To The Boomers Complete



Grew up in the sixties.

Getting a taste of your own medicine now.

I know it was hard to find your parent’s wisdom.

I know that you went astray

Licking the lamp poles like Ralphy.


Frankly, I would laud your generation

If I hadn’t spent so much time with the Silent Generation

And the Greatest Generation.

Your rampant belief about conspiracy theories

Vietnam, and the host of other things you believe…

You’re pretty concerned about Sasquatch

Pretty ingrained in your political party.

Do you understand why

Generation Z is disenfranchised with you?

I will call them the Callow Generation.

It’s because you ingrained yourself

In your time period.

Sufficient unto itself was Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin.

Pink Floyd was your wisdom.

The Wall and the Beetles.

Good poetry… I have to admit.

There’s nothing wrong with it…

But you all were just another brick in the wall.


Generation Z, the Callow Generation,

Sit on their computers,

Doting on themselves.

They call you “Boomer”.

They wouldn’t have called my Grand Mother

“Boomer.” She would have smacked them.

Her mother, who I knew and was acquainted with,

Would have tanned them.


There is no respect.

I say this with respect.

I knew the Silent Generation and the Greatest Generation.

I knew, and still do know, them.

The Callow generation cannot know them.

They cannot understand them

Because you did not carry on their legacy.

You… Boomers… did not allow these generations

To be remembered.

You made them cold.

You made them ruthless.

However, you all will eat well.

The Callow Generation

Will possibly never eat.

They will possibly be coddled.

Never have tasted what freedom is.

Already, they rebel against freedom.

They rebel against it.

Understand their rebellion.


Freedom is not drugs and rock and roll.


However, I don’t flatter you.

I know harsh truths aren’t popular.

It might be that you are half my audience.

I am glad you are.

But, because I love you,

I must tell you the truth.


The Callow Generation

The Millennial Generation,


We’ve all inherited a problem from you.

You abandoned God—

The God of the Universe.

The rampant departure has spread

Through sixty years.

Hedonism replaced Christianity.

In that, it made it much harder to be a hedonist,

Wouldn’t you say?


I don’t see pleasures getting more abundant.

Your parents probably had lots of sex.

It’s why they would have five to ten kids on average.

If you’d ever seen an Antique, it is better quality

Than what we buy today.

What is thirty years old

Will probably still be around

Longer than what is two years old.

It’s not because they were,

In any way,

Special. It was a blessing.

Power is in the Cross.


The heaviness of an antique,

When modern things use the same woods,

Their elaborate designs.

Nothing is so ugly as the utilitarian design

Of modern furniture.

Utilitarian means “Pleasure oriented.”

I don’t see much pleasure in it.

Not much at all, in pumping out

Uniform products.


There must be blessing—

No, there must be skill and craft

And blessing.

Those old fuddiduddies had something

With them. They had love.

Their discipline was a part of that love.

Their arrangement of cutlery,

Their fuss about carpets,

Their disinterest in science, math, philosophy, grammar.

See… we have just as much philosophy, math, grammar and science today.

We are no better for it.


I tout the power of the poem.

But, there is nothing in a poem

If there is not a blessing to the crafting of it.

Talent means nothing.

It does not save you, either.


I can cook five star dishes.

I can write a poem in any diction.

I can play the piano, sing and keep a beat with no metronome.

I know what a Caesura is.

I have built a Universe of Discourse as rich as Tolkien’s.

I worked my 13,000 hours.

I saved a lot of lives.

I can even ride my bike with no handlebars.

The previous is my generation, excuse me

For using it.


It all means nothing.

Compared to those people,

Who the most simple lived off of nothing;

Rather, they thrived off of it.

They ate better than we do.

They slept better than we do.

They made love better than we do.

They worked better than we do.


All my talents cannot save me.

They cannot give me an ounce of their good.


Boomers, I place the blame solely on you.

You lost God, and God is the ultimate Hedonist.

He built laws so we could flourish.

But, even those laws mean nothing.

Islam has those same laws.

The Living God also brings rain.

And we need Him right now.


For those of you who nod your head in agreement

I call you prophets.

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