CHRIS J. MELANSON
PoetryArtworkFiction
“Clouded By…”


Many weirdoes
Roam round this round planet
With unsound thoughts.
I’m one of them!

Many dreamers
Take shots at fame,
Scratching tickets they choose,
Only to lose the game.

Many braggers
Drive brand new vettes,
Laugh at grocery baggers,
Though, never pay their own debts.

Many losers
Mold to a couch,
Watch the television,
And fill up a pouch,
All with welfare check stubs,
While their children are out destroying the streets,
Beating people for money and fun,
Chasing their highs—
What a keen sense of criminal thinking!
You’ll see these children run to the nearest drug pusher—
Non-discrete on a corner,
In front of a bar,
Where these six-year-olds
Used to play on big-wheelers in traffic,
Unwatched and unsupervised by parents
Who were ready to kill each other,
Because the mother fucked her husband’s brother
When the cocaine began to smother
Her ability to know right from wrong.
I recently heard that the husband died
When he tripped on his oldest son’s water bong,
Causing him to fall down the stairs.
I also heard that, after the funeral,
The mother and her husband’s brother continued their affair.
Those children must have grown up with no chance at all.

Many people
You always see
Would steal all your money
If they knew you’d blame me!

…Told ya!

All Content Copyright © Chris J. Melanson. All Rights Reserved.
-Chris J. Melanson 1999