I’m not critical. Really I’m not.

Nineteen Eighty-Four is power for thought.
That’s what Suess did. That Seusucal man.
Made you think and re think and then think again.

The nonsense must stop and not playfully so
You cross the line when our history must go.
While things do offend, and narrow a view
We strengthen our character in issues we chew.

If we never fall how can we get up
To bump and to bruise help us grow up.

I speak for the books for they cannot speak.
He’d write a new book not claiming defeat.
He’d call you all out. Let you stew in your shame
For life is a book, a poetical game, not political fame.

In a box in my attic, afar from display
Sits the remnants from past- such a long way away.
Deep in that bottomless pit there’s a plenty of books
My children delighted from their very first look.

My heart so does swell as I think of this news
Did seusucal nonsense change my childlike views?
Do I interpret correctly? Some books must be stopped?
Does history repeat and repeat in a knot?

Who decides what we read, what we share with our kids
Do we learn from the past or temper with lids?
How does one learn that humans do grow
Thoughts are not concrete and wisdom will show.

Hear me, cries my heart, I speak for the books.
You spineless heartbreakers that hide in your nooks.
No book is not teachable, books are our tools!
Try us you’ll see we’re not unlearnable fools.

I dust off that worn and shoddy old friend
His spine is crumbling and pages need mend.
His thoughts are still pure and love was intent
No malice or hate or mind bending sent.

I repeat, cries my heart, I speak for the books.
To censor is evil a stealing of crooks!
My book is still mine and I’ll share as I do
My heart will grow bigger and bigger it’s true
But what of the generation anew?