A Declaration

 

Introduction



As obvious as this statement appears, YOU’VE BEEN BORN.
And that in itself gives you the same worth as anyone else.
No one having been born gold plated, nor with a plummy accent.
Thus your worth is not decided by either you or others, but is automatic.
And should anyone say otherwise, they would immediately give others the opportunity to decide their worth, for richer or poorer, for better or worse.
Our worth is not only automatic, but until ashes to ashes, given that one’s worth mustn’t be confused with one’s behaviour, just like the worth of a hammer isn’t gauged by the builder who’s using it.
A human is a human, and thus gender and colour making no difference either.
And the size of one’s brain having more to do with the size of one’s heart.
So, when it comes to your worth, and because you’re also a marvel the way that you’ve been put together, don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

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Additional Content





3.  Your Choice To Sink Or Swim


You may have been hurt, may have been treated badly, may have suffered misery,
But don’t waste your life dwelling on such, dragging it up from the deep constantly.
’Cause all you will do is add to it all via going on about her or him,
Or to put it another way, say: Welcome to life! Your choice to sink or swim.

Now don’t get me wrong, friend, because I’m full of sympathy, even empathy,
Have suffered too — yes, been there, done that, wallowed in it all, yet so pointlessly.
So don’t blame your parents, this person, that person, what they did or didn’t do,
Or else you’ll still be thinking about them when you should be thinking about you.

We can’t change the past, but we can chart our future, grab that rudder, set those sails,
Leaving behind depressing post-mortems, further emotional storms and gales.
I haven’t said that it’s easy, but a must do, ’cause there’s no other way through,
It folly to let such spoil the rest of those years that life’s allotted to you.

By Lance Landall





4.  Don't Doubt Your Worth

Sometimes we can feel like a nobody, lost within the great sea of humanity,
A grain of sand pushed and pulled by life’s tides, or shoved by waves of insensitivity.
Or perhaps a leaf, one that’s detached and floating aimlessly, adrift on a cool breeze,
One caught in some melancholy Autumn, concerned that fate’s careless rake might cruelly seize.

Yes, sometimes life can leave us feeling left out, that we don’t fit in, and we feel alone,
Lost in caverns of introspection, where we wrestle fretfully, and inwardly groan.
Or we struggle to find our way through the maze of past mistakes, regret nipping our heels,
And we wonder — yes, we oft wonder — is there anyone else who the same as us feels?

A nobody, a grain of sand, a leaf, an after thought possibly, or last resort,
Someone who hardly figures in the mind of others, a vessel that’s without a port.
Yes, somebody just like us, aching inside, wanting to be noticed, or even heard,
Who’s seemingly destined to go it alone, others nodding but not saying a word.

And yet, our value is just as great, and our place on this earth just as necessary,
Thus, regardless of how we may feel, we have an important place in humanity,
For every beach relies on every grain of sand, and each leaf has its place on each tree,
Thus, should our time on earth expire, so much the worse for our absence this world would be.

By Lance Landall





5.  Don't Doubt Your Place


Don’t be fazed by film stars, pop stars, presidents, kings, queens or popes, nor consider yourself any less,
For they’re just as human as you are, and no greater, despite their position, power or success.
Yes, they too, have to attend that little room where one is humbled, and they too, become elderly,
For they’re just as mortal as you, simply have a different function, are known far more publicly.

And hence why I’d never pay homage to one who’s as earthly as me, though I’d still act politely,
Aware that some have a certain role to play, a certain authority, responsibility.
But though such be so, I also knowing that they don't have a different body or brain to me,
And hence are thus my equal, and there to serve too, not to lord it over me, or humanity.

History’s littered with ambitious, deluded fools, propelled by delusions of grandeur (their own),
They wanting to make their mark, and boy, they sure do, terribly so, dictating from their self made throne.
Others strut like egotistic peacocks, lapping up the attention, basking in their own glory,
Only to suffer the same fate as anyone else — lost looks, old age, a plot in a cemetery.

Meantime, amidst their power play, or love affair with the limelight, they act as if they’re more worthy,
When in fact they’re often less so, given that their acts or behaviour work more injuriously.
And those who could be deemed as worthy, and even greater, are humbly lost within society,
Where they quietly leave behind a better legacy — selflessly, and even unconsciously.

