Proud to be an American?-By Susan Thomas

America the land of dreams...
where the streets are paved with gold.
The people chant...
We Are Number One!
When they see my silence
questions are sure to follow.
They react with horror and revulison,,,
when I say...
America isn't the best.
That this country...
brings me nothing but shame.

How can I join them?
When America's leaders rig election lines.
To make sure who serves their interests wins a seat.
I cannot cheer for a county,
that steals from the poor...
and takes their spirit
to line the pockets of the rich.
I can't be proud of a country,
that's full of fake smiles and hospitality.
While at the same time shunning immigrants
with hopes and dreams.
How disheartening it must be to learn,
that the streets are paved with broken dreams.

Someone shouts...
America is best!
And a tinge of fury burns deep.
We can't be the best.
Americans care more about beating the other side to a bloody pulp,
than calmly talking and finding the best solution.
A country that once claimed to love God.
But now uses his word as a weapon against those that are different.
A country that cares more for test scores,
than they do a child.
A country where those that need help,
are treated like trash and unworthy.
While those who see them feel dirty,
and work hard to scrub themselves clean.

Some may say America is best.
But all I see,
is a country full of hate,
full of selfishness,
a people that forgot what our fore fathers faught for.
Worst of all,
a country that sees love,
as a mere disposable trinket.
A people that cares more about appearnces and self interest.
Nothing really to brag about.

You Say You Love-By Susan Thomas

You say you love everybody,
but don't approve the behavior.
You sneer in disgust,
when a man expresses his love...
for another man
or a woman shares a pasionate kiss
with a another woman.

You claim to love those like them.
Just not that part of them.
I have trouble comprehending...
your idea of love.
That love is somehow conditional.
That if someone believes or feels
in a manner you don't like...
your somehow allowed to hate...
just that one part.

How is that love?
Isn't love UNCONDITIONAL?
Accepting AND embracing...
the WHOLE person.

You try to use the bible.
My lord and savior,
as your excuse for hate.
But the Jesus I know...
LOVED the PROSTITUTE,
the DESTITUTE and SINNERS.
Aren't you just a pharasee?
Caught up in RULES and REGULATIONS,
and FORGETTING the meaning of love.

Invisible Beast-by Susan Thomas

There was a day,
that I was free to dream,
free to dance,
free to be.
I was a joyful,
young spirit.
Naive.
Then one day,
my freedom came to an end.
The monster
I could not see,
or touch,
had me in it's grasp.
I tried to run,
but it was faster.
I tried to ignore it,
but it's grasp just grew tighter.
I tried so hard to get away,
to find my freedom,
but it had me runnin' in place.
It stole my eyes
so I couldn't see.
Everytime I thought I finally beat it,
it would pounce
and pin me harder than before.
The cage it built
was strong
and seemed unbeatable.
Things seemed hopeless.
Then one day
I was whisked away
to a place.
They made promises.
I thought their words were hollow.
This was my doom.
My fate.
To my astonishment,
in a few short days,
I was free.
I was no longer in a cage.
No longer bound
or held down
by the invisible beast.
Instead they took the beast
and locked him way.
Now our rolls are reversed.
I have the power
and that thing will never taste freedom.
It waits for me to be sloppy
to mess up.
A moment of weakness,
but that will never happen.
I enjoy my freedom
and intend to keep it.

Tree Proud and True-By Susan Thomas

Tall tree, proud and true
you hold your majestic branches,
out with pride.
Once you were the home,
for many.

You were so tall
beautiful
and aged.
That young animals
looked to you for your shelter.

Children danced at your feet
Amazed at the way
your wonderful branches
could easily be called home.

Reaching far to shelter
those below.
Your sticky sap
there to feed so many.
The prickly needles you shed
although unpleasant to bare feet
give a wondrous scent.

Now your pride has been taken.
Many of your majestic branches
stolen
because one did not appreciate your beauty.

The glorious owl
who had called your branches home
for so many years
now finds himself with no home
because your branches were so
cruelly taken.

They took your pride
your glory,
but you still stand
tall and true.
Defying their hate
fighting for your life.
Daring them
and taunting them
with your victory.