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Array
(
[sid] => 81478
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Charity Begins
[time] => 2005-01-25 19:43:10
[hometext] => An answer to the anti-American poetry at another site at which I post.
[bodytext] => I wander through a forest That does not contain trees. I wonder that our present Contains inconsistencies. The forest blocks my vision And blinds me to the sight, Of all the world’s demands To set the wrong to right. “Is it my place?” I ask, “to fix all of its woes? Or just sit back and idly watch What comes, and then what goes.” We teach to do our best And make ourselves a place. We learn and work and save We live a lifelong race. We give to those who need; A helping hand we spare. Knowing when we need a hand, It probably is not there. We send supplies and money To those whom we know not. It is not enough, they say For we want what you’ve got. Charity has, it seems, become A business, like all else. “Give us your funds, and we’ll be sure They get where needed most. But first, I’m sure you’ll understand I have expenses, too. So I will just deduct a wage, And send the rest on through. Oh, wait, I just remembered The office goods do cost. The paper, stamps and envelopes Without which we’d be lost. Now on to where it’s needed I won’t keep anymore.” The next guy also has his claims So, less gets to the poor. So, finally my dollar I donated back here, Is now whittled down until Change is all that appears. At last, I say, the help arrives The meds and clothes and food. Only to be confiscated, By soldiers charged with good. The people whom I tried to help Starve and die in pain Mothers drop their babies’ bodies Never to rise again So, I sit here in satisfaction Of all the good I’ve tried. And yet the accusation’s thrown, You’re niggardly inside. So, what is the point in sending What I have over there? Most will not reach it’s goal It’s better off right here. For I was taught by Mom and church Charity begins at home And that is where my money stays It has no need to roam. There are too many here next door Who need a helping hand. And I know that my dollar giv’n Will reach, intact, its goal ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 1/19/2005 [comments] => 5 [counter] => 195 [topic] => 6 [informant] => Rous [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
|
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