Poppies Don't Have Flower Power

Well... I have till November 11 to get this one to where it needs to be. Any help would be much appreciated.

 

We, the children, ride the Merry-go-round,

Exploiting the momentum of a forgotten age,

The laughter of our naïve innocence

Is what our forefathers fought for.

 

Like sponges, we soak in

Angry three word sentences

Safely behind our colour TVs.

Anything in black and white is archaic,

Like our memories.

 

Flower power echoes,

Armed with acid,

Corrode the empathy away

In rock & roll style.

Conscripted heroes forgotten,

November eleventh - just a day off,

September eleventh - a summer blockbuster.

The Arabs just need to smoke a joint.

 

Sometimes,

I listen to those senile death magnets

With their strange ideas:

They tell me that freedom is worth dying for,

That people are actually supposed to be bound to their ball and chain

For life,

That fathers should know how to fix things

Mothers should know to cook things,

And families are supposed to actually work.

But we,

The spoiled children,

Don’t like being told what to do,

We play on the Merry-go-round,

A while longer.

Reviews

[Connie Wong]

September eleventh - my birthday :)