>Closing Schools, Cutting Education—-


I rarely make political posts on the Questioning Way Blog, and I rarely have guest writers. Today I’m doing both.  My young friend, Ambrosia, is a 20 year old college student who is livid about the fact that many in this country have lately become intent on targeting education for budget cuts.  Ambrosia and I are both astounded that Federal and local governments in the U.S. appear prepared to further impair an educational system that is already a flaming piece of shit. (as we all are quite aware)  Starve the young a decent chance at education to save a few bucks?  What kind of reasoning is that? Anyone who wouldn’t be wiling to pay a few more taxes in order to give the young a decent education ought to wake up and fly right.  We all should be ashamed.  I’m sure you all will find Ambrosia’s essay to be written from the heart.  –DD

I just found out today, that my favorite elementary school is being closed down, due to budget cuts. This made me furious, and sad. We keep cutting the education budget, like there’s still a chance that ruining it will save us. The education budget can’t be cut any longer, what we need to do is cut the budget for other things. One thing that would help everyone, is cutting the funding on military purposes. Cut down the spending on the pentagon. If we just protested harder we could get the government under our control. We the citizens are supposed to be the government, not just a select few. To my dismay it’s been quite obliviously been pointed out to me, that people don’t want or care to do anything against this injustice. They think any sort of fight is useless, because the government is going to do anything they please. No, it’s because we the citizens don’t fight enough, that our government is taking control. We are letting this big bad government intimidate us, thus they continue to bully. Some people don’t want to fight, because they think the government’s half assed protection is worth losing liberty. “A society that will give up a little liberty for a little security, deserves neither and will lose both,” Benjamin Franklin. This is what is happening, and this is what’s true. No one fighting for our rights, is putting us in a headlock. We are making ourselves suffer, and making future generations suffer. We need to not be so afraid of having our voices heard.  Go protest. Protest the cutting of the educational budget, and start demanding a cutting in the pentagon expenses. Make a change, we need a revolution, and we need it now. —Ambrosia Cunningham

>No matter how bad you have it—-


 Yesterday, I was talking to my friend Tee.  I said, “Today’s a bitch.  One car blew a tire and the other one overheated.”  She said, “Hey, just be glad you’ve got two cars.  Some people don’t have any.”  Wise woman, Tee. 

No matter how bad you think you’ve got it, there is always someone else who thinks you’re lucky to have it as good as you do.

>Don’t Call Me Collect—


The next two poems go together and are written about a subject we all think about from time to time. “Don’t Call me Collect” was actually written in the late 90’s, “Route 27,” about ten years later. There are a couple things about the subject of religion and God that you can be sure of. First, the more certain you are that you have answers, the more likely it is that you don’t, and second, even if you are an atheist or agnostic, if there is a God, you’d definitely like to meet him/her even if were just to bitch at them for awhile 🙂  After you write something like “Route 27” people ask you if you believe in God.  Well, to be honest, I’ve never really figured the God thing out completely, but I’m pretty sure that if there is a God, finding them has more to do with the questions we each ask than the answers any one of us has ever found. 

Don’t call me collect –God

Perhaps on some golden throne
alive in the sky, you watch over each of us
–rain warm love, bathing one by one
man and sparrow with most tender care

Or, like a child at play
did you make the clock your grand experiment?
then, called to dinner, you plan to be back at eight
wondering if we’ll still be tocking

Are you a big ashen bearded daddy?
with all the answers up there
will you spank us forever if we don’t believe?

Maybe you’re a cosmic hippie
you say “Hey don’t you remember?
ten thousand years ago
we all stood at Salisbury in ecstasy”
Then, with hand to forehead you say
“Or maybe it was nineteen seventy-one
you know, all that acid still gets to me”

Are you a wrinkled old man?
stuttering, the very edge of senility
you wait at the gate, white picket complacency
We come home for a hug and obligatory visit
the younger playing Grandfather for a free dime

Perhaps you are a crone, ancient and wise
living in rock, road, brook, and tree
You made a hard, wondrous, magical land
where stumbling, we acolytes slowly learn of beauty

With fire on your finger tips
maybe you throw lightning bolts
make floods, cause the sky to darken
Perhaps you’ll let five thousand faithful in
“All the rest be damned!” you say as the earth quakes

Perhaps one time, some time, ever time
we’ll be sitting in the park, you and I
Muhammad, Gautama and Einstein play dice across the way
cool green grass, white daisies, blue sky, shade trees
I say, “You know, I wondered always if you were a figment”
You say, “Don’t we all, my friend, begin and end in fantasy?”

Dewey Dirks Copyright 2010