Fates of Fathers For Sons – Chuck Harp

It’s always been cold in your father’s shadow.
Friends and followers, damned with the doomed
trapped in a zone of fallen dreams,
of pulsating desires, never to be achieved.
Demons, past and present
lurk in Desire’s looming darkness
sleeping on cinders of spoon-fed failures
like sitting inside nightmares.
The walls close in tightly
like lying in a drawer of the morgue.
Comrades cry out
riddled with diseased psyches
screaming, begging, for light above.

Daddy taught you to hate.
Count the dead,
does it live up to the times?
Pain inflicted by stabbed backs.
Slices of pride scalped away like animal skins
surrounded with a following of few.
Sword wielders with spice in their veins,
revenge rattling in their souls
while the beast grows within.

One day chaos will be released
swatting at gods as if they were flies,
all in your father’s name
all for the family pride.