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("A child is a person. Just because they happen to be a little shorter than you doesn't mean they are dumber than you. A lot of people forget how much value there is in raw intuition--and there's plenty of that in every child. They might not have verbal or manual skills yet, but that's no reason to treat them like inferior little lumps whose destiny it is to grow up to be inferior big lumps like you."--Frank Zappa)

Your kids are accessories, you see them as lesser things
To conform, fit your niche of the norm
They’re people and equals, not simply a sequel
To your mistakes, pseudo mates and futile fate
You never knew truth, just stay on your bluetooth
Coach couth, lamenting your lost youth
While they’re raised by a system so quick to dismiss them
Something’s a miss, let’s give a prescription
He’s got his mom’s mania and dad’s dimples
Status symbols, so your DNA doesn’t dwindle
You could’ve adopted, but that’s not what your mom did
Orphan overflow, but fuck those fraught kids
You never really listen, just perpetuate a prison
At the schism they’ll reject your faux wisdom

Your kids are accessories, always make a mess of things
Heirs to depleted esteem and destroyed dreams
Some parents are great, this ain’t showing them hate
This song’s for the many more that I abhor
Like those who would tamper with a rubber
Make it break so they can be a mother
Child support court calculates colossal costing
Then stop the pop from seeing the offspring
Or the deadbeat dads who dash for the door
When their progeny’s three or four
Gave their word but didn’t mean it, it was too inconvenient
Their sons scream, but they're nowhere to be seen
You don't give a shit about your kids and never did
You want back pats while your cubs take crack hits

You forgot the feeling of scheming and dreaming
The demise of your eyes gleaming
At the hands of the man who plants the scare scam
Sells us a shit sham that lasts our life span
That we’re not good enough, that we don’t deserve love
Without Paxil, all doped up you’re sad still
Now you have your offspring to treat as tossed things
Hit and scold to fit the mold
Between mommy and media, of course Pee-Wee’s a deviant
Could be brilliant, but you prefer obedient




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Hug of War Phoenix, Arizona

Musician. Poet. Philosopher. Philanthropist. Hero.

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