Post by larien on Oct 19, 2005 21:19:25 GMT -5
A/N -- This was written as an English paper with the vague idea that I should be showing that we don't live the American Dream. I got a little carried away, and a rant against society was the result. I'm feeling that I should put a disclaimer though so . . . .
Disclaimer -- Lyrics from the song "Pour les enfants du monde entier" don't belong to me. They are Yves Duteil's, and I in no way benefit from them . . . unless my *brilliant* use of quotes gets me a good grade on this.
“For the children of the world,
Those who have nothing left to hope for,
I would like to pray
To the masters of the planet.”
Life. Liberty. The pursuit of Happiness. We, the American people, have flown these as our colors as we charge into our great battle to “free” the rest of the world. In doing this, we have lost sight of the real purpose behind our forefathers’ words. We split from Great Britain with the vision that our children would have a brighter future. They were to be given opportunities, equality. Instead, they have been divided into groups; the wealthy have been sent to special, elite schools and homes, while the poor have ben left to fend for themselves. We have scrambled to save other countries while neglecting our own future. America is not the utopia we imagine it to be, but rather an experiment corrupted by our society’s ego.
“I saw children go off
Smiling and lighthearted
Towards the death and the paradise
The adults had promised them.”
Beneath their brights facades, with their gaudy cars, flashing signs, and expensive stores, our cities are death traps, holes of poverty comparable to those of the third-world countries we claim to “save.” Each day, children are shoved out into the streets having been told that they if they worked hard enough, they would do well. Through hard work alone, they will rise up through the throngs of the impoverished, into the light that surrounds the wealthy. It is not our fault if they have teachers who care nothing for them, if they are surrounded by corruption and violence. These are the obstacles they must somehow scramble over before they become one of the chosen few, destined for fame, fortune, and glory. But still, the richer suburbs manage to somehow scrape together the extra money for new pools, better teachers, and the “smartest” students. This is our equality. The more money you have, the more equal you are.
“Fear, hatred, and violence
Put the torch to their childhood.
Their paths bristle
With misery and barbed wire.”
Our newspapers are more terrible than the horror movies our citizens revel in. “Gothika” and “The Ring” could never hope to compete with the torture we inflict upon each other. High school shootings, stabbings for drugs, and drunk drivers are all more real and deadly than the imaginary tales we use to send thrills of fear down our spines. It is in this world that our futures are living, in this environment that we expect them to thrive. And if they fall to the same gruesome level as ourselves, we are appalled. Barriers are constructed, shutting them off from the world. In prisons, there can be found teens sentenced to life without parole. Were they ever let out, after all, they might well taint their peers. This is our freedom. To imitate the system is to be locked in a grey-walled prison.
“For each child who disappears,
The universe crosses out
A hope for the future
That could belong to us.”
Each child shut away behind the doors of prisons, each child killed too soon by a bullet or a knife, each child who spends his youth weeping for lost loved ones, each child who spends her days struggling to keep her head above the waves of hate that threaten to drown us all is one more life lost before it began. How are we to know what they would have become had they survived? Who are we to judge which of these children will be given a chance to bloom, and which will be nipped in the bud? The blood of hundreds of peacemakers, artists, musicians, novelists, teachers and leaders is one our hands. The thousands of devils our religions have created must chuckle delightedly when they see the vile practices we have woven into our society. These are the fruits of our hard work. Each step our children take toward our American utopia is a step closer to our own destruction.
“You can close up your borders,
Block your rivers and your harbors,
But the songs trave secretly by foot,
Hidden in closed hearts.”
Let us hide behind the white picket fences of our ideal, American homes. Let us pretend that there is no horror in our small, American world. Let us pretend that we all live the same, perfect American lives. Deaf to our ears are the cries of children, begging for a fair chance to rise up out of poverty. Some will grow up to inherit our bubbles of isolation, while the outcasts who did not work hard enough will be ground up by the machine of our society and spat out upon the street. This is our American dream. It is every man for himself, and he who doesn’t have enough luck is lazy and unworthy of our sympathy.
“In your drugged sleep
or if you sleep with open eyes,
Let blow for a moment,
The magic of your childish heart.”
If we stopped for a instant, perhaps we could salvage from the wreckage of our dreams enough to start over. If for a moment, we left our bubbles and listened to what our children cry out to us, perhaps we would be better equipped to convert the rest of the world to democracy. Then, we could fulfill the dreams our forefathers had. Then, we could live the American dream, and truly say that we were all equal and free.
“I haven’t a shadow of power
But I have a heart filled with hope.
And the songs sung today
Will become the hymns for all our lives.”
Was looking over this really quickly, and though I ought to point out that these aren't the original lyrics. In order to make them comprehensible for my teacher, I had to translate them from French, which is why they (a) don't always make a lot of sense, and (b) have no rhythm/rhyme whatsoever.
