by Theresa Davis-Fowler
Once upon a time in a land that was green,
There lived a young ruler and boy was he mean.
I wouldn't say he was mean, maybe -- Misunderstood.
Thought he could run the country like his father could.
Oh, I don't think that's fair.
Do you doubt that we live in the land of the withs and withouts.
In a land where the few have the most and they spend,
and they plan, and they brag, and they boast.
While the many have less in property and in funds
While the few lay in luxury under the sun.
With their Monopoly Board called the U. S. of A.
And they buy and they mortgage our futures away.
As they merger, buy out, and file Chapter One One,
and then take larger tax cuts, they do, one by one.
Ok, I agree,
But don't be harsh, don't be mean.
Say what you must, but keep it PG-13.
Elections won with promises never meant to be kept.
Elections won in ways that didn't seem just.
Dimpled chads and machines that don't operate fine.
As hundreds of people stood waiting in lines.
Votes counted, some not, some lost or destroyed.
Now we wait and we wonder while troops are deployed.
We're not going to war.
There's no way, there's no how.
If he's gone this far, do you think he'll stop now.
Do you think he will stop now that troops have departed.
Do you think he'll finish what his dear daddy started?
Been there, done that, there'd be nothing to gain.
A war right now would cause nothing but pain.
What an unpatriotic thing for you to say.
Of course our dear Pres. doesn't want it that way.
Doesn't want it that way are you mad or insane.
What do you thinks happening, do you think it's a game.
Have you wondered what happened to educational funds.
Soldiers don't have to be smart, but wars have to be won.
You are not being fair.
You've jumped to conclusions.
You're implying we live in a land of delusion.
A land where the people's needs are not met,
where people are left here to fear and fret.
A land where the kids are just housed and not taught.
A land where souls can be sold or be bought.
A land where a buck goes farther than knowledge.
Where certain kinds of kids, may not get into college.
The one you began telling,
the one you began before you started yelling.
I am ready to hear the story you did begin.
Or are you just stalling?
Was your beginning the end?
The one about the ruler in the land far away.
Why don't you complete it, come on don't delay.
In a hurry to hear of this young rulers fate?
In a hurry to discover this political mistake?
Are you ready to hear of this young man's reaction?
Are you ready to deal with my affirmative action?
In this land, this sweet land, of the haves and have nots,
of the gives and the takes, of the gets and the gots.
Was a terrible plan to help rally this nation,
to scare and use terror to build agitation.
To make sure that his subjects consumed and consumed,
distracting them from their impending doom.
He talks a good game as he lies to the masses.
He dances and sings while we sit on our asses.
He preaches and promises riches galore.
He makes us all greedy he makes us want war.
The world is his sandbox to shape and to bend.
He is very particular about who he lets in.
Your story can't be true, such a land can't exist.
Such a place would make problems it can't possibly fix.
There'd be homeless, and hopeless, and hungry and poor.
There'd be families with children they couldn't afford.
When you turn on the Tele, what do you see?
Does this place look at all like the home of the free?
The high taxes, high treason, high living expense,
Is it that hard to see where the honesty went?
When to make a quick buck you can lie you can steal,
and if you're a Survivor you get a book deal.
When you look for reality on TV?
When you look for your answers from him or from me?
Do you wonder a bit where our loyalties lie?
Or are you like me?
Where you sit and you cry and you wonder
What the hell does it mean,
All the terror and violence you see on your screen?
Are we living in a land of hypocrisy?
Is history repeating, or just mocking me?
I don't like your stories; theyre scary and dreary.
The next time you share make your story more cheery!
Theresa Davis-Fowler is a poet and visual artist. She is the mother of three has been a teacher at Horizons School for eleven years. She is also a collector of multi-cultural children books.
© Theresa Davis- Fowler, 1/28/2003
Published in In Motion Magazine March 2, 2003.