On
Schools and Fools /
As Satan Sings
There is no Satan, setting snares,
Or “down below, in hell”.
That Satan is among us, in
Our hearts, as we can tell,
Exploiting all our frailties
With stories he can sell.
******
We humans, we are
clever! We
Aspire to be as gods.
And at my age, we celebrate
At beating, still, the odds,
As beatings harsh are handed out—
And often still with rods.
In churches, mosques and mandirs, humans 1
Of substance or of spirit, while
They dream of angels’ wings—
As Mammon smiles at balance sheets
And Satan softly sings—
And often not so quietly,
As planes and cannons roar
And beings burn and bombs explode,
With science turned to whore—
And we can hear then Satan's song
And know that there’ll be more.
******
It would be wrong to just pretend
There was once a golden age,
When virtue ruled us humans, who
Were then as kind and sage
As Buddhas. This was never so.
We had vice at every stage—
And some were strong and others weak.
The stronger ruled the others—
Even in the places where
We tended fathers, mothers
When these were old or ailing and
Hailed all as “sisters, brothers”.
So there was liberation too
When villages were left
For cities, where we learned the truths
Of which we’d been bereft.
In cities, cultures interact—
And schooling too has heft.
******
We go to school and there we learn
To read and write and add—
And these are surely needed for
The modern lass or lad,
But who will guide, within the home,
Their sense of good and bad?
It’s there within us, yet in some
Who’ve learned of “yours and mine”
And daily act upon that sense,
It slow to rise and shine.
They only think about themselves
And feel that this is fine.
We learn, from watching others, more
Then hearing what they say.
If parents both are working or
Are absent through the day,
Then who will children learn from, in
The matters crucial, pray?
******
The teacher comes, the teacher goes.
The period starts and ends—
The term or school-year too, in time,
And yet, the seer pretends
That this is all that children need—
To learn—and this, defends.
In modern times, alas, we see
That content too, is slighted.
“It’s process! That is all that counts.”
Has been the cry, benighted.
Yet content too must still be crammed
At a pace that leaves us blighted.
There is a place, of course, for school—
In Ranchi as in Rome—
As there’s a place for the Internet
That has shoved aside the tome.
But tell me, truly, can a school
Replace, in whole, a home?
******
“It takes a village”, it was said,
“To educate a child.”
In Africa—and everywhere—
This wisdom, deep yet mild,
Was practiced—yet, in later times,
It came to be reviled.
And why? Because the villages
Were emptied—and the towns
Were crowded full—and townsfolk saw
The villagers as clowns.
And soon enough, the parents yielded
Offspring to the crowns.
Crowns? The ones of empires—those
With thrones and then with banks.
So children line up now, at schools,
As soldiers do—and tanks—
In peace—that never lasts for long—
And war—with all our thanks!
******
For soldiers fight and die, so we
Can go to school and learn
Those useful things, so factories
And offices can turn
Out all the stuff and services—
As fields and forests burn.
But right and wrong? We hear of these
In speeches, not in schools.
They’re put to use by clever men—
And women—used as tools—
To make us work—and buy—and pay
Our taxes—since we’re fools.
So parents slave to pay the bills
Or even to survive,
With hours long and lethal stress
That jointly can deprive
Them each of sleep and peace of mind.
So how can children thrive?
******
Fools? Perhaps I’ve overstepped—
Or overstated things.
Our words can take us far away,
As phrases take on wings.
So cleverness can lead us all
To hell, as Satan sings.
We should not have the schools dictate,
To children, right and wrong.
It’s back within the village calm,
And not the city’s throng,
That we should seek the quiet that
Can stop the Satan-song.
But there isn’t land enough that’s left
To farm, for all of us—
And agribusiness feeds us all
And frees us from the fuss
And labor of the fields, so we
Advance—as humans must!
******
“Salute! Salute the flag”, we’re told,
“And sing the anthem loud!”
Oh nation great, of thee I sing
And it’s of thee I’m proud!
The “nation” now competes with “gods”
And draws the biggest crowd.
The strongman grins and shakes his fist.
He jabs, with force, the air.
He’s now the hero of the crowd.
For rants, he has a flair.
A demon has been found! The blame
Is shifted. There’s the snare.
