Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.


And So It Goes

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but let them savagery see,
Via the movie theater, those videos or TV.
Let them watch all those cartoons, let them read those comics too,
Where viciousness and cruelty are displayed for them to view.

“Don’t smack your child!” they wail, but let them violence see,
Splashed throughout those news broadcasts (during dinner) on TV.
Let them crime and war scenes watch where gruesome reports repel,
Or any advertising using violence to sell.

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but let them thuggery see,
Via such sports as boxing where they punch repeatedly.
Yes, let them watch those knock-outs, and those bloodied faces too,
And the audience braying like hyped up audiences do.

“Don’t smack your child!” they shout, but let them animals kill,
Tell them that it’s just for sport, and say, “Hone your killing skill.”
Then encourage them further by purchasing them a gun,
So they’ll soon think that killing is a barrel full of fun.

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but let them unsound things see,
Like bawdy sexual scenes, yes, soft-core pornography.
Scenes where force stifles a plea, or where “No” really means “Yes,”
And where two married actors their own marriage vows transgress.

“Don’t smack your child!” they holler, but let them crudity hear,
And the foul language also, that soon will echo elsewhere.
Let them watch rude gestures too, that they’ll copy when at school,
And all those bad role models that they’ll soon consider cool.

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but damage their fragile ears
Via those stereo speakers with that thump that soon impairs.
While they’re captive in your car, or reclining at home too,
Let those speakers loudly thump like so many parents do.

“Don’t smack your child!” they howl, but let them take in that smoke
Blown from your cigarette that some illness will provoke.
Let them share your cigarettes, let them other drugs have too,
Let them have their party pills so that damage will accrue.

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but let them spirits guzzle,
And later, when they’re arrested, watch them shake their head and puzzle.
Leave them with that thumping head, and those red eyes they will rub,
As they sleep off the effects of time wasted in the pub.

“Don’t smack your child!” they roar, but yell at them, call them names,
Do and say repeatedly what children emotionally maims.
Tell them that you’re too busy to stop and chat or play with them,
Make promises you won’t keep, and their faults repeat, condemn.

“Don’t smack your child!” they cry, but aggression encourage,
Via the competitive spirit that envy can cause, or folk discourage.
Fuel a selfish ambition that selflessness cuts across,
Via such rivalry where one gains through another’s loss.

Yes, I’m sure you’ve got the point -- that’s right, inconsistency,
Which some who’re anti-smacking side step hypocritically.
While busy downing smacking, they are turning a blind eye
To what are really dangers, and this begs the question, “Why?”

By Lance Landall