"cps" poems
In your past, this past
they weren't valued
no one said they were members of the family
what walks on four legs and is furry and cute is only
to last as long as nature intended and then to be disposed of
Veal calves in crates, taken from mothers on the day of their birth
to make more milk for humans, horse slaughter for glue
and foi gras, ducks and geese locked in a vice grip of their cages
metal tubes rammed down their throats and force fed until a liver disease
develops, painful, but given no respite
and served as a delicacy and
fur coats from animals skinned alive right here in America
still when mink farms are outlawed in the Netherlands and
two million dogs and cats skinned in China every year not to mention
other horrors and no one cared or looked their way because they are
only animals, and voiceless and helpless and no one cared to give them
a voice or advocacy
"that's why they're there, for our use, people still say" who profit from an industry
of suffering
And today, there are people who try to give them a voice and there are veterinarians who will try to help you with your member of the family, as he suffers, in his old age
a bag of fluids hangs from my exercise bike, and intermixed with my medications
is the painkiller and anti-nausea pills for my dear old friend
whose pancreas is failing
and father, this is foreign to you
you pretend it is a crime
silence is the only thing connecting us now
I hope you enjoyed your last barrage of unkind words
I think you did. The saddest thing I've learned about people like you
is
you feel better after such an attack, to see me reeling, bleeding on the ground
and you feel better, calmer and purged.
A kind of misbegotten peace settles over you
an exploitive peace from another's tears and pain
And yes, father, there were no agencies to give a voice to children
when you were young
no CPS, to aid my nine year old ***** friend
as a code of silence enveloped her attacker
to protect him, the one who destroyed her
But today there is a small brigade of a modern kind of love
to give a voice, protection, soothing to the ones who can
only suffer at our hands and not protect themselves from
our wrath and exploitation
and it is a better world for that, father
for my furry pancreatic friend and for any other
nine year old **** victims here
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
I used to love my mother.
I wanted to be like her.
She was the person I looked at as an adult.
Today I no longer love her.
Today she is the cause of all my problems.
From my health problems, due to her drug use while she was pregnant,
To my mental problems, both hereditary and from situations she put me in.
My addiction problems, not only because she’s an addict but also from how she treated me.
My eating disorder, because she used to bully me about my weight.
I have problems making friends because she ****** me up so bad I don’t relate to people well.
I’m afraid of being alone with men because of how many times she left me with random men and every time I ended up getting hurt, from as young as 3 ******* years old.
I lost trust in the system because no matter how many times CPS was called she found a way to keep me and my brother, because she’s ****** her way out of every one of her arrests. Including but not limited to, possession of a controlled substance, driving without a license, prostitution, endangerment of a minor, petty larceny, and grand larceny.
I have authority problems because her parenting left me with no positive thoughts about authority.
I’m currently $1,263.21 in debt because she used me for drug money.
I don’t know how to handle my emotions healthily because for the first 16 years of my life I wasn’t even allowed to have them.
And even though she is also a victim of **** and ****** abuse she told me I was a liar and that she didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend’s son had been ****** me for years. She stayed with the man and told me it was a family decision about what to do about it.
She didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend felt me up while she was away taking care of her dying mother either.
I thought my abusive relationships were okay because she treated me the same way.
She’s why I was a closeted transboy for so ******* long. And when she finally found out I was screamed at me and told me I was a girl no matter what.
My mother.
My mother doesn’t deserve my love or my respect.
All my mother is today is a model of what not to do.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
Were you alive when the
bricks began to crumble
beneath our hand-held, picket line
across the parking lot in front of some
school that no one bothered to name?
Our exhaustion-mumbled whispers
skipping across lips dropping to the street
that tapered ladders on gargantuan gadflies as the summer heat
etched the tear lines into mud tracks against
our ruddied faces.
Cohorts torn into flip stands
layered toward standing political sores --
tell me how to cross my t’s and fill in scantron circles before
the suits step over brown-bag lunches
to stretch the yawning yellow tape over the students’ lockers.
We were strung up the flag pole, almost posted as decapitated heads for the public.
The political analysts call this “The biggest school closing in decades.”
Under teeming hammer-strikes :
glasses shred to paper-splinters
before a young boy’s diploma
crying white chalk bricks
from university’s doors instead on to
prison yard orange jumpsuits.
