- Dimke: ‘I’m not going to retire’
- IMRF responds: Pay spiking against the rules
- Bill limits automated license plate readers
- Private uni’s subject to FOIA says House
- Guest Commentary: Earth Day or April Fools Day?
- State Roundup: Concerns raised about proposed change in DUI pot standard
- Bill would decrease pot penalties; small amounts would draw only ticket, fine
- Senate votes to restore human service cuts; bill moves to House for consideration
- Bill to restrict red light cameras passes House
- State Roundup: Budget fix in current FY not yet done
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