MISSION STATEMENT

SILENT VOICES SPEAK started out as Silent Voices: A Writer’s Workshop, as the first group at the drop-in center at the Broadway location of Community Counseling Centers of Chicago, whose purpose is to empower it’s attendees to form and attend their own groups.

We have branched out as an independent entity. We are silent no more. We say yes to the creative possibilities of life & art...

The mission of SILENT VOICES SPEAK is to give a voice to people who are disenfranchised. Many of the participants in SILENT VOICES SPEAK are also visual and/or performing artists.

Membership is open to all.
Send submissions to lizhipwell@gmail.com.

Monday, November 5, 2012

COMING by Kelly Greenwood


My self-esteem is growing
this thing about sexual healing
this is an awakening
I need to be dancing, I should be swimming
my star is rising
I feel myself coming
deeper moaning again and again
flesh catches fire
my spirit sprouts wings
singes the tips like heat
steady the flight
like riding a bike
you never forget how to walk
when you're running
 
-Kelly Greenwood

ANGER PAIN HURT by Kelly Greenwood

My anger feels like a raging tantrum
brewing like a storm
like I may explode in a sonic BOOM
and innocent bystanders will be injured
if I pull the trigger
if I let the pressure gauge out
even just a little bit
it's like jet fuel
and if I channel it properly
I know it can take me to such great heights
blast me out of the water
My pain has allowed me to turn my anger inwards
to slice my insides up
to look like Zorro has been there
and the bleeding ulcers
the lacerations the bruises
cuts and scars on the inside
have deformed my perceptions
warped this mind I've been given
blocked the opening
when I wanted to scream
sound-proofed the padded room
the dark windowless room
I've been chained up in
and it cycles back to rage
but renders me powerless
My hurt is greater than my worst fear
and the tenderness swollen inside my neck
knocking around in my skull
blistering and burning in my chest
sits on my head like I'm breathing under water
and when my wings have sprouted
they're too wet for me to fly
so I crawl I walk I run
to try and beat the sun to the horizon
'cause when it catches up I know
I'll melt into a puddle and freeze
And this cycle has my tires threadbare
I'm running out of gas in a stolen car
and I just don't feel like
going anywhere but here
right where I belong
in the center of my own universe
I fail to march to orders
that no longer serve me
I'm a repeat offender
waiting for trial to serve my penance
for the self-inflicted harm
these three companions have encouraged
But greater than this
is my desire, my hope and my wisdom
to come out the back end
unharmed as a clean slate
and watch as the scars fade but not disappear
I've earned my striped in this war
and for that I am grateful
that I've lived long enough
to make it this far
the cuts on my arms are proof
I could have killed myself a long time ago
but I felt like I was already too dead to die
sometimes you have to take a running leap
if you wanna learn to fly
 
-Kelly Greenwood

DEVOUR by Kelly Greenwood



Eat me drink me
lick me taste me
bite me suck me
chew me swallow me whole
all the way down
'cause my well is drying out
lay your wetness into me
turn me inside out
I'm reluctant to chase
so hesitant to change
but I'll burst into flames
before I let it go to waste
Heal me burn me
hold me drop me
whatever you do
don't let go of me
incomplete yet whole
a paradox of puzzle pieces
lifting lids painting holes
flames rise
licking my insides
waterlogged from the tension
intense apprehension
a feeling I can't equate with loneliness
some solitude can lead to distress
right now all I'm thinking
is about wanting to undress
Sometimes
I find it hard to trust myself
my naked radar gun is broken
needs to be calibrated
while I'm still thawing out
things are a little blurry
now that the blinders are off
the blindfold has been lifted
my ears ring and pop
tongue feels like sandpaper
from licking the flames
off of your heart
tears poured into buckets like rain
running like legs
trying to catch the last midnight train
I am not here against my own will
yet I still keep trying to find
the source of pain
-KELLY GREENWOOD

