From the Mouths of Babes

So I am rummaging through some of my old old old poems from back when I was young young young because they are dark and disturbing and prophetic and a young poet in my life (hello Stac) would probably find them interesting. It was my intent to send her a few to show her how similar I was to her at her age and younger....but that's not what this blog is about. This is different. I came across some REALLY old ones and one of them just pops out so relevantly to today's politics that I had to share it. This was written January 27, 1993 so I would have been 15 years old, I am not changing anything about this as I am copying it so please bear in mind I was a very young poet, I am compelled to tweak it but I won't....:

Memories

Iran, Iraq, The Tribes of Judah
Ireland, UK
The little people want to be free

Flags raised in contempt
Fists raised in debate
Black vs. White
Nothing but hate

No love, Just war
Peace is a Latin word
We writhe in pain
But beg for more

The children are dying
By their father's hands
The Government's lying
To protect our land

Blood runs cold
But quick you see
For this is America
The Land of the Free

America...the home of the brave
Well the brave are only filling graves
I'm sorry to say this land of ours
Is full of nothing but power hungry liars.

Gay vs. Straight
They run our lives
They ruin our families
And they're getting by.

The Pain
The Tears
So Vain
Our Fears

If this is America
May I always forget
That I am a native
Or that I've seen it.

Perhaps when I die
I'll have no regrets
But tonight I cry
I cry

I cry for my children
Their future's a mess
I cry for tomorrow
Her purpose is bleak

I cry for yesterday
She could not inspire

I cry for today
As we wallow in mire

I cry right now
I cry tomorrow
I'll always cry

Cry my acid tears
And scream my bloody fears
And shake at the cold of an icy race
I'll run from my country
Deny my humanity
Ashamed of what my world's become
Afraid of what we could have done

I cry
© J Wolf


GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY I was an intense little fart....already holding fast to my political convictions and liberal attitude long before I was old enough to vote. But funny how I am now more than doubled that age, and I still feel very much the same about the fate our country...soldiers are still dying, mothers are still crying, babies are still dying and the little people still want to be free.....

Just being my own worst critic, that poem definitely needs a name change...but I feel like I would be shattering a bit of my childhood if I did that. Hmmm.... Oh yeah, by the way, this poem was written back in the days when my goals were to run off to France or Italy and live in some run down villa with a few grape arbors and write novels and make cheap wine and have a lover (or two) named Pierre or Paolo or something. I never intended to stay in America.... Somehow I ended up on a farm, mucking cows, drinking cheap beer, raising kids, growing vegetables and swapping recipes online....go figure.

P.S. For those concerned...feeling MUCH better today. Maybe whatever it is that is ailing me is on it's way out!