Through Children's Eyes
The elections are coming. Oh deep joy! I have a real dislike for politicians, especially as they only want to know you when it is time for you to vote for them. This poem, Through Children’s Eyes, was difficult to place into my collection. Part of me, wanted to include it in my comedy selection, but then again, politicians are no joke! I think that the world would be a better place if we just got rid of the lot of them, and let children run the world for a while. Five and six year olds would be my choice. Ice cream for breakfast, and every second Sunday, Christmas. Oh yeah! I could live in a world like that. Unhealthy, but happy. I say, let the kids have a go. They couldn’t make a worse mess than the adults have done.
Through Children’s
Eyes.
By Amanda Jay Clark.
Oh, deep joy, the
elections are coming.
Would-be MP’s will be knocking on my door.
They will pretend that they remember me,
From when we met the election before.
They’ll tell bare-faced lies while smiling.
Make promises they will never keep.
Give no answers to my questions,
Yet, waffle on till I fall asleep.
They’ll all
try hard to convince me,
That their policies are the best.
That without them, my life will be nothing.
That they are better than all the rest.
It’s all a load of nonsense, of course,
Whether Liberal, Labour, or Tory.
Cos as soon as they get into number ten,
They change their election story.
Things never get
better for people like us,
The politicians see to that.
The rich continue to get richer,
While life for the rest, falls flat.
The poor just keep getting poorer,
No matter how hard they toil, and grind.
Their heads just won’t stay above water.
No such thing as true peace of mind.
I say, let’s
take all the politicians,
And dump them on an island somewhere.
Let them argue it all out together,
And destroy each other there.
Who the hell is going to miss them?
We don’t need them, that’s for sure.
Once they are well and truly out of the way,
Things will be better than ever before.
I’m tired of
having them tell me,
"Do as I say, not do.
You little people have to suffer,
For the good of the privileged few.
If you poor were allowed to be equals,
Who would we look down our noses at?
You lower classes don’t deserve comfort,
And it’s time that you realised that!"
I love being told
to tighten my belt,
By a multi-millionaire.
To have them trample all over my feelings,
Without a single thought, or care.
They raise VAT, and taxation,
Insist on disability benefit cuts.
They shout about family values,
Then they sleep around like sluts!
And, every budget
Tuesday,
Up go cigarettes, and beer.
Up goes the price of everything that,
The working class hold dear.
And when we ask for fairer wages,
They laugh at us, and say,
"Working for us should be privilege enough,
Why the hell would you want any pay?"
"You should
fall to your knees and thank us.
It’s time for you to admit,
You are lucky to be our servants,
And privileged to clean up our shit.
We allow you to breath our air, don’t we?
We let you eat left-over food.
What else do you low-lifes want from us?
It’s time to change your sorry mood!"
When you step
over someone who’s homeless,
Looking down your nose in disgust,
You judge them as if they deserve a life,
Of sleeping in the dust.
Do you ever dip into your pocket?
Or just yell, "Get a job.
Don’t contaminate my air-space,
You filthy, rotten slob."
Next time you put
on your tiara,
And your two-hundred-pound an ounce scent,
Your designer clothes, and Italian shoes,
For some so-called charity event,
You can’t tell me it’s an act of kindness.
That you are doing it as a good deed.
You’re doing it to look good to your posh friends.
Nothing goes to those really in need.
Now, let’s
picture the world without them.
The MP’s, and the I’m better than you’s.
Give the world to those who deserve it,
And give the others their overdue dues.
Let’s simplify all the problems,
And find the truth behind their lies.
Let’s view the world as the innocent do,
By looking through children’s eyes.
Through the eyes
of an innocent child,
The world is a fabulous place.
A giant, adventure playground,
Where problems float away out through space.
A magical world of fantasy,
Where dishes elope with spoons.
Where the only cruel, nasty villains,
Are found in colourful cartoons.
What they can’t
find in their imagination,
Is available in their dreams,
Or somewhere over the rainbow,
And under moonlight beams.
Like Alice through the looking glass,
Anywhere can be wonderland.
Eager minds always searching, and learning,
Ready to accept, and understand.
Though curious,
they are never judgmental.
They accept us for who we are.
They love us with unconditional love,
One species, sharing a star.
Being rich, or poor doesn’t matter,
So long as there’s a goodnight kiss.
And a loving embrace in the morning,
Then the time in between, is bliss.
They believe in the magic of Santa Claus,
The tooth fairy, and Easter Bunny.
With their dispositions as light as a feather,
Even the cloudiest days can be sunny.
Every second Sunday would be Christmas.
Ice cream would be the breakfast of the day.
Death and pain would be forbidden.
Life would be laughter all the way.
Who is it that
steals their innocents?
Like a demon from the occult,
Fantasy and sweetness are taken away,
And replaced with another adult.
Is there some way to hold back the hands of time,
So that innocents is never lost?
Children strive so hard to be better than their parents,
Then find too late, that it’s to their own cost.
Are parents the
best people to raise children?
I never met one who didn’t say,
"My parents didn’t know what they were doing.
I’m not raising my children that way."
The kids they’ve raised say the exact same thing,
When the next generation comes along.
Yet, rather than learning from their parents mistakes,
They still seem to get it all wrong.
So, the innocent
become the guilty,
As they leave their childhood behind.
No more teddy-bears picnics, or sweet party games,
No more anything of the kind.
The games are very different now.
Games where power and wealth are the prize,
When they stop seeing things as children,
And start looking through adult eyes.
Mothers, look now
at your children.
Keep them young for as long as you can.
All hopes gone with the ending of make-believe,
And they grown into woman, or man.
There’s no breaking the vicious cycle.
No putting on the brakes.
You can try wishing it was still yesterday,
For all the difference that makes.
But it’s too late for wishing, or a second chance,
I should know, I try by the hour.
But I still find my adult self competing,
For some of that glory, and power.
I didn’t like being a child at the time.
Now I want things that my age won’t allow.
If I could go back to being a child again,
I’d enjoy all my innocents now!
Through Children’s Eyes, is protected by copyright, and remains the property of the author, Amanda Jay Clark.