Yesterday is much clearer
As the future is drawing nearer.
The histories we have rehearsed
Over time have become reversed.
It should make us very sad;
What was good has become bad.

The bad guys were the Indians
And the good guys Caucasians
And they were always right
Because they were always white.
The Red Man was a villain
Because he was an Indian;
And that was never corrected.
The name an invader selected.

These were people born here
Defending land they held dear
Because they had hunted
And were never really wanted.
The invaders called them savage
Their women okay to ravage
Because they didn’t have Jehovah
To issue them a binding mitzvah.

There were so few invaders
So at first they were persuaders.
But after putting out some feelers
They chose to become stealers.
They declared the natives sinners
And thus became the winners.
The natives hadn’t learned to read
So the invaders ignored all their needs.

The invaders were prepared to fight
To deny the natives their rights
So, the invaders created paper laws
Thus natives couldn’t tell what they saw.
Suddenly the noble savage was a crook.
The invaders gloated over what they took;
Stole native’s possessions from their hands
And declared it all as the invader’s land.

This is the Danes and Angles back when
And the story happened all over again.
But once the battle victory is scored
The native’s birthright is not restored.
The invaders cover up the tragedies
With inaccurate tales and call them history.

When you’ve had enough
Of maniacs and hustlers,
Of fakes and phonies
And smooth talking hucksters
It’s time to pull back
And sort through the weeds
To find the flowers
And see what you need.

Not what you want,
That’s something different.
If your needs aren’t met
Life can get belligerent.
You need breath and water
And some other great stuff
Or you stop living a lot
And that is rather rough.

Once we move from needs
The rest are all your wants
And you can live without them
Despite all your rowdy taunts.
How many times have you heard
I need coffee when I wake up?
That is a case of your want
That comes in a handy cup.

Or, I need to buy cigarettes
But that isn’t really true.
You don’t think you’ll die without
I mean, not really, do you?
Or, I need some ice cream now
Or a cruller or two or three.
That doesn’t sound fatal
Unless you do that daily.

So, the best thing you can do
For your one and only body
Is to try your best to keep
The thing from getting shoddy
By separating the things
That your body best deserves
And realize that ignoring wants
Does nothing but get on nerves.

With that clearing of your head
And setting of new priorities
The Big Things of the day
Turn into pesky minorities.
Suddenly you see that you
Can choose who to ignore
And then see what you need
And need for nothing more.

I love Twinkies,
The sweet food, not the guys.
I love how they taste
And ignore the chubby thighs.
Gedunk.

I really dig pizza,
The kind covered with stuff
I eat it every day.
I just can’t get enough.
Gedunk.

Ice cream is great
I can eat it by the tub
And then I look like one
A human tub, there’s the rub.
Gedunk

It’s a US Navy word
For tasty stuff I like to eat;
Anything high sugar
Low food value and very sweet.
Gedunk.

The kind of stuff I like
When I’m at the movies.
Sweet, greasy or salty.
Sometimes even hyper meaty.
Gedunk.

Food value no need,
Just something to munch.
Nutrition and such
Just leave that for lunch.
Gedunk.

The same with politics
I usually kind of go along.
If the issues are annoying
Well that’s just wrong.
Gedunk.

I want someone who talks
About stuff that’s easy to hear.
Like football, and sports.
Politics doesn’t go with beer.
Gedunk.

I want to hear simple things
Like blaming others for what’s wrong.
See? I just vote my gut
And kind of just go along.
Gedunk.

What was it like
To be who I was
Before I became
Who I am now?
You want to know
The old, old story
All about the tale
Of when and how?

You know I was not
A member of nobility.
That is not a part
Of my ignoble history.
You know I was not rich
Because I have no gold.
So, what was I after all
In my days of old?

As I was no hero
Heralded in legend songs.
I was but a normal person.
Any praise would be wrong.
There are no carvings,
Friezes on marble walls.
No horde of loyal soldiers
Rally at my urgent call.

But I can leave life
Proud to say what is true.
I died without a penny
To any other person due.
I achieved most of my dreams.
I will say that with my last breath
Between my humble life
And my inglorious death.

I worry for a creature
One that calls itself wise
That needs to believe
Some ancient pack of lies
About timeless people,
Gods that can never die,
Though they are preposterous,
They fail to ask why.

I worry for a people who
In an age that conquers disease
Where we can educate ourselves
To do almost whatever we please;
Can turn night into the day
And speak across the many miles
Still chant their superstitious tales
About magic arts all the while.

It seems they are trained monkeys
Who push buttons for rewards
When spiritual independence
Could be their permanent award.
They thank the wrong saviors
For pulling us out of the slime
That has punished our people
Back since ancient times.

It was not ritual witchery
That gave our people freedom.
Instead it was seeing clearly,
Analysis, research and wisdom.
No blathering high priestess
With winged dragons to fight
Brought us medical cures, or
Radio and electric light.

I’ve been a busboy, a waiter,
A salesman for road crews
A cook and a soda ****.
The American market is
Not set up that well for
Kids who want to work.
Before I was twenty five
I’d had eighty different jobs
Some of them at the same time.
Some parents think their kids
Are a good source of income.
Others think that is a crime.

I suppose it’s one thing
If the kid picks his own job;
Does what he wants with money.
But robbing his stash
When he is out working
Is not even close to being funny.
And keeping a youngster
Both working and schooling
And no social or playtime is sad.
It robs him of childhood
And rips off all his ambition.
The child has to somehow turn bad.

Maybe it only trusting
That the kid learns not to do.
Maybe that dreams don’t come true.
Maybe the kid learns
His hard work and dedication
Only gets him blisters when he’s through.
That was all true of me;
I did what I was told and
I learned that joy and accomplishment
Earned no praise for the doing
Only produced, if I didn’t work hard
A tremendous amount of admonishment.

So, when I left home
I had no direction in mind;
I looked ahead to sixty more years
Of working and being robbed
By people I wanted to trust
And not even being capable of tears.
This may sound like a whine
Blaming and much worse
A griper that’s totally out of line.
But what it really means
Is your kids aren’t your slaves
To be put to work in some coal mine.

Over the river
And through Grant Woods
Through Hallmark scenes we go.
Through colors of white
That are not quite right
Not even for ******-on snow.

If Currier and Ives
Tends to give you the hives
You really might not want to go.
By now we have cars
And thank your stars
No shoes for the horse to throw.

Old men in jeans
In bucolic scenes
From a hundred years ago.
Don’t be in a rush
As driving through slush
Can cause accidents, you know.

Turkey and dressing
And Parker rolls
May suit the day just fine,
But a warning here
I’ll make it clear
You might not like mulled wine.

When you have eaten
While women work
The men can go off and drink.
The men getting *******
A seasonal disgrace,
The gals keep their minds on the sink.

Later while driving back ,
The men passed out,
The women behind the wheel.
They women all try
To figure out why
They go through this yearly ordeal.