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Open Poetry #13
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Embers_Before_God
Member
since 2001-03-06
Posts 101
USA

0 posted 2001-04-05 11:01 PM



Cancer


I’ve watched egotism
during its finest hour,
as new eras
bloom everyday—
successions of days, years,
marching past
(except they lack an all-important beginning).

I’ve strolled through malls,
discerned the gapped generations
of mall-walking elderly
and straight-haired girls still in the grasp of puberty;
the stage (and it’s such a wide stage)—from the common vagabonds,
to the high-nosed fur-bearing cunts
who believe everything and everyone is beneath them
(but, in reality, the only thing that is porcelain about them
is the well-buffed shine upon each one’s nose)—
is set for the entire country,
designed for those who crave familiarity,
for the one’s, whose only wish, is to be part of the in-crowd,
and only serves to sink the ships
of the more common, lack-of-self-worth individuals,
who only desire to purchase the cheapest pair of sneakers
for the children that deserve them the most.

I’ve witnessed
the giggles of today’s youth.
I’ve seen
the rolled-eyes
as they peer at those not considered peers.
They all seem the same—
the youth of today—
wearing those dark straight-legged pants
(even straighter than their hair),
that do not conceal their hips
and those tiny, tight and bright-colored tops
designed to show their navels
and expand the size of their bossoms—
a million Britneys and Christinas.

And the boys, oh the boys,
have they ‘scaped my eye?

I should be thankful
that grunge has passed,
that flannel is not in fashion.
Yet, I haven’t noticed their clothes,
though their attitudes shine through
as crystal clear as melting ice.
Indeed, it must be rough for today’s youth,
for the need to carry the guns to school
seems to grow faster than weeds.

I cannot claim to know their pain,
but who’s to blame?
The video games?
The music?
The violent movies?
What of those porcelain dolls
and straight-haired teens
that walk through the malls
feeding off the latest trend?
I suppose it’s as much to blame as anything.

We all feel a need,
a need to fit in,
though most of us are trampled
in a stampede of greed—
trampled for self-esteem.

It spreads like a cancer,
devouring our souls heedlessly,
and I find myself wondering,
about tomorrow’s generation—
the youths and vagabonds,
the porcelain *****es and those in despair.
They, too, shall face their own cancer.
And I find my own child wandering within the next era.
I find myself frightened for him, for myself—my family.

I wonder of Frost and “The Road Not Taken,”
and if any of tomorrow’s era
will choose the path he took,
or if they, too, will be intromitted to that cancer.

I feel sorry for them;
my heart aches with dire pain.
I want to reach out to them,
take their hands,
lead them away, instead of astray,
but I can only tend my own child,
and can only hope
the cancer steers clear.

Todd K. Bush
© Copyright 2001
All Rights Reserved






Dance with me under the moon. Touch my pale skin. Devour me. Love me.

© Copyright 2001 TkB - All Rights Reserved
Mother_Earth
Senior Member
since 2000-11-20
Posts 1370
1/2 year Texas & 1/2 year Michigan
1 posted 2001-04-06 12:15 PM


Embers_Before_God,  WOW  you have given me alot to think about and in different ways. Is
there a special way to be a "people watcher"?  Do we really want to know what is going on in these strangers minds?  You got the message out there and I guess it is up to us.  Hugs,  ME

Mabel A. Dilley
Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 859
Seattle, WA, USA
2 posted 2001-04-06 12:20 PM


Message sent and recieved, dear friend. I have not an idea of stemming the tide of the trite who remain chasing the golden globe, but do know that many of them break and wind up in office such as mine for repair. Thoughtfully penned.

"I am not now that which I have been."

Joyce Johnson
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State
3 posted 2001-04-06 12:26 PM


And you've already found the answer.  You tend your own child.  If every parent did that and did it well, the problem would be solved.  Joyce
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