She’s sea-sick from the flow of the current condition
Gravity’s swift whip-around-the-sun- trip
Apple bottom jeans gettin’ lower than a snake-pit
Nitty gritty twitter critter jitter bugs to a drumbeat all her own
Ain’t no quitter, fo’ sho’ bitter, gettin’ thinner to the bone
Nervous diva draws the heater, voice and demeanor icy cold
Rat-ta-tat-tat. Four to clean ‘em.
Release a fifth to spray the dome with a lonesome ticket
On a packed black train to that deep, dark place where sinners roam
As we crossed the bloody river, Phelegethon,
It was apparent she had been cast beyond the sixth.
Now immersed in the boiling tributary, she was making her way to the seventh circle’s second tier;
She had graduated from wrathful-to-violent, from sullen…to dead.
Here she will know the ultimate settling of scores.
As we move on,
Pimps crack whips at weak, easily addicted women
Society generally just lets this shit happen
Authority spread to thin to care or make a difference
Thirty dirty flirtin’, hurtin’ workin’ girls marchin’ on sixty feet that they don’t own
They call the same pimp “daddy” on fatherless boulevards and broken roads
Fraudulent men promise breakfast in bed but only offer them dry, burnt toast
They keep the butter, baby…for themselves…
To mask the taste of bitter souls, but all it does is lube the path to hell’s winding, binding coves
How do these men fake such power in an hour when honor is needed most?
Suspended in limbo would be a privilege, I am reminded -
Accompanied by a weight so heavy no guide can measure, nor direct.
Reaching for my compass, my world turns upside down; and as we descend Lucifer,
From toe-to-wingtip, nearly as deep as hell allows;
My heart beats louder than all the screams of Judecca
- MIC THA POET
