House of Eratosthenes

Check out the poem below, which has three of the most important attributes that make poems what they all should be. It rhymes, and rhymes well; it possesses commentary that remains relevant over long periods of time in a changing society; and the author is unknown.

This has to do with a lot more than just a woman raising her kid. It helps to explain why, where liberal policies are ratified and bureaucracies are created hand-over-fist to protect the “little people,” the little people end up living unhappy, meaningless lives, and meander from cradle to grave confined to their roles as little people. It also explains why the happiest, healthiest, and most productive among us, tend to be religious and why atheists tend to walk around with that GQ-Magazine-Cover type of frown all the time, not really getting an awful lot accomplished from one year to the next. Cooperation and respect for others, will set you free. Litanies of endless complaints, and entirely manufactured rights, will shackle you to the floor.

DON’T MESS WITH MOM
(writer unknown)

My son came home from school one day,
With a smirk upon his face.
He decided he was smart enough,
To put me in my place.

Guess what I learned in Civics II
That’s taught by Mr. Wright?
It’s all about the laws today,
The “Children’s Bill of Rights.”

It says I need not clean my room,
Don’t have to cut my hair..
No one can tell me what to think,
Or speak, or what to wear.

I have freedom from religion,
And regardless of what you say,
I don’t have to bow my head,
And I sure don’t have to pray.

I can wear earrings if I want,
And pierce my tongue and nose.
I can read and watch what I like,
And get tattoos from head to toes..

And if you ever spank me,
I’ll charge you with a crime.
I’ll back up all my charges,
With the marks on my behind.

Don’t you ever touch me,
My body is only for my use,
Not for hugs and kisses,
That’s just more child abuse

Don’t preach about my morals,
Like your mama did to you,
That’s nothing more than mind control,
And that’s illegal too!

Mom, I have these children’s rights,
So you can’t influence me,
Or I’ll call the Children’s Services Division,
Better known as C.S.D.

Of course my first instinct was
To toss him out the door.
But the chance to teach him a lesson
Made me think a little more.

I mulled it over carefully,
I couldn’t let this go.
A smile crept upon my face,
He’s messing with a pro.

The next day, I took him shopping
At the local Good Will Store.
I told him, “pick out all you want,
There’s shirts and pants galore.”

I’ve called and checked with C.S.D.
Who said they didn’t care
If I bought you K-Mart shoes
Instead of those Nike Airs.

And I’ve cancelled that appointment
To take your driver’s test.
The C.S.D. is unconcerned
So I’ll decide what’s best.

I said, “No Time to stop and eat,
Or pick up stuff to munch.
And tomorrow you start to learn
To make your own sack lunch.”

Just save the raging appetite,
And wait till dinner time.
We’re having liver and onions,
A favorite dish of mine.

He asked, “Can I please rent a movie
To watch on VCR?”
“Sorry, but I sold your TV,
To put new tires on my car. ”

I also rented out your room,
You’ll take the couch instead.
All the C.S.D. requires is
A roof over your head.

Your clothing won’t be trendy now,
And I’ll choose what we eat.
That allowance that you used to get,
Will buy me something neat.

I’m selling off your jet ski,
Dirt-Bike and roller blades.
Check out the Parent Bill of Rights,
It’s in effect today!

Hey, hot shot, are you crying?
And why are you on your knees?
Are you asking God to help you out,
Instead of C.S.D?

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Don’t Mess With MomSaturday, August 27th, 2005

Don’t Mess With Mom
Saturday, August 27th, 2005