The American Dream - A Poem

THE AMERICAN DREAM 

by Brett Stewart

So, like many students in my class this week, I had to give a speech. My speech's prompt was essentially the impact of modernity and technology on the philosophical idea of the American Dream. Does modern technology and an interconnected world help or hurt reaching the American Dream? When thinking about answering the question, the following poem spewed onto my paper within minutes. I've posted it here for more to enjoy, and many of my classmates asked me to post it. I hope you enjoy it -



What to you is the American Dream? 
It's moved from the light into darkness, or so it may seem.
What fuels the endless pursuit?
Is it justified by coveting bounty and loot?

Has modernity assaulted the American race?
Or do you just start at the finish, making slower pace?
Aren't we supposed to be the dream-makers?
With god on our side we built cathedrals and cars and massive skyscrapers.

We once were a nation who stood up for what was right.
Now, money and power have made us lose our train of site.
Maybe the modern beast hasn't sent the Dream to it's tomb;
Maybe everything else has just filled up the room.

Is the Dream always something new and nifty?
I'm sure it's never been getting gas for $3.50.
Maybe the Dream was to finally succeed;
Now it must assuage our ever-growing need.

The dream sure isn't what it was 50 years ago;
It's gotten much harder to reap what you sow. 

So has modernity weakened or strengthened our path?
It's nearly impossible to stand back and do the math.
The numbers say your rate of success is much slimmer;
But your environment builds you up, praising you a winner.

What of technology, in this pursuit? Has it been very kind?
Has it pushed you steps back, or enlightened your mind?
You can argue both, I honestly don't care,
Life has never been fair, and in the end your subject to the demons of your own lair.

So let's not point fingers at the LCD's.
We're the only ones that hold the keys.
The race will be harder with more runners in place;
That's just plain logic, it's always been the case.

Maybe modernity is unraveling us by the seam,
But, what of it? 
Don't let it stop the pursuit of the American Dream.


- The world is growing into a much more competitive place. Your American Dream is the Dream of hundreds of other people your age. But, that doesn't mean modernity or technology is hurting the American Dream. It's just harder to achieve.

Those who reach for the stars, and miss time and time again, will achieve the American Dream. Because one day, they grab hold of one, or become one.

Mermaid Tears

by Kristina Hagman

A stranger came up to me today

With the most peculiar thing

He held a vial in one hand

And in the other, a ring.

He handed me the bottle,

with a smile on his face.

He gave me also the ring

in a gesture full of grace

“These are important for you,

You’ll need them sometime soon.

Drink the liquid and wear the ring,

Be ready for the moon.”

I took the gifts and message too

With questions in my head

But he only winked and turned away,

Leaving me full of dread.

I uncorked the bottle

and took a deep breath.

It was salty as the sea;

smelling just like death.

I hung the ring around my neck

it was a noose of lead.

I prayed that when the moon arrived,

I would not be left for dead.

A week had passed

since the stranger’s warning.

The air was frigid

And filled with mourning

The moon would come tonight, I knew.

It was time to face my fate.

Whatever Destiny had in store,

I wished she would be late.

But as the moon lit up the sky

I knew that it was time

I uncorked the vial of mermaid tears

And in the distance heard a chime

With shaking hands and beating heart,

Upon my finger I placed the ring

I closed my eyes and parted my lips

And with that, began to sing.

A beautiful song erupted

Vibrant, and full of life.

But then the melody quieted

And I could feel the strife.

Cold water drenched my body

And I knew that I was she

who had left the water for the land

who had become, well, me

I had cried these salty tears,

A long, long time ago

And where the ring would lead me now

I most certainly did not know.

But one thing I knew with certainty:

I needed to find the man

Who had given me the ring and vial

Who had lent a helping hand.

He had returned to me my identity

And for that I owed my thanks

There were so many lacking memories

From when I had left my ranks.

The memories flowed back to me,

the life under the ocean.

I remembered crying those mermaid tears

That were used to make this potion.

A tear slipped down my cheek just then

Salty as the sea

It had no magical properties,

because I was still me.

Did I wish for the waves?

The life I had back then?

That person was different from me;

Did I wish for her again?

The answers to these I did not know

I was quite sure of this.

But a little voice had told me:

“It’s alright to reminisce.”

I realized I did not miss my life

Down there under the waves

This life on land was good enough

For one, like me, who behaves

Although I had once been someone else

This was who I was, now

I was content with these memories

And with that, I made a vow

I would be happy with this life

Since I had chosen it

I would live each day completely

And I promised to never quit.

Something strange happened that day,

The most peculiar thing.

A stranger had given me a gift,

And I saw what life could bring. 

Sink

I wasn't sailing alone for long. But I was.
I remember thick, salty wind blowing in my face rather than supporting my hollowed back. 
I heard my struggling, tight gasping as I lost the reasons I kept my head under the wind.
So I ripped my throat wide open with the courage you handed me so long ago, so I could inhale, but what I breathed burned like peroxide. 
I saw nothing, as I grabbed for gauze and band-aids but I realized I had ran out many battles ago.
My life jacket had deflated when I popped a hole in it trying to swim as far away as I could.
I sat there, saying farewell to ragged hands, and they held my shaking voice together, because I was too out of breath for "hellos" anymore.
I worried if I hand drifted to an island, if the blood of my guilt would follow in trails of ribbon behind my shattered lifeboat. 
If I would be turned away.

If I was to far gone to be fixed.
That I couldn't have a paradise.
I thought I was going to drown. And I did.
But I want change.
I am a surgeon for the broken-hearted.
I think it's my obligation to bring that silky-soft fire-proof blanket over the shoulders of others who don't have the strength to blow out the flames anymore.
I needed a way to see.
I cut bifocals out of sea glass so I could imagine what it would be like to live with greened greed. Greed of self.
I feel saved because of my endless eternity of perceiving daisies now when all I saw was rows of thorns.
I forgive myself.
Now I can change.
I will build a world of strange things that bring me dire need. I wanted to make a bed golden daises and cry aloud for how far I've come.
I choose to accept that I won't always get the joy ride. I'll float along in most storm, keeping my face above the iced water. I refuse to sink.
I dream for warmth.
I hope I wash up on someone's loving shore. Sparkling with sand of new time.
I predict nothing.
I know I will drift on.