We fall for it, because we’re fools,
Forgetting right and wrong.
So “history” is handled well
To please, again, the throng.
No deeper, please! Nor wider!
Let the Satan sing his song.
******
There is no Satan, setting snares,
Or “down below, in hell”.
That Satan is among us, in
Our hearts, as we can tell,
Exploiting all our frailties
With stories he can sell.
2022 September 27th,
Tue.
Brooklyn, New York
Notes
1. mandir: Hindu temple
As Satan Sings
Or “down below, in hell”.
That Satan is among us, in
Our hearts, as we can tell,
Exploiting all our frailties
With stories he can sell.
Aspire to be as gods.
And at my age, we celebrate
At beating, still, the odds,
As beatings harsh are handed out—
And often still with rods.
Of substance or of spirit, while
They dream of angels’ wings—
As Mammon smiles at balance sheets
And Satan softly sings—
As planes and cannons roar
And beings burn and bombs explode,
With science turned to whore—
And we can hear then Satan's song
And know that there’ll be more.
There was once a golden age,
When virtue ruled us humans, who
Were then as kind and sage
As Buddhas. This was never so.
We had vice at every stage—
The stronger ruled the others—
Even in the places where
We tended fathers, mothers
When these were old or ailing and
Hailed all as “sisters, brothers”.
When villages were left
For cities, where we learned the truths
Of which we’d been bereft.
In cities, cultures interact—
And schooling too has heft.
To read and write and add—
And these are surely needed for
The modern lass or lad,
But who will guide, within the home,
Their sense of good and bad?
Who’ve learned of “yours and mine”
And daily act upon that sense,
It slow to rise and shine.
They only think about themselves
And feel that this is fine.
Then hearing what they say.
If parents both are working or
Are absent through the day,
Then who will children learn from, in
The matters crucial, pray?
The period starts and ends—
The term or school-year too, in time,
And yet, the seer pretends
That this is all that children need—
To learn—and this, defends.
That content too, is slighted.
“It’s process! That is all that counts.”
Has been the cry, benighted.
Yet content too must still be crammed
At a pace that leaves us blighted.
In Ranchi as in Rome—
As there’s a place for the Internet
That has shoved aside the tome.
But tell me, truly, can a school
Replace, in whole, a home?
“To educate a child.”
In Africa—and everywhere—
This wisdom, deep yet mild,
Was practiced—yet, in later times,
It came to be reviled.
Were emptied—and the towns
Were crowded full—and townsfolk saw
The villagers as clowns.
And soon enough, the parents yielded
Offspring to the crowns.
With thrones and then with banks.
So children line up now, at schools,
As soldiers do—and tanks—
In peace—that never lasts for long—
And war—with all our thanks!
Can go to school and learn
Those useful things, so factories
And offices can turn
Out all the stuff and services—
As fields and forests burn.
In speeches, not in schools.
They’re put to use by clever men—
And women—used as tools—
To make us work—and buy—and pay
Our taxes—since we’re fools.
Or even to survive,
With hours long and lethal stress
That jointly can deprive
Them each of sleep and peace of mind.
So how can children thrive?
Or overstated things.
Our words can take us far away,
As phrases take on wings.
So cleverness can lead us all
To hell, as Satan sings.
To children, right and wrong.
It’s back within the village calm,
And not the city’s throng,
That we should seek the quiet that
Can stop the Satan-song.
To farm, for all of us—
And agribusiness feeds us all
And frees us from the fuss
And labor of the fields, so we
Advance—as humans must!
“And sing the anthem loud!”
Oh nation great, of thee I sing
And it’s of thee I’m proud!
The “nation” now competes with “gods”
And draws the biggest crowd.
He jabs, with force, the air.
He’s now the hero of the crowd.
For rants, he has a flair.
A demon has been found! The blame
Is shifted. There’s the snare.
Forgetting right and wrong.
So “history” is handled well
To please, again, the throng.
No deeper, please! Nor wider!
Let the Satan sing his song.
Or “down below, in hell”.
That Satan is among us, in
Our hearts, as we can tell,
Exploiting all our frailties
With stories he can sell.
Brooklyn, New York
1. mandir: Hindu temple
