Love Yourself, No Matter What!

love3

She looked at the world through a veil of tears.
She felt she’d wasted so many years.
Her enemies hung her out to dry.
They told her, she would never fly.

With broken wings, she fell to the ground
and she never uttered a sound.
She accepted the lies they told.
She bought everything they sold.

She would stop after each false start;
afraid to follow her own heart.
She blamed the shit in her life on fate;
felt she’d waited ‘til it was too late.

Life had surely passed her by.
And she never questioned, “Why?”
But what she failed to understand
is that life can never, ever be planned.

There are pitfalls and highs and lows,
and those you think are friends are foes.
Never settle for second best.
You’ll feel cursed and you’ll feel blessed.

So love yourself, no matter what.
Hold your head up girl and strut!
Turn, “I can’t!” into “Yes, I can!”
And stop listening to the lies of man!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

 

There is so much goddamn shit going on in my life right now that I had begun to doubt myself and my strength because as much as I rail against the injustices I see perpetrated against the innocent every single day, I felt impotent. I have let myself become jaded, pessimistic and my attitude became that of a defeatist. I wondered what happened to my fire; to my spirit. Had all that makes me ,me, fled? I truly felt so! Have I recovered? No, but I am working on it! I will pick myself up, dust myself off and so long as there is breath in my body, what weapons are at my disposal, I will use them to fight back. I will not surrender to defeat! Never!

To All The Men I’ve Never Loved

tears i shed

To all the men I’ve never loved
and though most of you are dead
when I look back on my life
not much good can be said.

I see your faces in my mind
and I heave a great big sigh
as I recall those looks of love
that I let pass me by.

What of me was there to love?
I was never nice to any of you.
Love, to me was for fools
and each month, the fool was new.

Today, a song reminded me
of all that I have missed
because I was young and I was dumb
and that your love, I simply dissed.

Oh how you chased me, relentlessly
and I kept running away.
Now your bones have turned to dust
when there is much, I’d like to say.

What the young don’t understand
is what I also failed to know
And that things don’t stay the same.
What we reap, so shall we sow.

The lessons I have learned
have come too late for me.
The love I never returned
was just not meant to be.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

History Has Taught You Nothing!

history book

I refuse to shed another tear.
Not one more tear will come
though I try to feel the pain
I am completely numb.

The ties that used to bind me
are no longer strong and true.
I have cried too many times
and I am tired, I’m done, I’m through.

How many times I’ve poured my heart
into writing about our plight
while we lie down and crawl
and never put up a fight.

We are gunned down and choked to death
and we just march and sigh.
But what we fail to realize
is that they want us all to die.

You cannot grasp or understand
that your life will never matter.
And regardless of what you do
like a mirror, your dreams, they’ll shatter.

You tell yourself that if you play
by the rules of those that hate,
somehow, someway, you’ll get by
if only you’ll assimilate.

Adopt their customs, accept their god
and believe the lies they tell.
History has taught you nothing
for they have deceived you well.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

I’ll Take My Tears To Bed!

tears

I’ll take my tears to bed  

and shed them on my pillow.

The morning sun will blaze;

an orb of brilliant yellow.

 

Will its shine be bright enough

to dry my tears of pain?

Or shall I rise and weep

for the innocent that was slain?

 

No morning sun can cleanse

the muddy hearts of men

nor kill the pain of grief

brought on by an act of sin.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

 

 

 

We’re The Klan Decked Out In Blue!

hugs

Today, I gave you a hug.

You’re young, but you’re still a thug.

There’ll be another day and time,

when I’ll arrest you for a crime.

A few years down the road,

our lives just might explode.

If I see you on a bad day,

there could be hell to pay.

Don’t expect a hug from me.

I’ll use a bullet to set you free.

With tears streaming down your face.

you’ll take your rightful place,

among your brothers; dead!

Like you, their blood I shed.

You see, I’m just like Wilson,

and yes, I got a reason.

We both are two of a kind.

Our thoughts are intertwined.

We’re the Klan decked out in Blue.

And like Wilson, I’d kill you too!

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

 

 Encounter at protest leads to hug for boy, officer

An African-American boy holding a “Free Hugs” sign stood crying in front of a police barricade at a Ferguson protest rally in Portland. A white police officer motioned for him to come closer. The officer then asked the boy for a hug — and they embraced, the boy’s anguished face streaming with tears.

