 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:35:06 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 149368
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Epistle From Dreams Better Left Dead
[time] => 2009-04-24 12:30:05
[hometext] => Free Verse - First Copy, so please leave constructive comments
[bodytext] => I’m sitting in the library of my school, dead tired and teetering on the edge of slumber. I am sitting in one of the comfy chairs; you know the ones, right? Well I overhear this conversation between two students. “Did you go to Jen’s party last night?” the speaker asks “Oh yeah!” the spoken to replies “Have lots of fun?” “Oh yeah you know it. But I came home late and my mom grounded me.” “That sucks.” “I know, I didn’t even do any drinkin’. I wish they would just understand what I want.” My friends and I talk about this topic often. We agree on this. All their friends agree on this too. So we made a pact to go from house to house every night, living our lives to the fullest. We would eat and drink and socialize and live freely and pray to the god of sex and drugs and rock and roll. We would teach the world that love is all we need and that war is inherently evil and that life is more than a bunch of proteins bumping into each other and tell them that living freely is how we should be living. And we will tear down the old order and unite the world and release the human spirit and the people would dance in the streets, savoring a first taste of true freedom and revel in the infinite life that love for other humans provides. And they would thank us. This is very difficult to accomplish because I know that my family I know, has this conversation frequently in my kitchen when I am out of the house. “I don’t think he realizes the importance of work ethic.” “Really? He doesn’t?” “Yes, I looked over his planner and he ignored all of his homework. Why doesn’t he get it done early?” “Procrastination, I guess. None of them understand anything other than it anymore, I guess.” And they will get together with all the other parents and create a coalition to instill the values of the elder generation on us. Hard work they will give us, and the American dream they will teach the importance of. They will give us books to read and teach us that defending oneself is always permissible and protect marriage and teach us tradition and morality and make us dress nicely for church every weekend and tell us to pray and see us become married and be faithful forever and make us perfectly, just like they were. They will defend the world from the dangers of people and the dangerous ideas they hold and give us the love that only parents can provide to sustain the ethical ways of life. And we would thank them. That is what will happen. That’s what I think anyways. I’m just guessing, but I think I know that it is true. I’m working on my laptop now. Its now 4:30 and people are starting to clear out of the library; Mr. Gehl is making veiled threats about what will happen if you do not leave by 5. A mildly obese boy walks past me, carrying a package and wearing a gigantic raincoat. He is talking to a small boy who’s slicked back hair distinguishes as him as a self-described intellectual, his lunch box as an outcast of society. “Do you know what this means?! America is doomed!” “You’re exaggerating.” The small boy says “No, there is proof, too many soft men in Congress.” And then he goes off on a tangent about how the Chinese are going to take over America and that Democracy is over and that they are going to overtake us if we do not help them realize the evils of communism and embrace capitalism, for they believe it is far superior. That is what I understand from the conversation. That is what he believes. I believe that there are others that believe what he believes. They probably sleep and when they dream at night they dream of the American Dream. They think America is the greatest country on Earth and want to bring democracy and capitalism and ideals and break down the Chinese oppressive regime and fre Tibet and release the internet and establish a government for the good of the people and bring the idea the consent of the governed. They want to bring MTV and McDonald’s and push-up bras and Coca-Cola and teach them English and give them bureaucracy and then and only then, they will not have to work for the Coca-Cola corporation and can be at peace with the United States of America. And the workers will thank them. But I also know for a fact that frequently in a factory off the Yangtze River while on the production, two workers have this conversation in Mandarin. “Do you know people actually drink this stuff?” “What, this lubricant we’re making? “No, this stuff is Coca-Cola! People in America drink this stuff because water is too bland and they want something to spend their money on. Also, Coke I’ve heard can bring you sex and trendy clothes. Have you had sex? It’s very fun.” “So Americans are enticed by images of their high schools?” “Its all they ever think about.” And so they get together with all the other Chinese workers and storm the United States and destroy our Coke machine and break into the Coke headquarters and kill the Coke profiteers and pour their syrupy blood in the streets. They would take pity on us and teach us the secrets of economics and raid the vending machines and destroy them and use the parts in factories they would have us work in. They would give us pictures of Mao and teach us to be happy under the strength that only a powerful government can provide. They will teach us efficiency and nationalism and how to make some good money. And we would thank them. Now once again, I see that neither of these plans could work, as it would take more than luck, perfect execution, and months of careful preparation that not even the Bush administration could do. The moment when people begin to act out their dreams, turning them into goals is truly dangerous, as this is the apex of insanity. Unless you have dreadfully boring dreams. Is this not what the large purple dinosaur lead you to believe? I’m sorry if I wrecked your childhood, but Barney was no prophet. I sigh and collect my backpack. The library is about to close and Mr. Gehl is looking me in that polite and simultaneously threatening way he does. Perfection for everyone or even one person is an impossibility (so why do we strive for it). That is why the dreamer is also the man, always unsatisfied, who silently screams that they will never truly face something commensurate with their capacity for wonder. That is their greatest tragedy. I walk out the library. The doors close heavily behind me and there is only my silence in the place that used to be my portal to the darkest rivers of my own heart and was the mirror of so many of my own dreams. It now shows me just how impossible it is to follow them. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 43 [informant] => maccabeus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com