My Dreams Of A Different Mother….

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My mother is a junkie, strung out on crystal meth.

I don’t know who my father is; my mom thinks it was Seth.

My brothers, John and Jack, I am raising on my own.

I am only nine years old but I am often home alone.

What I wouldn’t give for a mother not like mine;

one that doesn’t work the streets or smells like sour wine.

I know she’s out there somewhere and not just in my dreams.

She tucks me in at night and quiets my nightmare screams.

But for me, it’s gangs and crime and poverty in the hood.

I’ll probably die a horrible death, but I would change things if I could.

I don’t make the rules of law and those that do don’t care.

They punish me for trying to live, the cops are everywhere.

When I came into this world, I was born to a junkie whore.

And those that think I’m worthless, every one of them knows the score.

I will never get to grow up or make something of myself.

My dreams of a different mother, I’ve placed high upon a shelf.

So when I am on the news for getting shot for stealing bread,

you’ll just say that I’m a thug and you’ll be glad that I am dead.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

 

 

 

 

They Are Not After Me!

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…and though I rage at the system in place,
at my own inadequacies, I don’t want to face.

When I turn away from a homeless man,
I know that I am not doing all that I can.

And how many times have I helped the victims of hate?
When have I found myself stepping up to the plate?

When I ask myself, “What about the sick and the hungry,
and what help did I offer to a strung out junkie?”

When bombs are dropped on innocent heads,
they say, “Look at all the tears she sheds!”

I stand around and cry crocodile tears,
and then I shut the door on all my fears.

I am so afraid of the horrors I see.
For if they are busy killing you, they are not after me!


Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

Keep thinking that ‘they’ll’ not be after you! ‘They’ intend on handing each of us our ass on a platter. It is just a matter of time and time is what we’re all fast running out of! Just look around you, the world is on fire from Gaza to Iraq, from Ukraine to Qatar, from Libya to Afghanistan, from Syria to Darfur, from Yemen to Somalia, from Pakistan to Venezuela, from Honduras to Guatemala, from Detroit MI to Stockton CA, from the tunnels of the homeless in Las Vegas NV to the homeless street walkers in Atlantic City NJ, from the slums of Calcutta to the sweatshops of Bangladesh and they are coming for you and for me!