Can we call this a school improvement project
or can we call this the Same Salem Witch Hunt
As unwashed teachers and students alike deck the sidewalks like
Either Christmas decorations on Michigan Avenue or
Inmates on the gallows platform
I’m completely unable to read the television marquee that told the neighborhood that City Hall was too stuffed with paperwork to defend the mothers and invisible fathers.
I’m completely unable to write out of respect for these children’s already-carved in stone pathway to the gutter, graveyard, and/or prisons.
In the first wink of dawn
We will all scatter
To our respective positions
Carved out in concrete before the
barricades fall
to flood the street.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
What is wrong with our youth today?
I don't know what and I don't dare say?
They are so rude and ignorant to
their elders,
they forget their manners and
do just what they want it
it because of CPS
I think it is
Our youth have no respect
for anything and no wonder why
our society is going towards a downward
swing.
I remember when I was wrong,
I would never talk like that to my
late mom or dad,
I would not stop hearing about it
for a long time.
This generation now before us,
has no respect for anything
especially for the elderly.
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
Girl for sale: scars all over.
Nobody told me scars weren't washable.
Remember being happy? Yeah, me neither.
Called CPS again. No justice made.
Please stop staring at my arms!
You remember being friends? I do...
Do you love me? ...no reply...
My face is up here, stupid!
Tried writing poetry. Failed miserably.
Walking dog. Car. No more dog.
I was driving, and then I...
Where did I put my hope?
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
There is anger in these thoughts teens r treated like kids but expected to act like adults ***** its not my fault this is ******** having me cleaning up like im a maid's kit but its the same punishment my 18 year old brother gets so am i 18 is all tht maturity supposed to hit i guess since im letting my anger out here and not in a fit cleaning the bathroom washing the floor i hope thts cps knocking on the door you dont trust me on the streets but expect me to hear my alarm when im sleep putting my education at risk all my teachers r goin to be pist but i hve to get bck to being cinderella and cleaning this **** i first thought it was a joke but im not taking the risk
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Sitting, staring, suffocating
always feeling so alone.
Words echo in your head
haunting memories tantalize.
Always feeling nervous
or to self-conscious.
Worried of what others think
and say about you.
Words hurt and ****
seeming everytime you get
back up.
You get knocked down.
Again!
Eventually it starts to hurt
especially when your family
joins in.
I seek help!
Calling!
Shouting!
Crying out!
But no one listens
or helps...
When I eventully do get help
it seems like they never listen
or care.
But when they do start caring
i get back stabbed.
Thought I could trust them…
They say they understand
But they dont!
Never will!
Until they experience it for themselves.
Feeling so alone
scared and helpless and alone
laying on the floor
as the blood trickles down
down
down
Seeming it wont stop
But eventually it does.
Thoughts so vile enter my mind
and thats when i cry
letting it out
After years of holding it in
No one understands.
Will ever understand.
Suicide and the knife
Was calling my name…
But i dont seek the courage
and that makes me cry harder.
Thats when i find myself falling asleep
Deeper
Deeper
into the nightmares that taunt me.
Of being *****
Sexually abused
Physically abused
Emotionally abused
Bullied…
I just couldnt take it anymore.
No longer without my sister,
my best friend for life
who died in my arms earlier on.
So much blood
So
So much blood.
It wouldnt stop
wouldnt stop!
Ive lost so much courage
Thought i was strong.
Cant take it anymore.
life is hell
Judgemental
Misfits.
I dont belong
And never will.
Am i good enough?
No im not!
I use to be able to ignore it
use to
but its hard
Easier said than done.
From the time i wake up
Til i go to bed
It follows me
Like a lost puppy.
Im lost in hope
without friends
Or family
Or a mother.
just a father who took me
away from my mother
Cause cps came and
took me away
From my mommy.
i was scared
Confused
Didnt know what she was doing to me
Was wrong.
I was so young
still coping with the loss
Of my grandmother
And my dog
Who were killed right in front of me.
i didnt know any better.
Was so little and frail
And young.
But the past doesnt matter anymore
Or the present
only the future…
Depression
depression
Depression
deep in my bones
And my veins
And feel it in my pulse
And the beat of my heart.
adrenaline kicks in.
