Let the Kids Be Kids

June 19, 2011
By Jlee777Numa BRONZE, Dacula, Georgia
Jlee777Numa BRONZE, Dacula, Georgia
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Art is what you can get away with.
Andy Warhol

Oh yes, the beautiful sounds and vibes of a human sound wave dispelling its sorrows in another language I don’t understand. Does it bother me that opera is what psychologically messed up cannibals listen to? Yes, but what I am I to do. Nothing free’s my stress more. I remember when I was little my mother would complain of my music taste being too depressing. She seemed concerned of my emotional wellbeing. I was fine; it just made me feel better that I wasn’t the only sad person out there. It was perfect for every emotional situation I faced. When I was sad, it was sad with me. When I was happy, it kept me happy knowing it was unhappier than me. I hear someone yelling “SELFISH!” at me. When I was angry, it calmed my anger into sadness, which led to my first point. Last my favorite, when I was optimistic, it kept me level headed. “I wanna be the best most special or god’s creations”, BAM! Here comes the sad music as if it told me “Ya right, that’ll happen” sarcastically. Sometimes I find my happiness childish and in need of some kicking. I’m sorry I don’t kick children. What I meant to say was, “and in need of some control”. Even when I was a child, I saw being unhappy as an adult thing. It may be even the secret between the young and the old. Realizing my greatest fear of being stupid, yes dumb fear I know, could be overcome. All I had to do was just be unhappy. I mean why else would they say shrewd remarks like “you’re too young, you wouldn’t understand”. Oh I understand how to be unhappy. I understand dreams aren’t met without hard work. Dreams may not be met at all. Yes this I know. My biggest fear in front of me, youth, my foolish stupidity, oh how you are my enemy.

Poor Tommy, “I want to be a scuba diver” he said.

Little he did know, that by mentioning it would lower his chances.

Adults would always come up with there uplifting responses,

Encouraging the kids to dream.

“Let kids be kids”, they would say.

Translation “let them be stupid just a little longer,”

Before they grow up and realize that no one’s dreams come true.

Tommy might as well become a scuba diver now and drown in the water.

Little Tommy did know of his true depressing fate in his young adult life.

Parents know it Tommy can’t escape it.

Tommy makes mistakes,

Tommy doesn’t know any better

Tommy thinks his parents are perfect

Tommy thinks everything is perfect

Tommy, Jesus loves you

Tommy, I love you

Tommy is only seven years old

Tommy never saw the light of day coming

Poor, Thomas

Parents know, Tommy will know too

But Tommy is a kid now

Let kids be kids

Let them enjoy their uncorrupted innocence now

They won’t have any to spare later

It’ll happen like it happened to them.

They know their kids will grow up and do as they did;

Make foolish mistakes,

Be used,

Decide to make a difference,

Change their minds,

Screw up the privilege of independence,

Find a falsehood of the word fun,

Be used again,

Fail at their knees and their own high expectations,

Expect that they’ll call back after their first fake Italian dinner

Make notes to themselves that not everyone calls back

Have fingers pointed at them while walking down the streets of humanity with their new shiny white scream clothes that scream” love me”!,

Drift into unexplored waters where metaphorical monsters lie and rarely defeated,

Be stabbed in the back by people they thought were trustworthy,

Do anything to be noticed by something they think leads to happiness in the dumb-happy moment,

Find out the hard way that temporary happiness is not everlasting,

Screw tyrants with money that they think can buy them toys,

Learn new mathematical equations, boys plus girls equals accidents.

Unwind with too many glasses of bourbon in the dark of midnight,

Breathe ugly words and curses to enemies that will haunt them till they die,

Develop unhealthy habits that will be their prophesied cause of death

Rub against the colorful peacocks and maybe even take one home at night,

Gasp in awe at the so-called influential American blooded speakers who teach different is good,

Discover the idea of philanthropy, rip their hearts out and give it to someone,

Enlarge their prospects in any form confused by the grand palaces of the aggrandized,

Never return the phone calls not because of rebellion but of subconscious guilt,

Blend in crowds to make their opinions look bigger and smarter than they are,

Disguise their acts as goods becoming immigrant hypos who crit.

