Thursday, September 14, 2006

.. wh3n 3v3|2y7h1ng w45 51mp13

For September eleventh,
and what happened that night ..

I present to you
a spontaneous poem :

" Feelings "
( When Everything was Simple )
by Siesta Lingo

When we were very young,
When we didn’t know any better,
We would make rude comments
And They would just laugh.
We would ask simple questions,
And They would answer,
And we would feel like we knew so much,
And They would just laugh.

When we were very young,
When we didn’t know any better,
We would ask Them to play with us,
And They would just laugh.
We would open our few presents on Christmas morning,
And we would be overjoyed,
And we would not even bother to say thank you,
But They would just laugh.

When we were very young,
When we didn’t know any better,
We would play on our little plastic instruments,
Or at least bang on the pots and pans,
And They would cover their ears,
Then They would just laugh.
We would accid3ntally dial 911,
And the Policeman would come to the door,
And He would look at us funny,
And if we were lucky,
They would just laugh.

When we were very young,
When we didn’t know any better,
We were familiar with only a few songs,
And we would hum them or sing them all the time,
Extremely off-key,
And They would no doubt become very annoyed,
But They would just laugh.

As we grew up,
As we began to know better,
We would learn to be polite.
We would learn our manners.
We would find so many more questions
That had yet to be answered.
We would learn that They had work to do.
We would learn not to interrupt Them.
We would find so many more ways
That we could spend our time.

And we would find out the hard way,
That there were some things They didn’t like,
And that if we did these things,
We would get into Trouble.
And we would find that we did not like Trouble.

We would try to avoid Trouble.
But we could not escape It.
And we would always want to get out of Trouble once we were in.
And this new Feeling would emerge inside of us,
And we would not understand what It was,
But we would find that It was powerful.
And It would overcome us.
And we would yell
And shout
And kick
And scream,
And maybe They would just try to ignore us,
Or maybe They would come into where we sat,
Into Trouble,
And we would see that Feeling in Their eyes,
And we would still not even begin to understand It,
But we would see its power.

And They would come to us,
And we would not know why,
But we would become Afraid.
And we would wince,
And our tears would well up in our eyes,
And we would Cry.
And It would overcome Them.
And They would yell
And shout
And hit
And scream,
And we would just Cry.
And we would not understand what It was,
But we would find that It was powerful.

And over time we would discover more and more Feelings,
Each one different from the last,
But all of them powerful.
And we would try to understand Them,
But we could never succeed.
And we would just find that
There were many types of Anger,
Many types of Fear,
Many types of Sorrow.
And They would overwhelm us.

So we would need something good to help us get through
The Bad.
And we would remember Music.
And we would remember that Music is good.
And we would just listen.

And eventually we would learn that
There was a whole world of Music out there,
A whole world of Feelings,
A whole world of questions,
Some of them answered, but not many.
We would discover a whole new world.

And we would explore this new world,
And we would grow up.
And We would, for the most part, like Our world.
But there would of course be Parts of it that We didn’t like.
And We would remember Before,
When everything was Simple.
When we were very young,
And we didn’t know any better.

And We would still ask questions,
And if they knew how
They would answer.
And We would feel like We knew so much.
And somewhere someone very young,
Who didn’t know any better,
Would also ask questions.
And We would answer simply,
And they would feel like they knew so much,
And We would just laugh.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

And the cycle continues
When the "We" become the "They"
And a whole new generation of
"We's" comes along,
Wondering, Asking, Questioning
They (meaning we) just laugh
And brush all the little "We's" off
Soon They become We
And we just disappear
The cycle goes on
We, They, We, They

~Miss A.

(that's what popped into my head after i read this. it's not as pretty sounding as your poem, but i wanted to put this here.)

 
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