#721 - shame job

23.xii.21

721

2.357

shame job

 

no one should ever feel shame

for a skin, for a tongue

for where you begin

for anything can’t be helped

 

whom from

how here

these are different things

 

there may be shame in what you know

but never in finding it out

 

no one should feel shame

for the flood, for the drought

for objective conditions

 

no shame in someone else’s loves

or wrongs, or rights

limp or limb missing

 

but attitude, as you decide

a turn of phrase, a ‘nothing meant’

a ‘never thought to give offence’

 

there is what you inherit

down to the crime

no one should feel any pride

in things that weren’t their doing

 

but things I haven’t done?

they’re a different story  

 

never own anything congenital

ashamed at times with whom we’ve slept

but nobody cooked their own genes

 

neither nurture nor nature

but there is what you choose to believe

and choose to is often a trick

 

the cut worm does not forgive

no shame to be who you are

unless…

 

shame is the seat of judgement

shame is a mighty throne

 

shame on those before the facts

who say that they already know

shame on the law that led us here

on guns, on poison

cruel hearts, sly heads

 

I’ll never be ashamed of my luck

but what to do with it – that’s different

 

there’s where you slipped, how punished

gossip and rumour taken along

 

ashamed of the question I never asked

of what I haven’t said

what I failed to call out

 

ashamed to have been asleep at the wheel

when the great crime was all around

 

neither proud nor ashamed of mere fact

ask yourself ‘are you ashamed to confess?’

 

ashamed of my government

never voted for them

and most of the world can say that

 

shame on the keepers of dungeons-in-mind

shame on the slaves of assumption

 

shame on the great historical personages

should have known better at the time

and some of those nobodies went along

might have bitten back

I’m proud of Wat Tyler, of Boadicea

I’m proud of the ones who did

 

never ashamed of the fire or the rain

ashamed of the weather I paid for

that I haven’t lain down in front of a coal train

(and I’m proud of the ones who did)

 

am I ashamed to have been bitten?

burnt I were left my hat?

grey days!

 

alive as me or you

I saw Joe Hill

and it wasn’t a dream

it’s proud to the grave we can go

 

shame on the perpetrators, on thugs, on bullies

shame on the big bag of gold …

and let’s all come out from under our stone  

 

paint up a placard, stand proud

¡no pasarán!

 

who wept and who’s weeping now?

proud of the fire in such rousing words

 

ashamed of some of the bridges I’ve burnt

proud of the times and the ones who have built them

 

the ancestors? take case by case

admit what you don’t know

(and is that always most of the story?)

be proud to find out what you can

proud to dare

 

ashamed of the feeble excuses

for not having seen what’s blinding me now

ashamed the bastards tricked me down

proud to have worked it out at last

 

ashamed if I’ve hidden under a flag

ashamed sometimes of what’s in my trolley

of who slaved my shirt

and whom I have cooked

 

often ashamed of what I have swallowed

or never properly chewed

though that’s frequently after event

 

never ashamed to have lost the good fight

never too proud when we win

 

plenty of causes

plenty of motives to make yourself proud

and let’s be ashamed of the high moral ground

 

never ashamed of the tongue I was given

never ashamed of my skin