Poetry Zone - Page 25

When I was young, so very young
I would hear the cry of those moms
Who did stay home to raise their kids
While others ran away to play or strapped for the work they did

'In whose hands are you leaving your children? '

When in my latter teen years, home
Back from work on a week end night
My own classmates, parte' away
Why, when the clock ticked ten the local news, kindly display?

'Parents, where are your children? '

For I did know just where they were
While mother said, 'I'm glad your home! '
Damn this news thing, she'd seen it too'
For there was too many a time myself, I did go roam.

But out here in the old Midwest
They say that we are far behind'
No way, I say! We toke as hell!
It's just not the way of our parental kind set of mind

For they grew up from the old school
That taught things always would happen
During the night when so shady
You would never ever find goin' in daylight's dampen

Missing children, famly' stories
Of how just the old times did go
And her mother once relayed to her
This deep dark family secret, you know

Yea, right! Mom those are fairy tales.
As I did tune then in to view
The latest from my high school friends
About a new show that you should see too

You see I have heard those stories
From others so many years ago
I knew not where I heard before
But it was not just from my mom you know

She was not there I realize
The first time I heard the words 'Live,
From New York' show, but I do now
Remember 'twas from dad's friend who did strive

About a man did picket cross
I overheard early today
How they seen him later near home
He had four flats, a lesson fast, their way!

That's not right, maybe he had to
His children may have needed bread
And never approved of stealing
Or even charity to get them fed

Knowing the unions, how do they say?
'It's my way or the highway' bro
And they say supervisors do?
Who's right, who's wrong? It's still that way ya know

But there is one from long ago
That no-one here may remember
About when times were very hard
And so deadly the sad done surrender

I have pieced it all together
For I'm one big History nut
You may think I am crazy but,
Maybe someday while near a campfire's hut

I'll relay a story to my own
Of how my family seed was sown

For it seems He never changes
In the way He loves his children
For now I know one they do not
And the hidden secrets all the hills rend

But being the nut I am, I do
Genealogy of them too
And searching those cemeteries
Here's one they may not care for to pay due

How the cholera was here too
And now I even do know it
For I have watched some spooky ones
Of times far past and they still show it

I'd search courthouses for so long
And have found the stones to prove it
How my famly' too, lost one at two
Age of child's wean, more or less, remove it
Just how it spreads, and they all knew
So did Nostradamus and Poe too

The water dummies! Sinners Creek!
Good man's spring! Cholera, Black Plague,
Bubonic Plague!

If you drink water from one town
That it's sewer has polluted
So far downstream, you know it not
But the waste is yet to be diluted.

Babies and old men, give satan away every time!
Maybe God's hand makes us take a stand, as I have solved that one
Now many will claim that they already did
For there are some who've always known it
They may have even kept it freshly repainted
Sometimes there are little clues we miss every day
But when they are revealed this way
It tends to make us wonder

But don't spend all our time looking for clues
Or as the old timers would say
'Daydreaming doesn't get the work done'
Or did liberal schools make us that way
Oh well, they say; one must eat, so I better go.
Right there; no work, no pay, but the old timers always knew that one!