By Lance Landall





:-)



6.  Detective In Search Of


Name’s Jack Smith, I’ve been investigating a case of mistaken identity.
An amazing creation that someone associated with a monkey,
But that wasn’t the case, not at all, because it was clearly a human, you know,
No furriness, no tail, just a bit of aping ’round, a chump, not a chimp, so,

I reported back, the others on the case not surprised, ’cause what do you know,
Yes, they were humans as well, each one having a little pinkie and big toe.
No banana peels lying around, no under arm scratching, nothing at all,
Much like that creature I checked out, who, not surprisingly, thought I had a gall.

“What! Me a monkey?” he cried, and I had to admit he didn’t look like one,
And nothing in a state of metamorphose either, and I thought, “Job well done.”
It just someone’s mind working overtime, as if they’d come up with a theory,
But that human was too clever for words, and seemingly getting less hairy.

He rubbed his balding head and said to go. “The very thought!” he shouted at me,
And I kind of blushed, ’cause he certainly hadn’t been swinging from tree to tree.
“Not even related!” he cried, so Charles had obviously got things wrong, and
“Not surprisingly,” I thought, given his missing links, that human far too grand.

Yes, if looks could kill, he no gorilla though, so I coolly made my way out,
The odd check over my shoulder verifying things midst another loud shout.
But I let it go, because it wasn’t an evolving case, more a dead end,
There nothing to go on, and going by the files, it naught but a foolish trend.

Yes, it’s the same old story, case after case of mistaken identity,
I only finding beings uniquely special, and far from a monkey.
It all wasting my time, I not having millions of years, and there’s no cold case,
It open and shut, there nothing out there like us, not a dickybird, not a trace.

And I not interested in ape-like fossils, have come across such before,
Tampering with the evidence a crime, you know, plain monkey business, what’s more.
And too many making something out of nothing, just baboons of themselves, and
This detective left shaking his head, ’cause like said, humans are far too grand.

By Lance Landall


Person's name fictitious.





7.  No Less Precious


My dear friend, those latter years of yours do not make you any less precious, oh no,
Your body simply saying and showing that you’re nearer to the time when you’ll go.
And a sad day that will be, but meantime, you still worthy of time, effort and love,
And even more so given those scars from earthly battles that you’ve risen above.

Oh, the enemy age is, robbing of youth and health, but you still the same within,
Just that outer shell disguising things, which, at the end of the day, is only skin.
Your heart just the same, and your mind no different either, though a lot more mature,
And lamenting those growing inabilities, like those legs that aren't quite so sure.

But experience you’ve had, and invaluable it is, adding to your value,
Not simply that uniqueness that hollers that there will never be another you.
Missing teeth, receding hair and worldly-wise wrinkles not changing a thing, oh no,
Though perhaps fooling that brief glance from someone who last saw you quite some time ago.

Thus come your departure, we’ll all be the less for it, each plot a sad waste of life,
One less familiar face, and their loved ones no doubt feeling it as if a knife,
And because treasured we should be, every one of us a marvel, young or old,
A creation of substantial significance, and too oft a story untold.

But nevertheless, another important cog and link within humanity,
Part and parcel of that necessary, individual, creativity.
We all bound to each other via origin and lineage, and why I want to shout,
“That it’s not your age and not your body, but your heart and mind that it’s all about!”

By Lance Landall





8.  Born To Be Heard And Seen


Deep within each of us there’s a light that is waiting to be shone,
A longing voice that’s wanting to be heard before we’re dead and gone.
A certain something that doesn’t want us forgotten, not noticed,
And that despite how much we may hold it back is sure to persist.

Thus we’re not born to quickly pass like those hillside shadows one sees,
But to shine like the sun and stir the air around us like a breeze.
And why there’s that something within that mourns when it’s not heard or seen,
And why as much as our arrival we want folk to know we’ve been.

Yes,

Deep within that soul that is us there shouldn’t be chains that bind,
Our precious hearts and minds being the centrality of humankind.
And thus each of us individual expressions heard and seen,
This desire and creativeness hardwired and linking every gene.