Thursday, November 1, 2012

ON HOLD WAS I by Elizabeth Hipwell


On hold was I
Trapped in my 5'8.5" physique
Held tight by the pain of my past
Held captive within the confines of fear
This prevented my hungry nature from soaring
To parts unknown that promised exotic adventures
Echoes of a past not half bad,
But not half good
A confusion of creativity
Scratching
Scratching
Scratching
Until it's fingertips drip with hunger and blood
Demanding to be unrestrained
To create
To express
To speak and be heard
A little fair haired
High cheek-boned
Educated lady
Not knowing her own worth
Feeling invisible
Embarrassed for
Needing, wanting and lusting
And having the audacity to say, "I am here!"
It is difficult to plant her large frame
Take up space
In the ground
Growing roots that extend
Through the layers of her existence
Planting new seeds
That takes root in my new found hope, love, and zeal
Idealism reinstated
Sticking with it
Even in the dark night of my soul
Cognizant that a pin light flickered at the end of the tunnel
I am a big woman
Passionate, loving and thoughtful
A tad insecure
Confident, however, that it does get better
The hard part has already happened
I am stronger for it
The risks I take now are easy compared to what I've been through
Having already lost a lot
Current endeavors are less daunting
I am plugged back into life
Not on hold
-Elizabeth Hipwell

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

MY HALLOWEEN STORY by Margie Taylor


     It is Halloween in the year 1958.  I am 6 years old.  My mom dresses me up as a cat and takes me trick or treating. We go from house to house; we walked 3 blocks first on one side of the street, and then on the other side of the street.  My mom said, “Margie after the last house we will go home. I will make hot chocolate and we will have some cookies.”
     As I come to the last house it is all decorated for Halloween. The lights are dim and howling sounds are coming from all around. There is a carved jack o'lantern that is on the porch all lit up and it looks scary. There is a big webbed spider and a ghost hanging up on the porch and a grave yard on the side of the lawn. As I go up on the porch I have my candy bag opened.  I ring the bell and say trick or treat.
     This lady answered the door.  She too was dressed as a cat.  I looked at her.  I was stunned because she looked just like me but older.  I would say the lady was in her 30's. As I was standing on the porch I could see the inside of the house.  The lady had four children and a husband. The children were sitting in a circle with their Halloween candy on the floor.  As the lady was putting the candy in my bag my mom said, “Margie we have to start going home.”
     The Lady looks at me and said, “Oh my name is Margie too.”
     I opened my mouth wide with a surprised look on my face. As I turned toward my mom the lady said, “Trick or treat this is Halloween in the year of 1982. I am you in the future. Surprise!”
-Margie Taylor                                                                                                                        (October 31st 2012)

THE WHITE COATS by Kathan Murphy

There are deep holes in the gates of my mind. 
Delusions and hallucinations sneaking through; 
Causing me fear and pain. 
Please something help me through. 
Black figures with sticky hands and feet crawling around me and creeping in. 
They are here to take me away. 
I have to fight them! 
But how? 
The thoughts consume me chipping away at my inner soul wearing me down. 
I am sick of fighting. 
The black figures turn into doctors in white coats. 
They tie me down repeating my trauma and stick me with a needle. 
I am no longer a human but an animal barely existing behind locked doors. 
Life is no longer worth living.
-Kathan Murphy

AT THE CRACK OF DAWN by Kathan Murphy


I have never seen the crack of dawn.
My meds make me sleep too long.
My sheets and blankets are so warm I could sleep through a party at a loud college dorm.
Clozaril is my nightmare best friend but my madness is on the mend.
I am strong but unfortunately sick.
I try hard to make the best of it.
This illness is tough but I am tougher.
One day I would like to take a job offer.
People said that I would never leave the hospital but I proved them wrong.
No one is allowed to right the lyrics of my song.
I left Massachusetts to start a new life.
Maybe here I will make a good mother or wife.
Moving to Chicago was the right choice.
Here is where I will find my own voice.
 
                                                                                           -Kathan Murphy