What a Shame
It is a shame
that you cannot accept me.
It is a shame
that you cannot understand me.
It is a shame
that you cannot appreciate me.
A shame that has no name.
It is a shame
that you cannot see me.
It is a shame
that you cannot hear me.
It is a shame
that you cannot touch me.
A shame that has no name.
It is a shame
that you cannot phone me.
It is a shame
that you cannot write me.
It is a shame
that you cannot talk with me.
A shame that has on name.
No love, no caring, no warmth, no pride.
No emotions released; you all choose to hide
beneath the covers and sheets of denial
to carry through your lives until you are senile.
Our genes are the same; our looks can compare,
yet no similarities in spirit are there.
Differences collide; harsh words are spoken.
I've seen many things and have now awoken.
A lone soul arises out of the dirt.
After all these years; after all the hurt.
Blooming, growing, learning, and feeling
what it is like to be a live being.
Nothing sacrificed; nothing compromised.
A yearning for truth that is now realized.
It is not a shame
that things cannot be the same.
It is not a shame
that the name has changed.
It is not a shame
that I have grown.
What is a shame
is that shame now has your name.
Life As It Is
What is the world coming to
when I can't be me and you can't be you?
With so much uncertainty and so much fright,
that we often live life without hearing or sight.
Why must it be that we give up trying
rather than living and being and always flying?
So many questions and not enough answers.
People killing animals just for their furs.
Why so much hurt and why so much pain?
To wash it all away I wish it would rain.
With the grasses so green and the skies so blue,
why can no one see it; not even me or you?
Why can't we be what we want to be?
Why can't we be free to see what to be?
I don't know and it's hard not to give up.
So often my life feels like a fragile cup.
Who can tell me what's in it for me?
What my purpose in life is and what I'm to be?
I'm still a young woman with so much to learn.
I wait for the time when my life takes a turn.
I'm growing each day adn maturing so much;
unlike the others I don't want to love touch.
My past has made me, but cannot break me.
My soul is too great for any small fee.
The woman that bore me I will take no more scorn;
I won't solve all her problems in the past I have
worn.
The pain and the agony that I have and must still
face;
I will rise above and never lose face.
I will cry, scream, and smile for my feelings aren't
wrong.
They're the reasons I'm human and they act as my song.
To hold the child I vow I'll take care of.
To make up for the past when she never got love.
I will look for the light,
Never give up the fight,
For I know what is right.
I won't lose my sight.
It's true that the end is near.
The end of the past and the end of my fear.
Somewhere in the world a child is born.
Complete, whole, and alive; no longer torn.
So where do I begin? Lies the answer above?
No.
The answer is in unconditional self-love.
To Be Different
Why is difference such a terrible thing?
To decide to talk instead of to sing.
No one cares about the color of hair,
but an issue arises out of skin dark or fair.
An irony exists when we love everyday,
but no love can exist between two who are gay.
Two people perform the exact same job,
so why does Mary get paid far less than Rob?
Countries collide in battles and war.
The word of peace is practiced no more.
Female breasts displayed daily on TV
Yet never a glimpse of little pee wee.
Why is it to be small is to be less than?
That the only one worthy is a tall woman or man.
Fat people are regarded with utter hatred and scorn.
No mention is paid to their set point of which they
were born.
Why do we claim to love Mother Earth
when we've continued to destroy her body since birth?
Animals we torture or throw them away.
If kind, we'd not need an S.P.C.A.
Why is it our purpose changes with age?
Why, when old, we are placed in societies cage?
Each generation thinks it's better than the next;
thinks its suffered the most; the biggest hex.
Good ol' days bad new days always the same.
Past better future better; such a petty game.
Why does a rich person's being cost more
when little difference exists between each person's
core?
This way or that way what does it matter?
All the screaming and arguing amidst all the clatter.
Problems too complex for a simple solution.
All of us stuck in our inner pollution.
Difference and change are seen as sins.
Why can't we accept them so each of us wins?