Counting the Mad
This one was put in a jacket,
This one was sent home,
This one was given bread and meat
But would eat none,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one looked at the window
As though it were a wall,
This one saw things that were not there,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one thought himself a bird,
This one a dog,
And this one thought himself a man,
An ordinary man,
And cried and cried No No No No
All day long.
Donald Justice in Understanding Poetry
That’s me, the one crying no, no, no all night long, crying no as our government does their best to convince me that their view, and only their view, of the world is "real," crying no as the mainsteam media create hysteria over bio-terrorism while simultaneously telling us that we are hysterical and should remain calm, crying no as the alternative media tell me that it’s really Americaâs own fault and that we should do nothing more to enrage our many enemies.
As I look at the television, the mediaâs window on our world, I feel exactly like I’m looking at a wall, unable to see anything in it that resembles reality. Other times I think I see things that are not there, things our government and the media would like us to believe but really arenât there, arenât true.
Between government spin, Taliban spin, and media spin, little wonder that I feel dazed and disoriented, having little idea what really is the truth.
And damn right I’m mad, mad, mad. I’m mad at the terrorists that caused such mindless destruction. I’m mad at our country for mindlessly dropping bombs that will undoubtedly save a few American soldiers lives, but only at the cost of many more innocent Afghan lives, a cost we may well have to repay with interest at a later time.
I’m especially mad that when people hear me saying no, no, no, they suggest that I’m unpatriotic, that I really don’t understand the danger our country is in, that, perhaps, I am crazy.
It’s hard for me, an ordinary man, to understand why the whole world isn’t crying no, no, no.