It Was a False Age in Utopian Days

Reads: 129  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem and essay is a draft of work I started as a child (when I was known as a "wealthy heiress or heir" in the United States and someone told me I actually own the Liberty Bell and protect it. I am not the person who struck a bell in Arlington County once, as a woman in particular, but I am beginning to write about the topics that concern women, especially when told as children that we actually "own" something, and can touch it - when in society, the rules are against it and no one mentions that. Patricia Louise McGurk

Submitted: October 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 19, 2016



It was a false age in Utopian days called Old. He said to me, an important man telling me he cared about my future, that "they are going to come one day, Patti, to make you pay for ringing the Liberty Bell".You may have forgotten this, but people in authority told you as a child that the Liberty Bell really was or is your own bell and you believed that.You believed that it was Yours. Unfortunately, the bell is protected by five, not one, militaries.

One day a little girl, went over there, not you, but a real child in contemporary reality walked across the street from MacDonald's Restaurant, and rang or struck the Arlington, Virginia Liberty Bell with loud, banging tones with a stick. They will find you, however, the person they told in the 1950's that you owned this bell and protect it for Democracy and the freedom of the citizens in the United States - somehow they will blame you for her transgression, if it was one.  A child's act some said was with her father.  Not anyone related to you.

If you are the writer, then you have been ringing the bell of freedom and liberty and may have upset the nation, another important man said.  Still another said they will make you PAY for waking them up, the important men, even once in the night.  You are brave, and I am an important international policeman and I am not as brave as you.

It's quiet here again in these Hallowed Halls I tread in or through, or walk through or down every day , I walk through the Nation's dignity. They say that is not the Real One, the real Liberty Bell, but it might be, the bell that a little girl struck with an object, perhaps a stick one day in Virginia to hear the sound of it. The sound of Liberty because her father told her she could do this, ring her own special bell and hear the sound of Freedom or Liberty.

 I would know this, as I am the senator someone called (an unknown person said to me) on the telephone to report this ringing of the important Arlington bell, and I am the Senator who came to help you as "Trance Victim", but where am I now? If I am not standing with you I may be punishing Me I suppose within the jail in congress, the usual one or the reverse is occurring, and they are punishing me. In democracy in which I stand and believe in fairness.

Parsimonious bouguets of heather, cactus flower scents of Incense and Peppermints (I remember the song from the 1960's era). Purse your lips, he said, with approval of me one day, Patricia Louise McGurk, and perhaps find a new address for yourself for knowing All as they will always come to find you and ruin your privacy.

The people of the general public in the United States were criticizing Congress saying stamp stamp the injustice of franking privileges - I believe what it is or franking privileges are is the right to send a personal letter from the government building in which I toil without paying the postage. Postage stamp. It must be unjust! to do this. There was a controversy at the time of all of this of what they called in the newspapers, "Senate franking privileges". If this isn't the meaning, I do not know what the phrase means.

Please stamp the injustice by writing this down and mail the letter out of the country with a postage stamp one day (should the nation survive by the time you remember this message from me) for the Senator somewhere who wanted to help you, but apparently was not allowed to do so. It was a false age in utopiandays called Old. Old Age. (so they say).

© Copyright 2018 Ms Patricia Louise Mcgurk. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Editorial and Opinion Poems