 12-year-old Devonte Hart and Portland Police Sgt. Bret Barnum

Earlier that week, when an officer posted on Facebook a badge of the Portland Police Bureau with an “I am Darren Wilson” banner, Barnum had “liked” the post. The officers were later ordered to remove the images and the matter is under an internal investigation.

Barnum said he “liked” the image out of solidarity for the police profession, not because he supports Wilson.

 

How touching! I just hope that in a few years, Devonte Hart’s not lying on a street in Portland with his blood seeping out of him while Sgt. Barnum who ‘liked’ “I am Darren Wilson,” is not standing over Devonte’s lifeless body saying, “I shot him out of ‘solidarity’ for the police profession’ is all!”

http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/encounter-at-protest-leads-to-hug-for-boy-officer/ar-BBg8x3H

 

 

They Are Not After Me!

Minnesota-460f_799578c

…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!

That’s Not Love!

telephone

If he calls you out of nowhere,
he’s been having an affair.

Tell him to go to hell.
Drop his lies into a well.
Love cannot wait to call
and will never make you crawl.

A man who takes forever,
in order to get together,
is not in love with you
and does not have a clue.

Love must be earned
and if it is not returned,
don’t sit around and mope,
believe, there’s always hope.

He’s stringing you along
and so you must be strong.
Don’t listen to his shit!
He expects you’ll throw a fit.

Hold your head high,
over him, do not cry.
He isn’t worth your tears.
Don’t give in to your fears.

Remember, it’s his loss.
You’re not a ball to toss.
You’re a lady with a heart,
so play it very smart.
One more page of life’s been turned,
and another lesson learned.


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

Tears Stream Down My Face

tears I cry

Tears stream down my face as I take a look around.

So many I see struggling just to stay above the ground.

A human spirit fights but the blows are just too much.

The callous and the cold; no love will ever touch.

With frightened, pleading eyes, a child looks up at me.

She is only five years old and she’s called a refugee.

Her country is at war and she does not understand,

that people kill each other just to get the upper hand.

Another child across the sea is homeless in her way.

Her mother lost her job and the rent she could not pay.

With frightened, pleading eyes, a child looks up at me.

She is only five years old and she’s called a refugee.

Yes, tears are in my eyes and I hate the world I know.

Where little children suffer and are not allowed to grow.

When the sick are left to die and the greedy have no soul.

They never see the hungry when they hold an empty bowl.

A world in pain and agony; a world in mortal sin,

and everywhere you go; there’ll be a child who’s weak and thin.

Another world there is of pomp and circumstance.

No Cinderella’s ball; it is a never ending dance.

What jewels are on display; fountains flowing with champagne.

And a child looks up at me and her eyes are full of pain.

Yes, tears are in my eyes as I see no hope at all,

and above her little head, a bomb’s about to fall.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

Throwing In The Towel

fist

I am tired and I am shattered and before in tears I drown,
I shall put away my pen, as I exit with a frown.

I wish to thank you very much for stopping by and all,
I shall not listen to the cries; nor will I heed the writer’s call.

I’ve struggled with my faith and the battle has been lost.
I’ll settle in with winter and await the first cold frost.

I am bitter and I am angry and I have such great contempt
for those who hate the ones who are homeless and unkempt.

I have tried in every way to not concede the fight,
but the price is just too high; there are none to see the light.

I’m pummeled here and pummeled there and though the cause is just,
there are way too many issues and another one bites the dust.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland
© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

Many times, those of us who care so very much for others feel as though our very spirit is being pulled from us. Even though we may be perceived as strong, we do have our weak moments. We ALL do. The point of the above poem relates to the struggle within myself. It is the struggle of those who have compassion, empathy, concern and sensitivity for the so-called underdogs of our society, those who are the left behinds, the forgotten. My struggle is so overwhelming because I walk the mean streets and I look and I listen and what I see and hear just breaks my heart! I see the ignorance. I see the cruelty. I hear the moans. I hear the pleading voices, begging for help. And I can do so little. The leaders of this country need to take a walk with me. But the question is,”Would it do any good?”

…and no, I am not conceding the fight. I am just conceding that  sometimes the force that is what makes me, me just has to push back, has to acknowledge that I am but one person and there will be times when I will falter and want to surrender, give in to hopelessness and so it helps to write about this frustration and that is where this poem came from.

After faltering, the battle for peace resumes!

If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Frederick Douglass