More crying
And feeling alone.
Always shuting the outside world
Out!
Not letting any one in
To see the real me
Cause shes gone
its hard to find her
wish i could find her.
Shes lost
like i am now
Always eating to much
or going days without eating.
Too much or too little sleep.
always exhausted.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
The CPS or Cordial Praise Society
We who write, responding kindly,
Are the humble members of
The Cordial Praise Society’s
Appreciation of what others say,
Each in his way, (and naturally, her way as well.)
We do not try to sell ourselves,
And if we’re liked or even loved,
Get or give approval,
We are strengthened to the depths,
Feeling whole.
With no razzmatazz,
Let’s call ourselves the CPS
The Cordial Praise Society
Who push each other to the sky.
Not asking why,
We know it is the best and only thing to do.
The CPS or Cordial Praise Society 10.21.2020 the Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 7:26 AM UTC
I'm a foster kid as you know
With no one by my side to stay
I am alone with problems
Great...
I still cut and hide but that's what I'm good at
But let me start at the beginning
I was a gregarious kid who was witty and smart
Then came the day where it all went wrong
A CPS lady came to the house
And commotions came about
There was yelling and screaming
There were tears that were running around
And I had to pack my bags to get out
As you know I was abused in the household and was threaten here and there
But I still loved my mom for she was the only one there
But it was an unsafe
I couldn't stay
She took me away and here I am today
A sixteen year old gal who is living on her own
With no one by her side
With scars on her skin
I say "it's my fault I was taken away" but "it's for the best" they'd say
But she loves me but in reality that wasn't true
So now I hide and no more gregarious as I was before
I'm no longer smart as Im starting to fail school
I'm no longer witty cause there's no need for that anymore
I'm just useless in this world
For no longer I shall stay
For there's no reason to
For I am actually no one
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
good
morning
eggs
frying
milk
*****
babies
crying
drool
*****
mommy's
dying
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
when I'm mad, there are no mess-ups
but one
I'm trying to explain
why do I resent
the fact
you
don't see me trying
J
it's hard to listen when I'm angry
I don't know you-?
You don't know me.
You know my stories and my ****** reactions
"I get that"
no, you don't
you don't get me
no one does
I'm losing myself
while you find yourself
I feel I can't say anything anymore
I can't say **** about you
I can't talk about my ex
I get shunned
you twist my words around
make it into something it's not
I try my hardest to stay on a good track
but God
sometimes
I wanna rip my arm open
but that's hard
hard because everyone else around me does
and I'm trying to prove
I'm stronger than that
I try to be stronger
laughing
laughing
laughing
God, shut up.
shut up.
I laugh and laugh but it isn't funny.
but if I'm not funny
you won't love me
quiet.
we haven't talked just listen to your music
is that wrong?
is it?
is it bad that that's the only way that things come out of my mouth?
they whisper
I turn it up
they scream,
I blare
is it wrong that the voices don't stop
my mind is something you will never understand
but it's okay
I don't either
whatever makes
me
happy
you hate?
I know you have weird moods
so do i
so I guess I can't say much
sometimes J
just sometimes.
i
my whole life I've been shut down,
now by you too
I love you
but
the more we talk
the more that
I question your stories about
cheating and
being toxic
I doubt that
changed for me
everyone knows about your cps cases
and your grandfather
okay so I tell you things no one knows
but you tell me things everyone knows
quiet
silence
...
it's always had my back
but anyways
that shouldn't matter.
I'll just stay quiet.
NOT MINE, MADE BY MY GIRLFRIEND, I JUST WROTE IT DOWN AS SHE WAS TALKING
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
That glimmer in his eye
The charm in his walk, his talk
It was a curse
Didn't you notice his broken finger?
3rd one on the left
That was a present from his mother
No Doctor called at 6 years old
When the trunk slammed down
The remedy was olive oil
No CPS was called back then
They called him tough, brave and strong
But really it was a curse
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
Your smell has stained my memories, burning into my fragile skull never seeming to fade.
As a small child I thought it was pretty and striking, now I see the cheapness in your perfume, and your loathsome words.