Burn their religious books and bibles when they discover that there really is no man on the moon,

Get their first paycheck at a mediocre minimum wage job,

Remember their childhoods and how they taught them to hide their feelings because they are pure weakness,

Wonder why it is dangerous to run with scissors for just a split second,

Try running with scissors and end up stabbing an entire cult of their fellow youth,

Paint pretty pictures with their words convincing themselves each morning that they truly are beautiful,

Become addicted to human interaction and dine on freaked up hipsters they call friends,

Go through with withdrawals when they go back to their apartments or dorms and find a new addiction,

Begin to use words like stigma to describe their futures

Yell obscenities at politicians as they hold their signs with words they can’t spell,

Dance their bad days away after hours while holding a glass of stress relief,

Meet new kinds of people who reinvent themselves as animals,

Chuckling at suckers with broken bones that look like them,

Try new foods like spinach dopamine, pot roast, cheese dicks, and coke cola

Cleanse themselves with in the hospital waiting rooms after overdosing on the newest drug called reality,

Give themselves to strangers and don’t even know.
Hear their authorities’ voice while driving recklessly in their rip off cars

Make music to the sounds of spewing guts into toilets shipped from Vegas,

Watch and laugh at comedies about themselves. Then cut themselves when it’s done,

Get mud on their white t-shirts and can’t afford to bleach it

Murder what is Sunday school and burn their hypocritical church clothes never to flinch a muscle

Question philosophical post modernism while taking imaginary showers,

Scream, “ You are not alone”! Near the modern churches of science,

Begin translating their thoughts into art and their expressions into actions,

Teach dogs new tricks and return old ones,

Sing the indie songs of the underrated experimental bands during Kurt Cobain hours,

Name their newly found personalities feeding each one a social network,

Steal kisses from objects or whores with band-aids on their scars,

Spawn pee sized dwarves after eating a bad naked lunch,

Shock their neighbors who thought they were together

Be role models to the sheltered teens watching them through zoo glass windows

Carry guilt from anti suckling support groups who hand out pills and latex,

Tease the tyros, who smear their chances earlier than the average first try,

Not noticing their new definition of dirty, I mean tidy.

Brake mirrors when they see no reflection,

Realize that no one loves them not even for a second just to know what it feels like.

Think they live with ghosts when they are alone.

Dry up the pity tears and removing the tear ducts that make them,

Suck to get what they need instead of hard labor

Reveal old secrets and make new ones that never sleep

Hide their lollipops and gum drops in closets when daddy and mummy visit,

Posing for the world unknowingly as transparent models

Croak in public and find someone to bring down with them,

Fantasize, criticize or shi**ytise anything that moves or breathes

Kick themselves in the Assets after going over their planned calorie count,

Wine about winers who wine about winos,

Cut out their organs that have arrogant no meaning,
Dissect a quiet mammal and swear that it moved

Smell victory and gag,

Build temples without any directions

Fold their laundry only once before realize it’s like home,

Experience prison bars with no bail

Dub a musician as their Jesus but refuse to crucify him.

Not defending themselves when accused of being selfish and cockeye,
Do to their sisters what they have done unto themselves,

Pickpocket the robin hoods claiming to have a better cause for donation,

Slip through the cracks learning from Internet forums instead of reading books,

Sun soak the riches of vitamin BS because they feel to uncomfortable in their own skin

Quote film, novels, and popism as if it were there bible.

B**** to their roommates deciding who should grow up first

Wipe their sweat from burned fat bodies in front of ice-cold eyes

Rise up their inner rebels into iconoclasts but traditions don’t last anyways.

Create their own religions and preach to aliens using languages they say they learned in high school.

Sip coffee every morning after their hang over woke up and didn’t know where it was.

Claim to have found the devil and named him Jeffery

Hang their dreams in sorrow while holding a gun to their head,

Attempt to dig their selves out from a pit they’ve think they just fell in.

Piss on the carpet when they couldn’t hold their sh*t any longer,

Plead to insanity, saying, “I didn’t commit the crime, Jeffery did it. “

Cleanse themselves with in the hospital waiting rooms after overdosing on the newest drug called reality,

Conduct their first self-interventions half naked and bruised,

Be laughed at when they give speeches to others how successful their lives will turn out while standing naked at the podium,

Cry to themselves and then to their parents when it’s over,

Understand that it never ends,

It has only just begun

So let the kids be kids.

While they still can.

The author's comments:
This poem was inspired by viewing the removal of innocence I see in my fellow peers once they go to college. This statements explains that parents try to hold onto what innocence their kids have left because they know that they one day will loose it.

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