http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
This poem is taken from my general poetry blog archives for September 2014; archives are listed on the right hand side of the appropriate blog's page.
Most young people - whatever their race, culture, religion, gender or sexuality - are decent, honest, and hardworking, but there is also high unemployment among young people and that leaves some disaffected with society so they join gangs or become targets for radicalisation; violence becomes a way of life until something (or someone) happens that helps them back into mainstream life and a more positive, fulfilling sense of personal identity.
Many young people have to deal with various prejudices in their society while still in the process of growing up and having to come to terms with its harsher realities; where the latter affect them personally, they may well also suffer rejection or the fear of rejection by family and/or peers, as a consequence of which they turn to drugs and/or crime by way of concealing a deep-rooted inferiority complex, even shame, where neither are applicable but for the worse aspects of human nature prevalent in societies worldwide for centuries.
We hear much talk of 'progress' in this 21st century of ours, but invariably with reference to science and technology; sadly, human nature has not progressed anywhere near enough despite the efforts of the many good people in the world able to take others as they find them without rushing to artificial judgement as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions or dogma.
This poem is taken from my general poetry blog archives for September 2014; archives are listed on the right hand side of the appropriate blog's page.
Most young people - whatever their race, culture, religion, gender or sexuality - are decent, honest, and hardworking, but there is also high unemployment among young people and that leaves some disaffected with society so they join gangs or become targets for radicalisation; violence becomes a way of life until something (or someone) happens that helps them back into mainstream life and a more positive, fulfilling sense of personal identity.
Many young people have to deal with various prejudices in their society while still in the process of growing up and having to come to terms with its harsher realities; where the latter affect them personally, they may well also suffer rejection or the fear of rejection by family and/or peers, as a consequence of which they turn to drugs and/or crime by way of concealing a deep-rooted inferiority complex, even shame, where neither are applicable but for the worse aspects of human nature prevalent in societies worldwide for centuries.
We hear much talk of 'progress' in this 21st century of ours, but invariably with reference to science and technology; sadly, human nature has not progressed anywhere near enough despite the efforts of the many good people in the world able to take others as they find them without rushing to artificial judgement as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions or dogma.
While there is no excuse for violence, it is high time politicians, religious and community leaders among others (parents, too) looked more closely at its roots and took responsibility where society is failing so many of its young people. Some do, but rhetoric is not enough; actions really do speak louder than words.
This poem is a villanelle, written in 2014 so its content is nothing new; what is new are successive cutbacks in spending (here in the UK at least, since the financial crisis of 2008)) on such related national and local Government budgets as make provision for policing, extra curricular activities in schools, youth centres, apprenticeships, grants for professional and vocational training places etc. I rest my case...
DISAFFECTED YOUTH, WASTED LIVES
Got my hands on a knife, a gun,
spread the word,
didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin
Shouting at just about everyone,
no one heard;
got my hands on a knife, a gun
Needed to prove I was someone,
earn street cred;
didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin
At first it gave me a buzz, was fun,
but all that disappeared;
got my hands on a knife, a gun
A gangster movie set let me down,
(mustn't show I'm scared)
didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin
Macho mates weep to see my crown
dripping blood ...
Got my hands on a knife, a gun,
didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
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