Thursday, June 12, 2003

SONG - Bound By Confidentiality

INSPIRATION: Catholic/Regular Children's Aid Societies Withholding Foster Kids Files

ALBUM - Behind Closed Doors

AUTHOR - John Dunn

MUSIC GENRE - Hard Industrial


Contact me if you are an industrial / electronic musician (hard)

Children's Aid abducted-us, from-our friends and fam-i-ly
Usin' chainsaws of au-thori-ty, to destroy our family tree

This cruel'n-unusual punishment, dished-to low in-come mothers
"I adopted a beauty, for under thirty-thousand dollars"
(In snotty adopters voice)

Bouuuuuuuund by confi-denti-ality
Whaaaaaaaaat a fuckin' phrase

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiding sanctioned child abuse
For over fourty-eight thousand fuckin' days

They waste a million dollars, on fuckin' legal fees
When they could use that money, to help out families

Once youre placed in foster care, you wind up livin' God knows where
Shipped around like fuckin mail, till sixteen years when you can bail

Bouuuuuuuund by confi-denti-ality
Whaaaaaaaaat a fuckin' phrase

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiding sanctioned child abuse
For over fourty-eight thousand fuckin days

To our natural families, we're not allowed to speak
Group Home Staff are too afraid, us dirty-little-rats will squeak

They make our file summar-y, in attempts to satis-fy
They cut out all the shit they did, and leave us with a lie

Bouuuuuuuund by confi-denti-ality
Whaaaaaaaaat a fuckin' phrase

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiding sanctioned child abuse
For over fourty-eight thousand fuckin days

They say our files are se-cret, in-order to protect-us
But in re-al-ity, it's so those fuckers can repress us

The longer they procrastinate, in giving us our lives
The bigger and more fortified, become the Crown Ward HIVES!!!!


Guitaar / Drums hard core!

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

I have an appointment with my psychiatrists supervisor on Thursday June 12th 2003 at 1:00 to talk about the option of getting copies of my therapy sessions on cassette as I wish to share them with schools of social work.

I understand their fear of some kind of negative reprisals as a result of this, but it is of the utmost importance that these therapy sessions get shared with people who are learning to be social workers, and who will work on the front lines with kids in foster care so they understand the impact, and outcomes of foster care on the children it is supposed to protect.

I am willing to edit out all of her comments, and questions, and will make sure that there is no indication of where I am receiving therapy from, but either way, but I need to do this.

I also need support from others to back me up in this process.

If you can support me on this, please send an email to me at

Thursday, June 05, 2003

June 18 2003

On June 18th, I will be heading into Toronto to complete the second last stage of my complaints procedure on the Catholic Children's Aid Society not giving me copies of my foster care files, and those of my deceased mother.

Discuss it at this message board.

I found a most incredible poem which was written by a goth to a Christian Goth site, which talks to Christians all around. I just thought it was beautifully written, and very thought provoking.

Taken from Psalms of Life

This tale is told from the perspective of a (non-Christian) Goth, being "witnessed" to by (non-Goth) Christians.



We are the people of darkness and fog,
you won't see us in Dockers, or out for a jog.

We don't live in your suburbs, or hang out in your bars,
We don't listen to Kenny G, or drive flashy cars.

We aren't drinking a six-pack while watching pro sports,
or riding a lawn tractor in bright-colored shorts.

When we were young, your friends were all cool;
We were the other kids, in the shadows at school.

Some of you taunted us, (some of you feared),
you said we were uncool, ugly, and wierd.

Did you befriend us? Ha! Not even a chance;
We're not the ones who got asked to the dance.

Now that we're older, and you've settled down,
we still see you sometimes, when you come downtown.

So you've found religion, now isn't that swell?
Now you're all jazzed up on Heaven and Hell.

You're on a new mission, the GothFolk to save,
to snatch us from darkness, on the way to the grave.

What would you say to us, child of the light?
Will you come to where we are, late in the night?

When you find our hangout, will you just stand and stare?
Can you see past black leather and spiked purple hair?

Your Pastor has told you certain phrases work well,
like "If you die tomorrow, are you going to Hell?"

If you say that we're evil, and all full of sin,
will that bring us to your Church steps, eager to get in?

If we do show up Sunday, what happens then?
Will we be warmly welcomed by tie-wearing men?

Will we hear in a sermon, "Thou shalt not smoke or drink!"?
(Will it sound like he really means "Thou shalt not think"?)

Will we hear of the evils of dancing and swearing,
and all that is wrong with the clothes we are wearing?

Will we hear how God's wrath burns against every sinner?
(Will us heathens be welcome at the big potluck dinner?)

If we don't measure up, we can count on a snub,
no, we don't think we're joining your Church/social club.

We wouldn't hear anything likely to please us,
(But we are sort of curious to hear more words of Jesus).

It seems we will stick with our lifestyle of sin,
where at least we're accepted, at least we fit in.

It's a shame that your Church was a drag and a bore,
since we really are hurting, with problems galore.

My best friend is lonely, and can't find a wife,
and last Sunday my girlfriend took her own life.

Others, I know, are not happy, just gay;
Can anyone point out The Truth and The Way?

We have faiths and philosophies by every name,
After a while, they all sound the same.

"Do whatever feels good, and don't worry about it!"
Since I don't feel too good, I'm begining to doubt it.

So we gather together on Saturday nights,
to play our kind of music, away from bright lights.

We hook up and break up, and hook up again,
some men with women, and some men with men.

We drink, and we dance, and we light up our cloves,
while God-fearing Church folk avoid us in droves.

If Jesus were living in this very year,
would He buck the system and visit us here?

Would He come down and join us, knowing what rules to bend,
would He come and sit with us, could we call Him our friend?

When He listened to us, would he look in our eyes?
Would He tell us His stories, so deep and so wise?

Well, He isn't here now, so who knows what He'd do?
Is there anyone like Him? Could it ever be you?

"The Teacher"