In the spirit of the natural.

Wild devil locks,

Growing promiscuously Savage,

Transfigure my eyes somehow; look more terrible - holy

Like a madman, arrogant and

Visually aggressive;

Bold & intimidating.

Animals are uneasy but my Samsonites muse at my

Uncombed masculinity…

But my naturale becomes my pride, and that

To excess,

And a rebel is born to defy the self-imagined tyranny of

Those who

Sport a more conservative style.

And I confuse the forest with the trees -

Too hardheaded to realize the real me;

Too busy being angry with an ideology;

And when I lay me down to sleep:

Headaches sore my tender head

Pulling cruelly through my wicked briar,

Raking with steel combs,

Lining my scalp with red screams, tearing violently

Uprooting my whatonceuponatimeusedtobe

Pleasantness;

And my head bows under the weight of weeds too fine to lock

So there are

Black locks on the bathroom floor -

Silken curls of mystic power

Unlocked and losing their luster.

And though my woman is taken aback by the image of this

Seemingly emasculated creature,

I am freed of the suckers rooted in my head,

Crowding my thoughts with in grown forests…

I am transformed,

And the mirror betrays my humility.