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Who are the Guards?

Who are the Guards?

Who are the Guards?

Guards help small children
cross a busy street –
Guards tell us to hush
in front of a pizza shop
during a noon-hour dance –
Guards monitor the corridor
at school – send girls home
if they roll a skirt too high,
paint lips red, swear under
your breath, toss a rock at
a stop sign or walk too close
to the opposite sex –

We were a generation without
sense or sensibility –
Our heads empty – so some
smoked weed – left home,
slept naked under a full
moon – without a guard –

We felt freedom and could
run, be – do – say – sing
or spit – swear – dance,
until the boy next door was
sent home in a casket.

The last time we spoke
he was flying by on his
Harley – he wanted to be one
of those hell’s angels – he
got tough – without a guard
as he protested the war.
We all saw death, bodies
rolled off of platforms –
Huge planes owned by our
Government – we
protested war – in streets,
in Washington DC – but bodies
multiplied. . .

Men and women rolled in front
of the White House without
limbs – eyes blinded by fire –
and gangs multiplied. . .

Protesters took to streets
using graffiti
“Kill the Pig – Kill the Pig,
as our establishment became
rich and richer –

We found peace, free love,
loving each other –
Children were still eating pizza
during lunch hour– they loved
everyone except the guard.

Forty years have gone – those
who took to the streets ended
up the doers, performers; lawyers,
doctors – Congressmen or women,
mothers and fathers, aunts or uncles –
and teachers hiding –
behind metal detectors at
school –  schools in cities or suburbs.  

You see, once we yelled for freedom
and peace – we downed the pigs –
These roads we traveled,
have once again
twisted into foreign knots –

We do not know
who the guards
are, any more.

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