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WorthThey told me I could be anything,
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As long as I came home and cooked dinner for my husband when I was done,
Because that’s all I’m really worth to them.
I’m a plate of burnt pancakes
That they could have cooked better,
And a rag soaked in chemicals
Here to wipe up a mess they made
Or gag the children that they’re too tired to listen to.
My skin is too dark for them
Too dark to be near their sons
Too dark to be pretty in their family pictures
Too dark to suit the skins of their grandchildren,
Love everyone equally,
Just love them from afar, right?
“Depression is a sin,”
He preached with a pounding head
And a trace of liquor on his breath.
And he would know better then anybody,
Because leaking from his hollow eyes is a stream of whiskey
But only in my mind.
And I feel sorry for him, that they make him fight against himself,
But at the same time I hate him for giving in to them.
In my mind, I stand up in the pew and scream truth at him,
Blood MoneyEditor 3-25-13
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At the risk of sounding left of left, which only a few decades ago was center, I have a couple of issues that are troubling me. The twenty something generation, two of which I am responsible for, has grown up in a culture of endless war. As most kids develop, they start to become aware of society in general at about ten years old, so if you were born in, say 1992, as you reach your twenty first birthday you cannot remember a time when your country wasn't somewhere fighting someone. Peace would seem an odd thing indeed. Add to the fact there is no individual forced involvement with these wars (draft) it's not something kids give much thought to. The only kids aware of our endless war are the ones that can't find work and join the military or are persuaded to join with glamorous marketing images implying warfare is like your favorite video game. Once in, our Faustian military policy makers employ what is referred to as "the back door draft", meaning multiple