That grimy young man who stands on the street
holding his old cardboard sign
it can't be that bad, he's still on his feet,
I'll betcha he could work just fine.

That worn looking woman who pushes the cart
my God, what a pity to see.
Look long enough and it might break your heart.
That could never, ever, be me.

That sad looking man who begs by the store,
he always makes me feel funny.
I'll give him a little, I refuse to give more,
I work too **** hard for my money.

That shabby young girl who waits for the bus,
not once has she had the whole fare.
She begs, and she's loud, and she makes such a fuss
that I have to pretend I'm not there.

We've all seen the woman, the man and the girl,
and we know there are so many others.
These are the people who share our same world,
these are our sisters and brothers.

Please don't look away, look straight on.
Can't we see that nothing is changing?
With each coming day, each new dawn,
let our hearts do some new rearranging.

Do one little thing, no matter how small,
it's only some time that you're taking.
But we've got to stop doing nothing at all,
there will be no change in the making.

Hiding away
a bear waiting for springtime.
A frightened songbird
not brave enough to sing the words.

Pushing it aside
a broom sweeping feelings
under a woven rug of emotion.

Crying inside,
smiling on the outside.
I fool everybody, even myself.
I'm strong as a bear,
but I'm really a frightened little songbird.
I want to sing!
Loud, sweet, and clear!
So much to say.
I've so much to say.

I'm a poet on the inside.
Everything I see makes me curious.
The look on a strangers face
makes me wonder what kind of day they're having.
Something always stirs inside me.
I feel this urgency,
this hungry need to feed
anyone willing to listen.

But I'm hiding away.
Waiting
hurting
needing
words won't come.
Then the bear in me awakens,
I have to conquer.
Spread your wings, little songbird.

Sometimes I sit and wonder
who would I want to be
if I weren't me?
Would I be that girl who always
accomplishes her goals?
Would I be that woman
who made it to the top?
But then I start to wonder,
to the top of what?

Sometimes I'll sit and daydream....
of something spectacular I want to do.
But I can never fully grasp
what that spectacular thing is.
I run from one dream to another
with no closure
and never really waking up
from the dream.

Sometimes I'll sit and think about
yesterday, or ten years ago... or twenty
and I question why I did the things I did.
Some events were easy,
some were difficult....
and I pat myself on the back
for making it
through those tough times.
Then I scold myself
for not accomplishing more
during the easy times.

But most of the time
I just worry a lot.
I worry about the future.
How will I ever afford to fully retire?
How will my children care
for an elderly mother?
How much longer will I live?

Sometimes I simply look around me
and drink in the here and now.
Sometimes I feel so full of love and joy I could burst!
So many things to be thankful for,
so many.

I know now that life goes by so quickly.
So lately when I sit and wonder about my life,
I think the best way I can spend the rest of it
is by simply thinking of others and doing for others.
Even some simple little thing
like bringing someone flowers,
or visiting someone lonely....
might just be the most important things
I can ever do with the rest of my life.

Yolinda Young was from Yonkers.
She was plagued with a huge set of honkers.
  When Yolinda was sneezing
  it wasn't to pleasing
for the noise made Yolinda ge bonkers.

Sally the skunk began thinking,
"Why am I constantly stinking?"
  She thought she was smart
  but each time she would ****
her brain was consistently shrinking.

It started out when he was four,
I bought a toy
at the dollar store.
And when I gave him
that little guitar
I never dreamed he'd go to far.

He could bring it to life
with only an ear,
the sweetest tunes,
I ever did hear.
He couldn't write music,
and he sure couldn't read it
but that little boy
sure seemed to need it.

He played for awhile,
but soon it bored him.
He forgot the guitar,
even though it adored him.
He'd begin doing one thing
and fly off to another.
He made me so tired,
just being his mother!

He still hasn't changed,
but he did surrender.
Not long ago he bought a Fender.
When he lays his fingers
upon the strings
the magic happens,
and my heart sings.
I'd stop anything
just to hear him play
his music takes my breath away.

I wish so much it could be his living,
all of that magic he could be giving!
But we must cope with life's demands.
Dreams and desires
are out of our hands.
Playing guitar will not pay the bills.
We make the most of other skills.

I'm just glad I bought that toy.
I treasure the music,
and I treasure the boy.

A baby is born with a trouble or two,
what you feel in the womb really happens to you.
But matters are worse when you finally arrive,
baby, sweet baby, how will you survive?

At least on the inside you kept yourself warm,
but now on the outside you will feel the storm.
At least on the inside the drugs kept you high,
but now on the outside you've reason to cry.

A baby is born through no fault of his own,
decisions made for him from someone full grown.
Selfish and needy she thought not of him,
he arrives with no more then to sink or to swim.

And how do you swim when you can't even walk?
How do you ask when you can't even talk?
A baby is born and he suffers each day,
just so his mother could have her own way.