A Poem for the People
Here is a poem for the people about some things that I've thought through
While living off the land this past year or two.
Walking, talking, riding, and eating rabbit stew,
I found what my parents always knew.
I didn't know I was happy when living with Dad and Mom;
Meat on the table, three cars in the garage and a maid along.
But starving through Wyoming was enough to make me see,
The good life that my folks had given me.
While living down in Bakersfield, I stayed with longhaired Dave.
A heaven with no problems he'd been taught to crave.
Removal of his negatives was gained with a chemical pill,
As pushers made their heaven from poor Dave's hell.
Now each man leaves his Eden; it seems a holy plan.
That through the pains of living we are taught to stand.
We grow through resistance; troubles make us strong.
For an easy heaven I don't long.
Well you've got to taste the bitter to appreciate the sweet.
The cold is defined by the presence of the heat.
Life becomes more real as death sneaks to steal,
And war shows a man the joys of peace.
© Allen Hackworth 2000