s their loss.
And I hope the next mirror that you face looks back in your direction as the child looks with grace and marvels at the perfection of her mother’s love.
I think I’d rather not
I mean ok
Let me walk a block
Get my thoughts straight
Try and help out
Make you feel great
If this was high school
Basket case.
I think I’d like that
I mean no don’t
If you bite back
I could go home
Take my shoes off
Draw a warm bath
Some use a toaster
Here I’ll right back.
Got a new job
Got a new face
Got some new friends
To help replace
No that ain’t right
I mean ok
It’s a bad trip
Depends what you take.
Is that a sick joke
Or the new wave
Is that a cut throat
Or a switchblade
Is this real life
Or a showcase
No one can hurt you
Just be brave.
Had a dog once
His name was courage
He could sense pain
Like a surgeon
One day I woke up
He had broken
His chain and ran off
But that’s the breaks kid.
See the sunshine
And the bus stop
See the shadows
And the rooftops
Even your grumpy
Great grandpa
Smiles sometimes
Don’t last long.
So if you feel bad
Just know I like you
If you feel sad
I’ll feel sad too
We’ll sing a singalong
In a sad room
Kid it’s ok
To feel blue too.
Tears of sorrow.
Tears of joy?
I don’t
differentiate
anymore…
blue jay’s back, cloaked in sun
hopping from grass to concrete
his colors I lack, flutter from wings
they drift-float-and-pass all around me
as I turn my back, cloaked in shade
I can’t tell if he’s mocking or loves me