So may it never be that anyone is hampered or ignored,
But seated at the same piano where their notes add to some chord.
One within a symphony that’s richer for every expression,
And played by an all embracing orchestra always in session.

By Lance Landall





9.  Be Who You Are


Don’t be afraid of being different to the rest, and nor of being thought of as eccentric, odd or strange,
But just be yourself, because that’s who you are, rather than the outcome of what other people might wish to change.
Yes, far too many bend to suit the selfish whims of others, or due to certain pressures that are brought to bear,
Which stifles their individuality, their uniqueness, their specialness, that no one’s meant to steal or steer.

And hence why many people don’t make some stand that they would have, too concerned over what other people might think,
Or too concerned over how other people might react, which soon sees them from a certain path or action shrink.
A path or action that they’ve a right to take, or even should take, but due to other people, choose not to,
And as a consequence, allow wrong to have its way — or something that could prove beneficial, they don’t pursue.

Nothing makes life more interesting than our differences — that is, all those unique or odd ways of others,
Which some unfair, forced and unnecessary conformity, or someone’s interference, just spoils and smothers,
If one lets such spoil and smother, or bows to the wrongful pressures of others, who’re often the majority,
’Cause this world appears to be full of sheep, those who’re seemingly quite prepared to forgo their own identity.

And that identity is found in being just who we are, not in what others want, unless we’ve some bad traits,
Which, if we’re sensible and receptive like we should be, we’ll do something about, ’cause doing so liberates.
But what’s uniquely us, be it seemingly eccentric, odd or strange, we shouldn’t try to change, but just accept,
’Cause such is what makes us the unique and special individual that we are, and therefore, is better kept.

By Lance Landall


This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





10.  No One Else But You


Don’t worry about what others think — no, just be yourself, no one else but you,
Though always seeking improvement and a wholesome and holistic point of view,
'Cause while its always best that we be ourselves, we can hardly claim perfection,
And hence why we should be open to criticism, someone’s fair inspection.

At the end of the day, others will think what they will, and often err, sadly,
But such is life, and why we should simply be ourselves, accept reality,
And where criticism’s warranted-cum-where the cap fits, take it on the chin,
Ego and pride having been put in their place by the honest and genuine.

And where criticism’s not warranted-cum-not fair or true (too oft the case),
Just brush it off your shoulders and keep your head up, knowing nothing’s there to face.
In other words, just be yourself, no one else but you, and as was meant to be,
'Cause no one need change unless there’s a jolly good reason that’s quite plain to see.

By Lance Landall





11.  Regarding "Odd"


Have you ever come across someone who’s said to you that they haven’t come across someone like you before,
Or quite like you; or even a case like yours — perhaps a doctor or counsellor — which leaves you feeling sore?
That is, feeling like you’re an oddity, someone who’s rather odd, and of which they may well let others know,
Regardless of whether it’s true or not — in other words, it simply their opinion, an unfair blow.

Yes, it’s possible you are different, unique, but odd’s another thing, and oft said disparagingly,
And as far as oddness goes, such is in the eyes of the beholder, and often far from reality.
And the reason why usually has something to do with someone not knowing the other person well,
Alias ignorance, a limited encounter, or perhaps bad timing, and hence why some things don’t gel.

And remember this too, that what they may see in you that they feel is odd, is more than likely found elsewhere,
And they, simply not having encountered such before, and hence why that word “odd” you probably shouldn’t hear.
Yes, such is too often used to explain away what some simply don’t understand, nor have even tried too,
Thereby leaving others feeling bad about themselves, and hence why I wouldn’t own such, lest it not fit you.

But having said that, oddness shouldn’t disqualify someone from the same thought, love and care that all should get,
And is often quite an okay thing, even a good thing in the scheme of things, and thus not some cause to fret.
And you know, some who’re not considered odd, aren’t all that nice, and some who are considered odd, oft very nice,
And so, before someone calls anyone odd, they should take a closer look at themselves, and wisely think twice.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





12.  Difference Is No Reason Or Excuse


I don’t have a problem with someone’s colour, nor right to their faith, but just any off-putting traits,
And as far as their culture-cum-ways go — well, that’s just personal taste, which attracts or irritates.
Thus it just a people thing, ’cause colour, faith and culture aside, we all have our good and bad points,
And thus it all coming down to whether someone’s behaviour, attitude or way pleases or disappoints.

