The Good Old Days Poem by Kevin Patrick

The Good Old Days



In the good old days we still had T.B.
Homegrown Polio and door to door Syphilis
Childbirth was pure, without any anesthesia
And women could die in the most painful way imaginable
Children weren't corrupted by the vices of T.V.
They just went to the prisons to watch public executions
Since Hanging was a good sport to make the guilty suffer
And you could buy a bag of peanuts for less than a dollar
Sex offenders everywhere virtually none existent
We just whispered it in gossip and called it family secrets
Living in denial was considered a test of character
There was no such thing as choice and still everyone was free
Children knew their place and discipline was thorough
The belt did the talking and the ruler bent your bottom
Sons inherited their father's chores and girls their mothers
If you called yourself an individual you were being heretical
Everyone was happy and on the side of being good
There were no such things as minorities as they were kept in the hood
All the blacks lived on one side and the whites were the same
We didn't have a million diseases invented by psychiatrist
Instead anyone who was mad had their brains electrocuted
Shock; zapped pocket and prodded by doctors who knew what was best
And if you made complaints they kept you in a padded room
The authorities could be trusted to do what was good and proper
There were no such things as cameras to show their blind corruption
Religion for the masses was the only important social network
And if you didn't fit within it you could be mobbed with dislikes
Except the dislikes were not thumbs down just pitchforks and guns
Everyone was skinny so they had time to make a run
Mass consumerism didn't destroy the public conscience
People didn't have gadgets to be greedy about
The evils of gasoline did not pollute the atmosphere
And in the winter people starved if they didn't have provisions
There were no Starbucks, or big macs, or Disney Sweatshops
Just eighteen hour work days and trip to heaven at forty
And the greatest thing about the good old days
The milkman was always fresh

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The golden age is better left gone
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