Prisoner of the state...... (poem) by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER on AuthorsDen

Prisoner of the state......
by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER → (All Poetry by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER)
Rated "PG" by the Author.

Save

Follow Share on Facebook

You wanted to know why I was so dumb. Don’t get me wrong now, I don’t blame the teachers, they are caught in this moral fly trap, or better, clap trap, just like us. Another industry, the learning industry, I call it the torture industry, it’s all geared to stay ahead of the next guy, the next country, etc, be more productive, well productivity is doing us in. too many products , not of the stuff that sustains life, the stuff that sustains life is run and owned by the smart guys, the goody goodies in school, the ones I hated and still do, no I don’t want to compete with them, don’t want to be like them, I just want my birthright back, the one they are stealing with their goody, goody, brains, the morally decorated ones. I always wondered that our natives were smarter then us, without going to formal school, and all lived a sustainable life, we, with all our learning, should emulate them today, I would almost say, we have outsmarted ourselves , if this is not an oxy something. Ain't it a wonderful system, Yeah I know ain't ain't a word, but be happy I put the Parent Guidance designation on this write, so little boys that feel like I felt, won't run away from home or school.
The goody goodies in school I hated, The ones that hid behind an apple a day, The ones that wouldn’t really play, The ones behind the desk you baited, The clowns, the bullies, and the show offs, With plenty brawn, not brain were blessed, But I think, by now you’ve guessed, I hated school and all it’s fluff, A milieu of little sheep herded all about, Go for peepee, if you needed not, But if you had to, kept you in your spot, And don’t be too darn laud, Like little marionettes they pulled your string, Like little soldiers on parade, Brush your teeth and don’t’ be late, You couldn’t laugh, but they made you sing, Turn around, now march, be smart, Did I hate it? You bet I did, Five hundred minutes a day I sit, Strapped like a donkey to a cart, Well you know as well as I, bullies ran the show, They made sure that I would go, The thing I learned in school I know, You want to live? Go with the flow, Had someone taken time instead, But, too many of them meek sheep, More easy in them pens to keep, Wouldn’t make it fun instead, You learned to lay an egg a day, Like productive little hens, Clucked in their little pens, No time for serious play, Prisoners of our minds we were, On and on the drone of learning, Some day soon a penny earning, But I really didn’t care, On and on it went, ad infinitum Stole my youth my time to play, Not once gave me a say, Now seriously, can write and add a sum, But what I find is really dumb, Despite now write and add a sum, Subtraction I do most, my years are done, Can’t get them back, or all the fun, What I mean to say is this When you wound your clock, your minutes, You can’t subtract what’s in it, When first your life did kiss, The others I was told, them too they went, For reasons too, to stay ahead, Instead of play, compete instead, To survive and pay the rent, Slavery it’s called this systems trap, Child soldiers for the state, We had to make the grade, Had to learn to dance and tap, Every second should beguile your life, To live it full the way you want, Not someone with your time abscond, No tyrants give you strife, This is your moments Grace in space, No need build castles in the sky, Teach yourself the wonders why, At your leisure and your pace.©

Reviewed by Jon Willey

Reviewed on April 25, 2009

Jasmin, your poem is charged with emotion my friend -- I picture from your descriptions, little cookie cutter children being formed for the oven -- to be loosed upon society void of the interpersonal relationship skills and real values for living life, day to day -- excellent work my friend -- peace and love -- Jon Michael

Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks

Reviewed on April 22, 2009

Oh, J.H. It's what we learn when we're not trying. Ofttimes our child's mind retains more than we realize. I've learned more by reading throughout my non-school years (except I enjoyed the math :o), and we can always keep on learning in our adult life. Your poem, as usually all, gives us food-for-thought...
Blessings and Love (and g'night)- Micke

Reviewed by J'nia Fowler

Boy, I couldn't have said it better myself. Boredom was the state I experienced most while the Morons bantered on producing another class of widget makers for the state/Country. I cried a lot because of the boredom, the absolute truth according to the teachers and the text books and the inane rules. It is an evil practice to attempt to steal a child's soul. J'nia

Reviewed by Carolyn Red Bear (The Bear Paw)

Hi Jasmin, You write a profound and much disliked truth here. I didn't like what the school system taught, would not "conform" to what they wanted. Later in life, I learned that the American Public School System, even the Universities, are what Hitler used! The same exactly! And we all seen and know the results of that! So prisoner of the state? You are write ON! Blackboard Blackmail is a wonderful book.

In Spirit,
Bear

Reviewed by Mr. Ed

I always wondered that our natives were smarter then us, without going to formal school, and all lived a sustainable life, we, with all our learning, should emulate them today.

I still try to do that, but I fear they were much smarter than me. A much simpler life, in tune with nature, sounds marvelous to me, especially these days.

Reviewed by Georg Mateos

School, in my days you needed to learn Latin, to read the Classics (who?) when you didn't understand what the teacher meant.
Repetition-repetition-repetition until you could said it without forgetting a comma, that you didn't had a idea of what you were reciting seems not to bother anyone.
Bullies we had, but they were as dumb as we were, the only difference was their size, otherwise, no divergences in the Dunce*s Club.
I wonder if today's kids feel the same.

Georg

Reviewed by John Flanagan

Reviewed on April 21, 2009

Jasmin,
This is strong gut writing, coming from deep within, a confessional and rage all at once...and you make excellent points; "...strapped like a donkey to a cart" is highly charged. Well said, Sir!
John