We may not agree with someone's beliefs, nor care for their cultural ways, and fair enough too
But we should never treat people badly; such being the sort of thing that only a fool would do,
’Cause difference is no reason or excuse for such, hasn’t been and never will be, ’cause wrong is wrong,
And not only folly, but the behaviour and attitude of someone who’s weak rather than strong.

At the end of the day, it’s easy for us to act badly, but harder for us to act rightly,
’Cause the latter takes an inner strength, unlike that lack of control that’s displayed by any bully.
And in a sense, we’re just acting like bullies too when we treat others badly-cum-thoughtlessly so,
But dare it be ’cause of their colour or faith — such prejudice and bigotry — and better we know.

Yes, we don’t have to like someone’s ways, cultural or other, nor their beliefs or negative traits,
But treating them badly is quite another thing, which unkindness and even cruelty radiates.
Hence how we give ourselves away, that true state of our heart and mind, be it in some small or big way;
But just as much as this, there’s one more thing that we all need to realise: Such behaviour doesn’t pay.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 29 January 2020.





13.  Take Charge


Don’t let anyone kill your spirit, steal your soul, play with your mind, trample all over your hopes and dreams,
’Cause your life’s your life, not theirs, and hence why you shouldn’t give up, give in, no matter how tough it all seems.
And nor should you let anyone weigh you down, pull you by the nose, treat you like a puppet or a pawn,
’Cause you’re your own person, a free agent — a right you automatically received when you were born.

And hey, don’t shoot yourself in the foot by doing your head in via drugs or booze, nor harm your body too
(Be it via this or that), ’cause you’ve a whole life to live, and there’re many possibilities to pursue.
All why you should learn what you can, seek to achieve, strive to be better, give, share, help, support and forgive,
’Cause the wiser, kinder, healthier and more positive that you are, the longer that you will live.

The truth is, your value as a person is inestimable, your potential considerable,
You a power plant of rhythmic, dynamic, creative energy, a living breathing miracle,
You a world of your own, full of emotions and feelings, a scientific and medical marvel,
A being who has the power to choose, and in order for things to work in your favour, must choose well.

You’re no one's property, your heart, mind and body your own, and your conscience only as good as you choose,
All why you should only seek the best of things in life, and anything that’s injurious refuse.
’Cause at the end of the day, our choices largely determine the outcome of our lives, for good or bad,
And whether we’ll look back with much regret and sorrow, or over such, and our decisions, be very glad.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





14.  Happy Just Being Me


You may not be someone famous, applauded by adoring fans, sought by the paparazzi,
Nor a prince, pop star, actress, best selling author, Olympic champion-cum-celebrity.
But nonetheless just as marvellous, precious, no less worthy, so rejoice in your being,
’Cause you’re an amazing creation, an engineering marvel, even if some aren’t seeing.

Yes, look at you, you’re a walking, talking miracle too, no less than they, and no more than they,
’Cause everyone of us is equally human, composed of water, flesh, blood, bones and clay.
And each of us only spending a limited time here, a time too short to waste on fretting,
’Cause some things we’ll never be, never do, and why time wasted fretting we’ll soon be regretting.

And besides, fame oft ruining character and lives, and many fritting their millions away,
Such having got lost in their own self-importance, and this why so many of them soon dismay.
’Cause their lives aren’t really the norm, but more a fantasy world, one not all that desirable,
And why for so many of them, despite that glossy outward appearance, all isn’t that well.

And so, it’s just being who we are that makes us unique and special, not the stage or limelight,
’Cause such so often just subtracts from people — and the real them, inevitably overwrite.
And is it any wonder, they moulded by an industry that’s simply driven by money,
One that effectively just uses and abuses, has its favourites in society.

