Stories Need To Be Told

They asked how it was
I came to express those times.
I simply lived them then
now made them into rhyme.

 

Some say they are poetic
others think them but prose.
Me? I don't know nor care
part of me I refuse to close.

 

You see, I spent too many years
living to please those who I couldn't.
Many wanted more than I could give
to others I just wouldn't.

 

I have stories needing to be told
tales which help make me who I am.
After years and years of mockery
some treat the facts like Spam.

 

From when I was first able to feel
my skin curled and itched.
Something was always amiss
emotions rose to a fever pitch.

 

I've got to tell it. It has to come out
Much of what I was taught were lies.
Facing the realities was rough
often bringing tears to my eyes.

 

I rebelled and fought back
did every positive thing I could.
Jumped through all the hoops
least the ones I thought I should.

 

My rebellion made me stronger
opened my eyes to the darkness there.
I found people to be a mixed bag
some painful others tried to be fair.

 

The stage was already set for me
I stood right in the center of it.
Voice raised and arms up high
my rebellion wouldn't quit.

 

When they clapped and clapped
I refused to leave the mark
They yelled and yelled more
till it sounded like a bark.

 

No, I would not give in
kept on with the show
Had to make sure my pain
was there for all to know.

 

Never will forget a question
it haunts me still today.
"What is it you want from us"
are the words I hear them say.

 

Like a rag doll hanging
the words wilt in my soul
Is it so hard for them to see
I don't think I'm being bold.

 

I want the same as you
no more yet, no less.
Just treat me with respect
you know equality is the best.

 

Del Cano 2007 August

Your Question

Looked with confusion on my face
your question seemed odd at the least.
Why should I accept being harassed
constantly being stopped by the police.

 

What do you mean what do I want
is it I am I so different from you?
I work by butt of to keep afloat
the same way I believe you do.

 

So why is it I keep hearing
all the crap I always hear.
My house is the same as yours
yet, your interest rate aint even near.

 

Oh, could it be I cut my grass
in a pattern unlike you do yours?
Or is it the way I work two jobs
limping home full of sores.

 

I'm at a loss why your question
remains as sadly empty as it does.
What it is I want, that over used phrase
just something which never was.

 

You wave but drop your eyes
never seeing me face to face.
Always gawking at my wife
poised, the epitome of grace.

 

I used to wonder why you
but now I don't give a care.
You and that same question
I find most anywhere.

 

I am no different from you
in my desires for life.
You so freely add more angst
help to keep up the strife.

 

Your question always seemed odd
to ask me what it is I want of you.
The answer is simple to me
treatment in the same way you do.

 

Del Cano 2007 August

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet Moments In the Blind

She burst into a lovely smile
the moment our eyes met.
Pushing carts down the aisles
trying to recall what I was to get.

She made sure she followed me
up and down every stocked space.
All the time with a pleasant grin
lighting up her entire face.

Soft comments about the stock
choices needing to be made.
Didn't leave my side even once
close by me is where she stayed.

Perhaps in her late fifties
still most pleasing to the eye.
Comfortably attractive and neat
she merited a pleasing sigh.

There was no doubt the interest
in that she easily let it be known.
My refusal to falsely lead her 
is a result of how I have grown.

After checking out I fiddled
wasting time as she loitered for me.
On the parking lot she purred a smile
as if she were begging for a spree.

I bid her a good day as I walked by
hesitating to engage her lust.
As appetizing as she might have been
I am counted on with full trust.

Noticed she slowly followed me
as I walked across the lot.
She stopped with that sunlight smile
saying, I have only a friendly plot.

I did stop and chat with her
but letting her know I was taken.
Her poise changed not one bit
though I could tell she was shaken.

Walking off bidding her a good day
I wondered if she had a note in mind.
Our sharing grocery shopping
was just sweet moments in the blind.

Del Cano 2007 August

Turn In the Crook

I can't but hang my head
they are trying to decide
if we should turn in the crook
or let him escape and hide.

They argue among themselves
cause some shared his bread.
Others listened quite intently
to every excuse he said.

My comment never changed
he remains a crook for real.
No matter what he used to do
he's a crook who robs and steals.

Don't give me that crap bout his mama
nor even his kids who are in fear
If he gave a damn about any of them
we wouldn't be talking 'bout it here.

Stop all this foolishness
a thief lives in the midst of us all.
We work our asses off to get ahead
while he's on his low life crawl.

You, complained to me 'bout your tools
and you, sir, what about that lawn mower.
Now that he's caught red handed
you want to let him walk on out the door.

Are we all crazy or have we lost our minds
this fool has been preying on us for years.
You are standing here with a remorseful look
shedding all too compassionate tears.

His mama has got nothing to do with this
and if he gave a damn he would not be here.
I give up on all this crap and will call the police
not one of you will step forward its clear.

Nothing left but to hang my head
the shame I see in your eyes.
Time to take a stand for real
yet, you all want to apologize.

Del Cano 2007 August