.
.
.
Demoted to the status of another mouth to feed,
the newborn are a horror... and a treat.
On the one hand, they continue
what it was that *something* started;
on the other they're a symptom of... disease.
See, human spawn, if through a filter,
are infestations we've contrived.
Exponential accelerations in consumption...
not survived.
.
On the one hand they're salvation,
on the other they detract...
from the bounty which humanity has made.
On the one hand they are wondrous
with potentials of the gods,
on the other—tiny devils we've betrayed!
Betrayal? Yes, reflected in our bald hypocrisy.
"Do as I am saying, child...
Ignore what you might see."
.
Yes? We nurture infidelity
as we disrespect their brains.
We ridicule their innocence,
and we teach them wrong refrains.
We socialize their mindlessness;
we inculcate—purport.
We'd try and teach 'em "God" in school—
despite its bad report.
.
We treat them like the children...
we invent... but never were;
discounting their experience,
we distracted and deterred!
...We lied suggesting worship
for the framers of our systems
that exult "elitist gentry"
as the cure for human schisms!
.
We feed them vague distortions
of the truth on UFOs.
We obfuscate those issues
with a finger in our nose!
Pretending we have answers where we,
point in fact, have none,
we add to their contention that
we're finished, pointless—done!
.
The kids all know the real deal,
and they'll hate us as they can.
They resent the pap we've fed them...
when the truth got hard to stand!
They hate our lack of courage
and the way we rape their planet.
They hate our bland coercion
and its "reasons," understand it!
.
They resent that YOU resent them—
where they're not cursed by blame.
You envy them their innocence
and the fact they've known no shame.
You hate them: their reaction
to a FLEET of UFOs
is to clap their hands in fearless glee
and dance up on their toes!
.
They hate that they're demoted to
"another mouth to feed."
They hate you don't fulfill, in them,
the honor that they need.
They hate you don't believe them,
and they hate that you don't care;
they hate that you discount their lives
as shallow, facile—bare.
.
They hate you don't give credit;
they hate that you're not "real."
It's why they may go crazy,
why they drop out ... shoot up ... steal.
They've had the *best* of teachers, right?
These young or "dead of brain,"
no, education is a low-rent field;
the profession's warped and stained!
.
What's this to do with UFO's?
Why... kids aren't trained to "see"!
What we tell them they should look at,
we must show could make them free!
The way of it must *set them off*,
to soar among the clouds,
to loose them from our tethers,
and to teach them useful doubt!
.
If we want them to respect us,
we respect them first, in turn!
We stop our crass inequity,
and we show there's more to learn!
.
Do we breed a race of liars
to commit continued crime?
Do we insist the same mistakes
are made another time?
Are we the ones
—who wallow in our sickness rife with pus—
to pretend we're doing right by them...
to turn them... into us?
.- lehmberg2002@gmail.com
- www.AlienView.net
The child is the father to the man.
Seems a great time to me, a great time in a period of wealth like there has NEVER been—with NO thanks to a rabid "right" celebrating the individual at the expense of the aggregate, or an alleged anarchist "left," of large and overweening myth, but persecuting the individual on the stake for the aggregate —to cop to the new reality.
Treat the kids as we would individually be treated ourselves! Impress upon them that with regards to their number and furiously unthinking production of same—less of us is assuredly more! Lastly, understand that their world is more vital to them than our world. Pre-forming first impressions won't respect your inability to make a good one. There's no profit in the reflexive ridicule of their nascent and naive inexperience. To them, passion burns hotter, if not brighter, than your own...
Their world is filled with singular challenges, imminent threats, and anxious priorities we have forgotten as distracted adults. Evolving Adults aspiring to a certain non-distraction, we discover that even as all things known can be new again, we achieve but a fraction of what first-time experiencers experience, or make, of their first encounter with their reality. First encounters with felt presence of the moment. See, it's up to us to provide the bridge and relevance to them... to our presently very contrived, mal-defined and situational adult "reality"...
Too, ours is a situation t'would repel them if they only knew, and resent upon finding out! It would repel us if we but remembered... it did me... unencumbered, now, by that cowl of cognitive dissonance self-imposed... or in other words: convenient rationalizations required to buffer us from the truth we deny...
But that's our problem, a problem withering away into the startlingly obvious when confronted at last by the generic, real-time, and non-genuflecting "genuine," eh? That's where the kids are, eh? ...And how can we expect them to reach out willingly to our prosecution of distraction, hypocrisy, mendaciousness, dissatisfaction, hatred,
inefficiency, insulting obsolescence, and even cultural betrayal. How, indeed.
For the mercurial reader, then, consider this an "absence-of-love" poem in the under-appreciated traditions of one Theodore Sturgeon. Sire once or not at all... give it back! Sired, again I ask, do we do our kids a favor... to turn them into us?
Restore John Ford!
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