walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

***** feet, happy heart,
Rolling on the grass, kissing under the stars,
Your hands on my body make me feel like this is what living is supposed to be,
I've waited all my life to be touched the way you touch me,
To be held,
To be cared for,
To be told I'm beautiful,
I've waited all my life to have someone who sees me as a person, as an individual with thoughts and knowledge rather than just a body,
I've waited all my life to be seen.

Black or white,
We are all human.
Straight or gay,
We are all human.
Tall or short,
We are all human.
Small or large,
We are all human.
Republican or Democrat,
We are all human.
Smart or average,
We are all human.
Athletic or brittle,
We are all human.
Secure or insecure,
We are all human.
Outcast or accepted,
We are all human.

Society is defined by stereotypes.
We are so quick to judge.
But it shouldn't  matter what we look like,
Or what our opinions are.
We are all apart of the same race:
The human race.
We may seem different,
But we really are very much alike.
We all have the same parts,
Just our own ways of expressing them.
We all struggle,
In one way or another.
Reach out your hand to a fellow human in need.
The pain is more bearable together.

We are individuals,
But we are one:
One race,
One species,
One community,
One population,
One identity.

*We are one.

TREES ARE GOOD


I was given away before I was born,
By day eight she was gone.
40 years is a long, long stay,
to wonder why you were a stray.
40 years to find out why,
40 years left alone to cry.
It was dark,
It was still,
I bet she wished she'd taken the pill.
A hospital for my first year,
Cos no other home did appear,
Six different foster homes was next on my list,
no wonder I spent half my life getting ******.
The classifieds is where I finally found my family,
at the tender age of three.
Adopted at seven by good kind people,
but I still don't recognise anyone.
I start to wonder if my whole life was a
******* blunder.
I learnt to survive in an interesting way,
by pushing all my emotions down deep,
it meant that I could get some sleep (it's all good).
Many years drifted by without a cry.
Many years drifted by living a lie.
Eight years ago I got a surprise
eight years ago I saw my own eyes.
Winnie came to show me that even I could have a family tree.
Three kid look at me with smiles so bright,
three kids look at me to say it's alright.
The beginning was hard but it made me strong and now I see
I'll not walk alone.
My partner is my friend.
My partner will stand with me til the end.
Blood has bound us tight.
Blood will see us right.
The one that left 40 years ago came back.
She's here full flight in my life and she even gets on with my wife.
Now the only thing I can say to thee,
is never give up on your family.

Everything is empty.

The room in my mansion of a mind where I used to keep you, and everything you were to me is empty. It's a cold dark void that echoes the memories whenever I open the door. The smell; no, stench; no, fragrance of you is burned into the floor. Maybe if I lay on my stomach and scratch at the wood I can smell it once more.



The walls are a light brown, the color of your eyes. When I open the curtains and the light shines in, the walls magically turn green, and blue, and yellow and all sorts of browns. But wait, no there is no more curtains blocking out the sun. I shouldn't think of these things. I'm conjuring up the dusty curtains that are rotting in the basement. They are replaced by the wood panels that I nailed into wall, so angery that my fist bled. Because I was not using a hammer, no you took that when you left. I had to compromise and use the hands that you held onto, oh, god no, more happy horrible memories.



I remember you were not holding onto my hands you were letting me tangle mine in yours so that i couldnt get out. All you had to do was slip your hand away to leave. But in order for you to do that, you would have to bend and break my fingers, loosening the vise they made. And thats exactly what you did that night when you were not thinking of me.



When you were thinking of her. When you were building a room in her mansion that was much brighter, bigger, and shinier than mine.  Those nights when we laid in your room, you were slowly packing your things and I didn't notice until the furniture disappeared. I begged you to stay. I begged you to not think of her the way you thought of me. You told me you never in a million years would. You told me you loved me. But you said that to her as well.    



I suppose the room is not empty at all. Physically, it shows me nothing but the remains of our relationship, cold and bordered up; gone. But the memories echo and bounce around the walls and seep from the floors.  The room is empty but the memories fill it up.