In March 2012, Congress passed with an overwhelming vote of 399-3 the “HR 347” law, or formerly known as the Federal Restricted Buildings and Grounds Improvement Act. The law basically allows the government to punish people who protest on grounds protected by the secret service or near any important officials of the united states (the president including). This seems to conflict with the first amendment of our constitution of free speech, particularly with the principle that states for the right of assembly and speech. So I wrote an extended metaphor describing the situation. We the people sit in this restaurant called the United States and are served rough words everyday, just like how one would get a well-done steak when he really wanted his done rare. We Americans chew on so much words we want to say to a point where we can’t chew anymore and spit out ever word we have bottled up for such a long time. But when we do that, not only are our words jumbled and disorganized, making miscommunication very likely, but the words are thrown back into our faces by the waiters who have “served” us, otherwise known as our officials that are supposed to be protecting us and not hindering us.
A Rough Chew
Today’s meal was a rough chew
My steak was a cluster of pearls
So eager to be spat out
But only Into the dumps
So I punched all the buzzers
Hoping to slam down a generous few
Chunks of gold
You were disgusted by my chewed-up carcass
You took the chunks and threw it
Right in my face
But I must say that I’m sorry—
That my words are rough like pearls.
My muscles contract with spectacular labor
Crushing, clenching, cramming so many words
to say.
I get tired of holding it in
So I spit it out on the silver platter—
That very same platter you served with.
So that was my meal today
A well-done steak
A cracker chew that skins my teeth.
But I say, with utmost frank
That every day is a rough chew
For my words are always at stake.
All I need from you is a stake anew.
Please take my order and give me rare—
–rare words that chew like butter
That absorb with care
That bleed a gentle red
So that I can tip you with gold up of my sleeve
And leave you satisfied…
Sophia Chawala