This is a parody of Allen Ginsberg's Howl, by Annette Abma. If you would find it fun to read the two side by side, Howl here.

For All who Follow Them

I see the new minds of each generation destroyed by parents, coerced apologetical misled,

drugging themselves on Sesame Streets, withdrawn, looking at an angry face;

angelheaded youngsters yearning for patient kindly affection from the harried who impose the tyranny of might;

whose liberty's in tatters; who open-eyed and shy spit up choking in unnatural darkness of cold-hearted folk, flailing within the cage of cradles castigating those

who barred them in these beds under the spell of all ‘developmental experts’ sputtering pseudo-scientific proofs unlimited;

who're passed through schools by obedient hinds effeminating iron intellect to bakelite, tragic strategies among the keepers of scores;

who're compelled to turn off Scorcese, wiping ‘un clean’ shows from the windows of their skulls;

who're showered in punishment and praise, turning minds into wastebaskets filled with a terror of self-will,

maladjusted like Pavlovian dogs, salivating to the credo of a bell every time they strive to do new work; whose fate lies in restraint, whose cells of “thanks” & “what's-yours-is-mine” are unfair prices of Parental tally: the stealth of admonitory curses where might makes right

with screams, with hugs, with making share, hours of school and locks and endless halls.

But here, the common-preferable kind meet like muttering crowds, enlightened by the minds leaping towards goals of “can do” & “you matter, son”; germinating an illusionlesss world of TCS.