Whistling In the Dark

(A Rave By A Poet) Remember when you were a child? Adults seemed then to be in control, Almost like Gods, with special powers That almost always knew When you'd been up to mischief. ‘Playing with matches again Brian? ' What a childish view of things! Right? And my punishment, how perfect that was! ‘After you've finished lighting two boxes Of wooden matches, one at a time, You can go to bed, without your supper! ' Probably the best punishment I ever got. I really couldn't believe my luck But I was more careful after that! Of course mom's punishment didn't stop me. Do you remember match guns, Made from 2 wooden clothespins? Oh, my God, what fun those were! A little carving with a kitchen knife Reversing the spring on the outside, And some electrical tape was all it took. Really made me appreciate man's genius! Hiding behind parked cars (a block from home) And shooting flaming missiles in the dark At unsuspecting passing cars And then running like Hell On a preplanned escape route When the innocent victim screeched to a stop Jumped out of his car to yell at long gone villains. Honestly, the 4th of July couldn't beat this! Carrying out the garbage every night Now that was a chore made in Hell, Though better than the night pots Our forebears had to deal with. Wow, thank God for outhouses But especially modern sewage systems! At my house the trek to the garbage can Was a long hike, especially for a kid. We burned trash in those days, There was no garbage pick up, And the can was hidden in an alley way, You had to go through a gate to get to it. A big elm tree (that I loved in the daylight) Blocked even starlight and made the yard dark. I always was scared so I'd whistle to and back Praying that if a monster got me Mom would know, My whistle wouldn't stop without reason, That there was a chance at least of rescue, I think I was too scared though to test it out, I needed to believe that Mom would hear. How insensitive the child is to adult problems. But really how's a child to know The tyranny of feeding a family, Of trying to secure an unknown future, Without a crystal ball, only prayer really! (Though with luck, maybe some common sense.) Parents, really are children grown large, Carrying their demons in a sack on their backs, Taking them out on occasion to play with, Hoping against hope that that's all there is, That some special Hell doesn't await them! Meteor showers that exterminate all life, Dust bowls, global warming, ice ages, A new Yellowstone blast that buries our cropland, A Canary Island tsunami that wipes out the East Coast (A 2,000 foot wall of water now 50 years overdue) , Magnetic storms that destroy all electronic progress That we've made in just the last fifty years? The universe may seem big But there's really no place to hide. The public school system, what a joke! More like twelve years of day care. A football coach teaching physics, Latin the only language choice? (Sure opened up the world for me!) The most important job of our lives Getting married? Sex? Raising a family? Well our parents were screwed too, ‘Pass it on, no pass backs, joke's on you kid! ' You want to fix the problems of the world? Make politicians work for no salary or benefits Let them shower us with their love of country, Eat cafeteria food every day (no wine) , Random armed guards monitor their calls. Let's make teaching the highest paid profession With teacher's tenure voted on each year (Each kid two votes, parents one vote for both parents, Put power where it belongs baby.) Well this may not in fact be a poem, But it has sure been cathartic. Hope my venting at least struck some chords And was not a complete waste of your time. May God save us every one! Brian Johnston April 18,2014