It is a tragedy, it is selling yourself, late night visits from strange men, and plugging your ears to block out the screaming.
It is drug needles, crack pipes, living out of cars, growing up too fast, and lies and lies and lies.
When I smell it now everything comes back in flashbacks and vivid nightmares. A monstrous wave of past events, emotions and experiences still so vivid it hits me and knocks me off my trembling feet gasping air into my damaged lungs.
It is methadone clinics, cigarette burns, broken words, glossy eyes, cleaning up for cps, countless arrests and lies and lies and lies.
Despite its damage, despite its tragedy, I'd do anything to be wrapped in it again, small and unseeing of your faults.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 7:14 PM UTC
splintered bone marrow
broken, brittle and for a minute
felt something akin to happiness
maybe pain’s what’s been missing
kissing curbs with flintstone lipstick
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC
I remember screaming the lyrics to"Don't Stop the Music" out the sunroof like the young,immature child I was.
And getting yelled at right after that because " It was dangerous and I could have killed myself if she had suddenly hit the gas."
I remember thinking nothing bad ever happened in the world.
I remember crying on my neighbor's doorstep because I was ready to give up on everything and my mom said she didn't care what I did.
And crying for an hour straight because she was about to call CPS on my mom , I didn't want my mom to get in trouble.
I remember going from house to house with my mom and sister.
And the day my mom actually left my sister and I to go to Tennessee to "Find Dee and I a better place to live".
And how badly I cried because she said things to me that an 8 year old should never have to hear .
I remember having to grow up fast because I had to take care of myself and make sure I protected my family.
And being mad at my brother because he never had to struggle like I had
And hating everybody because they didn't protect their younger sister, but that was yesterday.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC
An actual headline I read today...
"I'm a good parent! CPS has been called to my house over 20 times, and never found anything"
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
A ten year old girl with a story to be told.
She was alone with no one not a soul in the world. Her mom didn't care, her dad went away. Life to her wasn't fair, no one to tell her it's going to be okay. Til one day the voices in her head said "Go ahead, pick up that blade." "You want the pain gone? It's the only way." The voices would get louder and louder and she would just cry harder and harder. Then a big black shadow came and sat on the bed beside her. His aura made her feel at ease much better. He made her feel safe alot more stronger. He promised he would never leave, he would stay forever. Same girl, now 16 years old still with no one but drugs rocked her world. She tried to, but couldn't hide her self harm. Scars running up and down her arms. Still the same big black shadow never leaving her alone. Same girl, now 21 years old. Now with a baby feeling all alone. She met a boy who asked "Hey, would you like to date me?" But sadly always made her ask her self "Why does he hate me?" This boy drove her mentally crazy, and because of him CPS came and took away her baby. Then after that, he left her for another lady. Same sad girl now 24 years old instead of a blade to numb her pain puts in her arm a needle. Still the voices always get louder and louder and she just cries harder and harder. The big black shadow whispers "I told you I would never leave you."
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
She runs amok without restraint
In pursuit of the high,
The thrill of the chase.
She's up for a cigarette
And down several pounds.
You'll find her naked outside the house.
They can force medication
But can't treat denial.
The CPS case is going to trial.
Her bipolar diagnosis
Remains hard to accept,
But stability is better than manic distress.
She could lose it all quickly.
No time for delay
Lest she face an endless stream of regret.
I understand her pain,
For I've walked this road too,
But with the right help she can make it through.
I hope she'll make haste in her recovery,
That she'll see on the other side
Is a taste of what it means to be alive.
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 1:50 AM UTC
I never even knew I was different. And by different I mean not white.
My mom has green eyes and light skin with freckles. She has brown hair that beautifully sprouts white strands sometimes, but she's never not beautiful. Or never not has green eyes, or light skin with freckles.
I have brown skin. No freckles, and eyes that look like almonds that didn't make it into the bag, in shape and color. My skin is dry. Except my face. My skin is more than one shade of brown, especially on my face. My skin is stretched. Never been tight. My skin reminds me of a potato, not so much "cafe con leche" like my nana says.
I grew up in this white town, with white people, and white expectations. I was never allowed not to act like a child because children of color are barely seen as children. I was never allowed to run or yell like the white kids on the playground because that made me look like I hadn't been "raised right".
