(Music Plays in Black out. Everlasting Bass by Rodney O and Joe Cooley. Image of SFC on video screen. Lights slowly fade up on Jeremy freestyle dancing. He ends on the ground. Spotlight. He begins monolog by smoking a glass pipe. CRACK!)
Crack cocaine came infecting those who shared your same last name
Brothers and fathers, even mother’s and daughters
All faltered on the destructive path in the fast lane
Immediate gratification causing pain
Life was slow
So free basing sent the soul into an artificial paradise
Laced with a government spice
“If you live in despair
and poverty stares at your face
sometimes a $20 taste
can help one escape
morality then becomes baked with disillusionment
the consequences can be permanent
as a result of mass unemployment”
(Kilusan1898 walks behind a pole)
My father was laid off from a good job
And for the next 10 years
He seemed always pissed off,
Coughing up blood,
Passing out on the living room rug
Coming home with a mug
Because no one would hire him
The light of hope turned dim
And my family was introduced to crack cocaine
It drained protest hot communities
It stole from families,
Many violent night tragedies still explode into memory
Pond shop jeopardy: TV’s, VCR’s and jewelry
Even children Nintendo birthday presents
Father’s became thieves
Mother’s were led to believe
That free basing and tasting this drug
Would provide them love that hugged away all problems
Crack house basement asylums
Within close circumference to children who played in the streets
Wolves thriving off sheep
No sleep as a government whispered, “Escaped, Escape….
Escape from the hate….
Escape from the internalized rape….
It was their fear and hate
that brought us to this desperate point of self-destruction
(He ends monolog by smoking the glass pipe once more).
If I could go back in time I would first hug my father and whisper in his heart that his whole family loves him. Then I would take that glass pipe out of his hand and throw it at the White House.
But we’re not living in some kind of Marvel comic fantasy. So let me just tell it like it is, I was the son who just listened to my father while he was drugged out of his mind. I guess all he wanted was someone to listen to his darkest fears without judgement. He would call me late at night.
Jing! Come over here and bring me a glass of water with ice in it. Come here now.
I would walk real slow. I was just a kid, afraid of being beaten by pops. His smell of smoke, alcohol and the red in his eyes made him look demonic. But still I went because I had no choice
What are you scared to spend time with your dad? Who do you think you are? You don’t know how lucky you are to grow up in America. We didn’t have nothing in the Philippines. You, your brothers and your mom hate me. And for what, because I don’t have a job. You all didn’t say shit when I was buying everything for this family. Don’t worry, you better thank me because I’m teaching you how you don’t want to end up. You hear me. Don’t you ever be like me.
Then he would start talking in Tagalog. I couldn’t understand Tagalog but I knew he was hurting because water would swell up in his eyes. And just like that he would pass out. The TV eventually turned to static. I would get up. Cover my father with a blanket. Empty out all the cobra 4 ounce bottles. Throw away all the cigarette butt’s. And say a prayer for my father. My grandmother told me to always pray for my parents no matter what. And that’s what I did.
You know, in elementary school, when my friends were experimenting with weed and getting drunk, all I could do was watch. My father’s example traumatized me and I didn’t have the curiosity to try it myself. I didn’t want to get like my father when he was on drugs.
I love you dad.
(lights fade out)