Standing on the shoulders of giants,
Is what my father said,
Be dutifully, respectful and pliant,
Is what my father meant.
Bow and scrape to the merciful forebearer,
Who saw to our situation,
For what on earth could be fairer,
Than a childhood owed, to the parent generation.
Respect your elders, they scream,
While clutching their financed diplomas,
We gave you life, they mean,
As if shed in honey suckle aromas.
What can we be, if we stay,
A life beholden to ancestors,
What can we speak, if we say,
Words offensive to our investors.
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Comments1
Is it ironic that someone who writes poetry can't find the words to express their appreciation of this? Haha. Anyway, I loved this this poem, an excellent write!
Thank you very much!
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