So don’t lose heart should you be among the rest and most of us, our lives the norm, reality,
We ourselves, not some generated-cum-same as others who’ve gone before creation — clone, maybe.
Yes, we uniquely who we are, no catalogue look, no borrowed image, and no pampered star,
But quite happy to be the one and only us, that very different person that we are.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





15.  Whatever The Case May Be


Any child who asks his parents, “Was I wanted?” hopes to hear, “Of course you were!” and understandably,
Because such is only natural; that desire to be wanted deep within everybody.
Perhaps unconsciously for some, and possibly awakened by circumstances, but nevertheless,
It lying just under the surface, perhaps buried and hidden, which some are reluctant to confess.

But here, we’re really talking ’bout that child and parent thing, that searching “Do you truly love me?” question,
Which in all fairness (it can be argued), regardless of the answer, requires an honest admission.
And that answer could be, “Not initially,” or, “You weren’t planned — but still wanted and loved? Most certainly!”
Because children can oft just happen, sort of thing, be had for the wrong reasons, or plain unthinkingly.

Many give little thought to the consequences of having children, thus acting irresponsibly,
All why many are the product of one night stands, or as good as, and thus not received with joy, sadly.
And why some don’t know who their dad is, they not just unloved, but abandoned, and hence why I must convey
That if you have parents who love and care for you, don’t fret if “Not initially” or “Unplanned” they say.

It’s better to dwell on blessings, face reality, and move on, not adding insult to injury,
Bearing in mind that our birth’s a miracle, that some things are best left dead and buried in history.
Our life but a fleeting thing, and acceptance and contentment oft more important than answers, ’cause we
Though being an accident, mistake, or poor decision, have been gifted life, a privileged entry.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





16.  The Human Touch


This world’s so deficient when it comes to the human touch, that tender touch that shows that we care,
Be it via a gentle clasp, stroke, rub, pat or hug that conveys support and thought, allays some fear.
Yes, there’s nothing like the human touch, for via such, much is conveyed, and oft more than words we share,
Which, though needed and treasured, never quite as eloquently display that we’re concerned and near.

And something ’bout the human touch is healing, ’cause it can soothe and calm, whisper intimately,
Drawing one into another’s caring thoughts and feelings, and thereby, it revealing empathy.
Oh yes, a moment that’s telling, a moment of closeness, and even of solidarity,
That presence warming and reassuring, and conveying the very best of humanity.

Though words are no less worthy than touches, they’re not a touch, a touch being a world of its own,
Something both felt and understood, love’s special form of expression, silent, caring, wordless zone.
However, both touches and fitting words are oft found together, adding weight to their mission,
And aren’t in need of prompting, ’cause those who display the human touch, are blessed with intuition.

So many are in need of the human touch, that gentle clasp, stroke or pat that can soothe or calm,
That caring that reaches out wherever there’s anxiety, hurt, or some element of harm.
But even where there is none of these, that touch still means so much, blessing giver and receiver,
And why when it comes to love’s special form of expression, the human touch, I’m a believer.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.





17.  It's Time To Refocus


With the day being a lovely summer’s day, I strolled into town, but was terribly saddened to see
Someone's friendly but neglected cat lazing in the gutter near shops and traffic so perilously.
I stopped to stroke its wee head with my fingers, not wanting to run my hand over its mangy body,
And feeling disturbed by its plight, mindful of those cats at home treated very differently.

As I continued further on, I saw a woman with only one eye, a young girl in a wheelchair,
Some young mentally handicapped men in a van, and there were others I saw, each with burdens to bear.
And I thought of how sad it was, and is, given the current fixation with the body beautiful,
Which has little to do with the person, ’cause our body is just a shell, and age inevitable.

Yes, those with lesser shells, or some very unfortunate condition, aren’t given the same time of day,
The focus foolishly being elsewhere, the trite, sexy or sophisticated having too much say.
And we all the worse for such, ’cause it’s only what’s within that counts, and given beauty soon fades away,
Which means that where too much weight’s been given to such, it’s loss will be noticed more, and cause greater dismay.

The streets are full of injuries, broken and disfigured bodies-cum-less attractive shells, sadly,
’Cause life can be cruel, and Nature random — and far too often, thought and care lacking in humanity.
All why we need to stop and show we care wherever we can, and focus less on bodies, if at all,
Aware that the body’s nothing but a shell, and also mindful that upon us, misfortune could befall.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.