THE AMERICAN DREAM

I was doing a little spring/summer cleaning when I came across this poem I wrote in 1988 entitled it The American Dream.

Goodness gracious look at the city.
All around you more is the pity.
What goes on behind these empty faces?
What causes them to scurry to empty places?
So many people, in so much of a hurry.
What is the source of their endless worry?

In lofty offices they play mindless games,
And at home it's much the same.
At work he tells his boss not to worry.
Those unpleasant details are easy to bury.
Later that night he tells his wife,
All those late evenings are a business man's life.

On the other hand they may be part of the New Generation
Where all things are equal or so they imagine.
Now the woman stays out as late as the man
And the children, they get along as best they can.
If the kids end up with a confused value system
Well, that's tough cuz there's no one to listen.

Woe to the kid who dares to complain
Because the parents will be quick and harsh to explain
"For you, we're doing this for you, you ungrateful child.
Stop this silly behavior, your driving us wild."
So, the kid says, with equal frustration "Oh, what the hell.
I'll just get me a toot or a snort and all will be well."

So, it goes, and material things are ruthlessly gathered.
The family, if they've lost each other what does it matter?
After all, money and possessions are how you keep score.
And keeping up with the Jones' requires constantly more.
How many are judged by their human condition?
It's far more important to have the key to a Ferrari's ignition.

So, what's going on? Why do they worry?
And why do they seem to perpetually scurry?
Could it be that the eternal pursuit of worldly goods
Falls short of what their hearts tell them it should?
It's pretty amazing how they acquire such bountiful plenty
And end up so shallow and utterly empty.

©Kinsey Barnard October 19, 1988