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::Chris ::

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I was once told that we are a voiceless generation. A seemingly unintelligible mass of misguided, delinquent, drugged-up youths. A waste, a wonder, and a worry.

But I've heard that voice once. A lonely night in a dark room. It grumbled and mumbled from the deepest of blacks.

There is a voice. Let not perceptions of who we are, dictate who we will be. Let us speak up and out. Let us be heard. Let all of us be, The Voice

~ Chris .

::10:15:07::

:: A Father ::

Drowns himself in liquor -
numbs the pain quicker
(makes his skin thicker,
the soul sicker, bitter).
Eyes glazed by a foggy haze of
confusion, abusin',
fusin' reality with illusion.
Staggerin' 'round the house accusin'
ME of dentin' the car when HE'S the one boozin'.
Losin'
a piece of himself each day.
Usin'
lies to cover lies to cover truth;
how uncouth!
Spits words of spite that spur the fight
'tween my feelings of what is wrong and what is right.
Expects me to answer him respectfully,
to handle this situation gracefully -
as if he owns an ounce of dignity,
integrity,
love from me.
Hypocrisy.
Raises his hand as he reprimands.
I grasp the man but
I take a stand.
Oh no,
he shall not push me down.
For heavy is his head when he is hit with the crown.

Written by: ~ Chris

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