TRUE BELIEVERS

Did you ever wonder why we humans , act the way we do? Do you remember when you were all full of piss and vinegar? You could do A N Y T H I N G you wanted! And woe be unto the parent, or any responsible adult, who got in your way! And" Who in the hell do they think they are? I'm not a kid", mindset. We all went thru it, but there's nothing that feels sweeter than when, as a grandparent, your grown children say: "Ya' know dad, you were right". "About what" I asked? "You Know, pretty much everything". As kids, we never make the connection, or it's a loose connection, that our parents, really, are just trying to help us learn some of life's hard learned lessons. Trying to impart the wisdom of these personal battles to someone who only sees you at best, meddlesome, can be a daunting task. But, as a responsible parent, you feel a duty to at least try to make them see thru your eyes, the hurdles they eventually will endure. Often times to no avail. It is with this mindset, that I viewed the letters to the editor regarding the story, True Believers, published by Isthmus. I can't help but have that sense of saddened resignation that Robert Thelen III, an avowed Republican, will take his "I'm one of them, not one of you", attitude to his grave. It will truly be his loss. One can only hope he survives long enough to see the error of his ways and reach back and try to impart those hard lessons of life on his grandchildren.

THE OLD HOME

I walk into this empty room.
Such despair, remorse, and gloom.

I move some more into the hall,
and it is bare from wall to wall.

Another room, completely bare -
The children laughed and cried in there.

The kitchen now - There's nothing left
but walls and floor. - I feel bereft.

The bathroom is the fullest room,
but white with fright - impending doom.

The pantry weeps - the cupboards bare.
I can smell - it's in the air - - -

The stairs, they creak and groan with age.
I feel it now - the saddened rage!

The upstairs bedrooms now in sight -
The rooms, I tried to make just right.

They've fallen into disrepair.
We tried to make it better there.

But alas, the time is near -
The home will shed it's final tear.

The wrecking ball, will make it's leap
and smash the home into a heap.

The memories of this old home -
where children lived - the yard they'd roam.

The holidays, so filled with glee,
the happiness - - - escaping me.

The sadder times - There were a few.
This morbid sight will make it new.

One hundred years, and then a score,
it's life has been, but - nevermore.

BAD TO THE BONE

All of my worldly possessions are gone.
things I collected from hither and yon.
My books, & my plans, & my dreams, - but not sorrow -
It's all I have left - There will be no tomorrow.

A lifetime of dreams culled from here and from there,
all gone from my life - my cupboard is bare.
An eccentric collection, but mine just the same.
I was seeking possessions, not fortune and fame.
All that I wanted was, leave me alone,
But authorities tell you I'm bad to the bone!

Nicotine's bad - it's a terrible thing.
Think of the sickness and death it will bring
A cigarette here, and a chew of snuff there -
Emphysema, and cancer, - It's too much to bear.
Alchohol's worse, or so I have read.
Cirrosis, and driving will both get you dead!

So here I am sitting in jail all alone,
Cause authorities say that i'm bad to the bone.
The victimless crime that I stand accused
was that I grew pot - Marijuana was used.
I never sold any - for me 'twas intended.
Authorities remain truly unbended.

I could have been President, but I inhaled,
and because I was able, I must be jailed.
The deaths that have happened from pot - so inspired,
come only from turf wars. - Gunmen were hired!

The Corporate giants - They all agree -
If they can't make a profit, they'll keep it from me.
Alchohol and tobacco, is where it is at.
These are the things where the profit is fat.
You cannot grow pot, nor can I, alone.
'Cause authorities tell us, it's bad to the bone.

My home has been sold, my belongings are packed
But mostly in dumpsters, & landfills, they're stacked.
The dog and the cat, they went to the pound.
I'm sure going to miss that friendly old hound.

And so then my poeple, I bid you adieu,
and pray that the same fate won't happen to you.
I merely wanted to be left alone.
But authorities think that I'm bad to the bone.