- Lee Hamilton: President, Congress should work together on military intervention
- Ethnic Parade and Festival Sunday, Sept. 21
- Symphony begins 80th season Sept. 20
- Vikings bar Adrian Peterson from team activities
- Mr. Green Car: A car from your printer
- Candle Crest owners to open their first store and manufacturing operation in Rockford
- DuPont ordered to pay $1.85M for killing trees
- Rockford hosts America’s largest World War II-era re-enactment Sept. 20-21
- Guest Column: Former alderman: Rail station should be on Cedar Street
- A visit to The Wall That Heals
A poem: Rockford Repurposed
Editor’s note: The following poem is being presented as a Letter to the Editor.
Think it possible a town could banish reason?
Our leaders, if they ever were, have run away.
A Mayor come from hiding says he’d like us
to align with his good friends. And Who are they?
A Trojan Horse disgorges by the river,
a slouching rough regime veers drunkenly
pays self princely fees, with Broad sword slashing
like the wrecking crew it is, was and it will be.
Children re cut into our’s and their’s.
Are piped off to a destiny the people did not ask for.
With little opposition from the Board,
Black calls out white, white decries black as oppressor.
Everyone is up to their old tricks. Now
Winkin’, Blinkin’, Nod in force appear.
Through modern miracle of cryogenics,
To smile and shake the hands of profiteers.
What? Beloved teachers are degraded,
bound and gagged and stripped of workers rights.
What? Allow our selves as children’s parents
to turn upon each other, marginalized.
While media mocks us all for stupid beasts
And serves a bag of half realities and spin
That some consume with gusto and with sauerkraut.
A high school jersey used to wipe their chin.
Are students to be filled with fear and told,
As the private/public marriage dances round
“Accept the promise now of less than nothing,
Your time and dreams are wasted in this town”?
Thus is Rockford, Illinois to be repurposed.
O God, What have … We did this to our youth?
“You people knew what I was when you picked me up.”
A downtown chorus laughs the partial truth.
From the March 2-8, 2011, issue