submitted by Steven Adam ‘Joaquin’ Drake, Escondido, CA

Child Abuse

Awakening

Peace at hand of soul in mind to surface out of art sublime.
Refined in conscience verified -beyond the pain- that’s
Sacrificed. Along the lines of hope to dream for one’s own
Heart in heart of self-esteem. Inherent recovery copiously
-Expatiating feelings- righteously discerned in faith beyond
Make believe. Reality strikes in depth of shattered dreams
To live for beauty seen. Grasping hands transparently for
Enlightening soul searching in wisdom’s goals in trust to
Find its way. In shadows of the darkness slain for fear in
Conquered peace. I save in love to dream the night away
For its last est awakening.

ART’S ABYSS

Nobody can relate to my problems. However, I’ve been burglarized on several occasions. Falsely accused of wife-beating in a court of law in Chicago, when I wasn’t there to defend myself. Although this was back in 1973 I’ve been trying to remove this because it slanders my character. Which goes to motive of why I was falsely accused in the first place.

I could have died on several occasions. Bleeding out my life’s blood, while people were ripping off my intellectual property as a lyrical-poet-songwriter. Sense childhood! Because it was family helping those in the music industry and because I was abused as a child this was extremely hard for me to deal with. Years ago because of these shocking circumstances I’ve severed all ties with family whom have set me up to take these tremendous falls.

I’ve pleaded on deaf ears as an American Citizen, feeling disenfranchised out of society -thrown to the wolves of pariah predators- in name of family with those whom have household names with those in the music industry. That ripped me off up close and personally.

When evil rules the earth were are any benevolent angels? When people with malice aforethought get off scot-free with impunity because they are rich and famous, where does that leave me? But defenseless. When my character can be slandered by the powers-that-be, that are immune to feelings, where are the laws to protect me?

When no one has any shame left, nor any sense of moral outrage, humanity is lost to the world-at-large, when conscience dies along the lines of sole bravery to survive. I’ve been fighting this for years without anyone honestly on my side. When the power of money becomes one greedy affair after another.

Then there is nothing left but terror’s treachery, behind the scenes that mortifies the humane spirit trying to survive in light of some cherished hope, beyond someone’s far gone conclusion of heretical mystery… however, in depth of art’s soul searching ability. “Conscience Nurtured by Truth,” whom shall I be able to talk to for joie de vivre?