I could never sit on the lunch benches outside like the other kids because the yard-ladies would only see my brown skin in the sea of whiteness and only tell me to not sit there.
I could never struggle in academics because that meant my hispanic mother didn't invest in my "academic success" and CPS would show up and ask me questions about whether my mom loved me or not. My mom worked three jobs, and saw us for less than three hours a day. she worked so she could invest in our success.
I couldn't say I was hungry because that meant my family was too poor and couldn't feed me. And then have CPS show up and ask to see the fridge. [I wasn't actually hungry, it's just that by the time I was 7 I had developed an eating disorder because I had no idea how to cope with anxiety].
I could never not listen to authority because it wasn't teenage rebellion, it would qualify me for special behavior programs targeted towards "troubled youth" and we all know that's code for "kids of color who won't make it past without being put in jail, being ***** pregnant at least once, or dying-- and by dying I mean killed by the system... choose any system because they're all designed to **** POC anyway".
I could never play in the sun during the summer with my white latinx cousins because the sun is not a brown girl's friend. The sun made my skin dark and made my aunt's hiss about my color to my mom and how she shouldn't let us out without sunscreen because we'd turn into "negritas", and that's what we shouldn't want.
I could never love myself because that doesn't exist when you aren't white. I mean, how do you love a body with thick brown hair, cracked skin, and a nose that doesn't look like Cinderella's? I mean, how can you love a body that doesn't look like anyone in the new J-14 magazine? I mean how do you love a body that's never seen the sun because she's scared of being too dark because then shes's ugly? I mean, how does a brown girl even love herself?
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 1:54 AM UTC
I remember that night like it was last night.
Except that I don't really remember all the details, which means that it didn't actually happen. . .right?
It was the weekend
My older brother was visiting
We were trying to see if he could potentially be adopted with me and my twin brother
The first of two days was great
We got along
I had missed him
We had dinner
We went to bed
I was in my room
He was in my twin brothers room
Then everything went downhill
He texted me
He asked if I remembered the time he tried to use me the first time
I said yes and told him to leave me alone
I was 15
He was almost 18
He kept texting me
He asked if I wanted to have ***
I told him no
He called me a *****
I told him to leave me alone
He kept asking
He threatened me
He told me that he would hurt me if I told him no
I kept saying no
Again
And again
I said no repeatedly as fast as I could send to the two letter text
He wouldn't take no for an answer
I asked him if I said yes would he leave me alone for the night
He said yes
He lied
I put my phone away and tried to go to sleep
He came downstairs
He knocked on my door
I answer and told him to leave me alone
He pushed his way in
He pushed me onto my twin sized bed
He told me to take my underwear off
I said no
So he took them off
He told me that he was going to get his way
No matter what
I told him no several more times and that I was scared of him
He didn't care
He told me that it was going to hurt
He pinned me down
I was crying
He told me to shut up
He was holding my wrists so tight
He was inside me
It hurt
I told him to stop
He asked me if it felt nice
I told him that I wanted him off me and that he was hurting me
He went faster and more rough
He laughed
I cried hysterically
I want to scream
I want to get him off me
I was frozen
He had won
He got what he wanted regardless of how I felt
He got off me
He left my room
I heard him walk up the stairs
He was done with his toy
I cried all night
I screamed into my pillow
I wished that I could've died
I tried to strangle myself
I wanted my soon to be adoptive parents to walk in and find me dead
I was *****
I let him hurt me
I let him use me
I let him **** me
I finally went to sleep
I woke up the next morning
I had breakfast and I waited for my CPS Caseworker to come for her weekly inspection
She came
She left
With no suspicion
Then he left
He had his visit but had to go back to his foster home.
I told a friend
She told a trusted adult
That trusted adult helped me tell my soon to be adoptive parents
The investigation started
The **** kit and examination made me feel twice as *****
The wanted the clothes I was wearing
My silky nightgown and my underwear
They wanted all the text messages
They wanted everything he touched
They questioned me asking if it was consensual
I told me them that it was not and that I kept saying no
They told me that I was lying
They told me that because I said yes out of fear that they couldn't trust me
The case was closed
He was set free
I was just a liar
Nothing happened
Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 6:15 PM UTC