Six babies born
Six babies nurse
Six babies loved

Six children play
Six children sing
Six children loved

Six teenagers driving
Six teenagers dating
Six teenagers loved

Six young adults kissing
Six young adults making love
Six young adults loved

Six adults married
Six adults loving their families
Six adults loved

One is Muslim, one is Jewish, one is Atheist, one is Hindu, one is Christian, one is Buddhist, all are loved

There are those with strongly held views
Who can be extremely forthright
When it comes to certain issues,
Believing they alone are right.
To shout and roar is not my style
Though that may come across as meek,
My quiet nature does beguile
For the last thing I am is weak.

Rather than force my opinion
Which alas many seem to do
I prefer at first to listen
To other peoples points of view.
By doing so I learn the facts
While showing others some respect.
Then can respond and not react;
Have a more positive effect.

It shows great insecurity
Or a lack of self confidence,
This seeming inability
To deal with valid arguments.
It is totally arrogant,
Makes absolutely no sense.
It is completely ignorant;
The height of low intelligence.

Be sorry not for being yourself;
Be sorry for not being yourself

"Foreigner in my own land"
Words that I will forever have in my skin.
This tattoo, means
An ancestral burden that I did not choose.
Quoted directly,
From a man... Who faught
Side by side with heroes in order to gain a taste of freedom.
An ideal he believed essential.
But....
The tint of his skin, and his mother tongue,
determined his fate...
He was forever exiled from the country he fought for and held on so dear.
"Foreigner in my own land."
Generations passed,
And we still hold this burden.
My roots... Determined something.
An idea that I am less according to some.
My people are fighting a fight,
That shouldnt even exist.
And I am proud to say...
I am a foreigner in my own land.
Because no matter where I go...
I am a stranger.
Regardless of race and color.
We will always be foreigners to others. Yet,
I am a stranger that will hold a smile,
And welcome the bigotry.
I know what I am.
And I am proud.
Instead of infecting others with hate....
Let us celebrate our differences and appreciate each other.
Because we are all Foreigners.

Back in the days I saw the kids
Playing outside
Enjoying their every moment
underneath the sun

We used to play in the dirt
No one cared how we looked
We ripped our jeans
No boundaries between us

We did not know the definition
Of colour, religion, race
We did not care
We were innocent

How I wish those times were back
The childish ignorance
No hate, judgement, discrimination
Some of us should take that as an example

How hard can be a way
Of peace and tolerance
How come I see every day
People, who take every chance
To find a reason to discriminate
Colour, religion or gender
Why does it have to be so much hate
Why can't we treat each other tender
People so narrow-minded
Continuing to stir up trouble
Throughout their hatred they've been blinded
Here we stand in front of rubble
Let's pick up the pieces and built up a society based on equality

Each one of us is different,
Every one of us unique,
Not one of us should pass judgment,
Ill of our fellow man should speak.
For each one of us has value
that not one of us should begrudge;
To judge others says more of you
than any of those you might judge.
None of us are superior
To think so is pure arrogance,
Thinking others inferior
Highlights only your ignorance.

THE WAY

The way through the wilderness is clear,
Impossible dreams come true, my dears,
Tolerance to be taught to the human race,
We're all sparked with mankind's grace,
There is a way through the wilderness,
Impossible dreams can be achieved, no less.
All children do play together,
Until dissuaded by adult's blether,
The way through the wilderness is clear,
Impossible dreams come true, my dears,
Kindness taught to the human race,
Universal smiles free on everyone's face,
The way through the wilderness is clear,
Impossible dreams to achieve, my dears.

A tired old man groans
As he hand you some
Asian culture cuisine.

Riddled with spices
It tickles the little thing in the back of your throat
As you swallow the substance.

Face now flushed
Like a cluster of fire ants crawling on the hill
Calling it their home.

Home?
Where was it?
Your memory slips.

Glee storms the man’s face
As he studies your expression.

“Seems like you can’t handle such a simple thing."

Clouding your judgement, you bite your tongue
In desperate attempt to knock back the sense
That gone up and left.

However
It fails.

Numb as the lightbulbs turn into bottle-cap suns
Concealing sight
With the light that it shares.

Count as your heart stops
With eyes bloodshot
His crafted words echo
In your failing ears.