PoetryIsArt

I got the puppy when I was only fiveI named him Gyp because my parents said he was sickand may not stay alive In the years to comeGyp not only survivedbut thrived He was a mix between a Basset Houndand a BeagleWith big floppy ears, a waddling walkand had more of a deep-throated bay or howlthan any bark I used to take him on long walksThe Beagle in him always made himwant to chase after rabbitsAlthough, the Basset Hound sidemade him rather slow Gyp didn’t seem to mind that he never caught any rabbitsHe would come waddling back to mewith his big flapping tongue dangling downA look of mischievous joy in his eyes Years went byGyp became my best paland would follow mewherever I would go One day my mother diedin a car accidentthree miles from our home I couldn’t talk to anyoneI could only crybut all that time Gypstayed by my side He seemed to sense that something was wrongGyp would lie beside meoccasionally lapping his big tongue acrossmy nose As I grew into pubertyGyp would no longer chaseafter the rabbits on our walksbut seemed peacefully contentto watch them scamper awayas they sensed him near One day when I was thirteenI was crossing the roadGyp toddled behind,again, a little slow I saw the car swerve toward himas I reached the sidewalkGyp wasn’t in the middle of the roadbut was well toward my sideHis poor little body lay mutilated by the side of the road The driver had gone out of the wayto hit himAnd my poor belovedGyp had died The kids in the carwere all in their early 20'sI heard one scream that’s 3 pointsanother said no just 2That dumb dogwas way too slow I saw only the face of the boywho had screamed 3 pointsIn a flash by beloved Gyp was deadand the car was way down the road This was the dayI fully realized the incredible cruelty of my fellow man Years later when I graduated from collegeI noticed an item in the paper about the new CEOof a local firm in our area The picture of the manwas an older version of that boywho had yelled 3 pointsthose many years ago Previously, I had even considered applyingto this local firmNow, I just wondered to myselfWas torturing and killing defenseless little animalsa steppingstone to becoming a CEO? I shook my headand thought:What a sad little world

I killed myself with all of my senses Now it doesn't matter what I believe I'm tired of a life of mindless pursuits for pointless possessions. I don't want to achieve the "American Dream" Money and power make us bitter and cruel Meanwhile, the people I love are being destroyed because they can't fit into the status quo mold Freedom of thought is seen as a disease and doctors dispense drugs to those who disagree We are treated like children who won't behave and sadly, we follow like lambs to the slaughter We gather up things that we don't even need just to throw them away with the greatest of ease Never quite sure what we are doing it for but something inside of us is telling us we need to buy more We sense it's all closing in The storms in our heads rushing toward an inevitable end Outside the madness and chaos have taken their toll Very few kind people are living and even less are now born We take endless prescriptions but never feel well Maybe we’re all just living in hell How did it ever get this bad? We say to ourselves while looking around Is this the fate that we all deserve? If humanity is the disease, then what's the cure? Our tomorrow must begin today A more enlightened species might now say