Disclaimer -- Lyrics from the song "Pour les enfants du monde entier" don't belong to me. They are Yves Duteil's, and I in no way benefit from them . . . unless my *brilliant* use of quotes gets me a good grade on this.
~*~*~*~*~
“For the children of the world,
Those who have nothing left to hope for,
I would like to pray
To the masters of the planet.”
Life. Liberty. The pursuit of Happiness. We, the American people, have flown these as our colors as we charge into our great battle to “free” the rest of the world. In doing this, we have lost sight of the real purpose behind our forefathers’ words. We split from Great Britain with the vision that our children would have a brighter future. They were to be given opportunities, equality. Instead, they have been divided into groups; the wealthy have been sent to special, elite schools and homes, while the poor have ben left to fend for themselves. We have scrambled to save other countries while neglecting our own future. America is not the utopia we imagine it to be, but rather an experiment corrupted by our society’s ego.
“I saw children go off
Smiling and lighthearted
Towards the death and the paradise
The adults had promised them.”
Beneath their brights facades, with their gaudy cars, flashing signs, and expensive stores, our cities are death traps, holes of poverty comparable to those of the third-world countries we claim to “save.” Each day, children are shoved out into the streets having been told that they if they worked hard enough, they would do well. Through hard work alone, they will rise up through the throngs of the impoverished, into the light that surrounds the wealthy. It is not our fault if they have teachers who care nothing for them, if they are surrounded by corruption and violence. These are the obstacles they must somehow scramble over before they become one of the chosen few, destined for fame, fortune, and glory. But still, the richer suburbs manage to somehow scrape together the extra money for new pools, better teachers, and the “smartest” students. This is our equality. The more money you have, the more equal you are.
“Fear, hatred, and violence
Put the torch to their childhood.
Their paths bristle
With misery and barbed wire.”
Our newspapers are more terrible than the horror movies our citizens revel in. “Gothika” and “The Ring” could never hope to compete with the torture we inflict upon each other. High school shootings, stabbings for drugs, and drunk drivers are all more real and deadly than the imaginary tales we use to send thrills of fear down our spines. It is in this world that our futures are living, in this environment that we expect them to thrive. And if they fall to the same gruesome level as ourselves, we are appalled. Barriers are constructed, shutting them off from the world. In prisons, there can be found teens sentenced to life without parole. Were they ever let out, after all, they might well taint their peers. This is our freedom. To imitate the system is to be locked in a grey-walled prison.
“For each child who disappears,
The universe crosses out
A hope for the future
That could belong to us.”
Each child shut away behind the doors of prisons, each child killed too soon by a bullet or a knife, each child who spends his youth weeping for lost loved ones, each child who spends her days struggling to keep her head above the waves of hate that threaten to drown us all is one more life lost before it began. How are we to know what they would have become had they survived? Who are we to judge which of these children will be given a chance to bloom, and which will be nipped in the bud? The blood of hundreds of peacemakers, artists, musicians, novelists, teachers and leaders is one our hands. The thousands of devils our religions have created must chuckle delightedly when they see the vile practices we have woven into our society. These are the fruits of our hard work. Each step our children take toward our American utopia is a step closer to our own destruction.
“You can close up your borders,
Block your rivers and your harbors,
But the songs trave secretly by foot,
Hidden in closed hearts.”
Let us hide behind the white picket fences of our ideal, American homes. Let us pretend that there is no horror in our small, American world. Let us pretend that we all live the same, perfect American lives. Deaf to our ears are the cries of children, begging for a fair chance to rise up out of poverty. Some will grow up to inherit our bubbles of isolation, while the outcasts who did not work hard enough will be ground up by the machine of our society and spat out upon the street. This is our American dream. It is every man for himself, and he who doesn’t have enough luck is lazy and unworthy of our sympathy.
“In your drugged sleep
or if you sleep with open eyes,
Let blow for a moment,
The magic of your childish heart.”
If we stopped for a instant, perhaps we could salvage from the wreckage of our dreams enough to start over. If for a moment, we left our bubbles and listened to what our children cry out to us, perhaps we would be better equipped to convert the rest of the world to democracy. Then, we could fulfill the dreams our forefathers had. Then, we could live the American dream, and truly say that we were all equal and free.
“I haven’t a shadow of power
But I have a heart filled with hope.
And the songs sung today
Will become the hymns for all our lives.”
~*~*~*~*~
Was looking over this really quickly, and though I ought to point out that these aren't the original lyrics. In order to make them comprehensible for my teacher, I had to translate them from French, which is why they (a) don't always make a lot of sense, and (b) have no rhythm/rhyme whatsoever.