Monday, July 30, 2012

Ten Dollar Girl

Ten dollar girl in a ten dollar skirt
Waving ‘em down on their way out to work
Cuz the freaks don’t just come out at night, you know
You’re always on the clock in The Life of a Ho

A car pulls up
She jumps inside
And takes him for a
Dirty ride
Emerging with
A new fat lip
And fresh belt marks
On legs and hips

But no one sees
And no one cares
She’s just a “Ho”
Who rents her wares

To men
Like her father
And his friends

You see,
If we go back 12 short years before
that day the world pronounced her a
WHORE
You’ll find a baby
Newly born

But 12 years can break a soul with scorn

So perfectly precious
The world at her feet
With so much potential
For a front row seat

But the truth never found its way
Into her heart
About who she was
And all she would impart

On a world that needed her gifts
And her love
But the lies won over
When push came to shove

Her mama never loved her
And made her aware
That if she disappeared
Nobody would care
“Button that lip
While I’m beating your ass!”
And Daddy just stares at the TV

And laughs

“That show sure is funny!”
And the volume is loud
On purpose - He’s chillin’
For cryin’ out loud!

5 years old
She sleeps on the floor
Night time
Brings the sound of a door
Opening
Slowly

A virgin no more

Innocence running down her legs
Never to return again
By 7 miserable years of age
She’s full of fear and captive RAGE
She dreams of dancing on a stage

Naked

For jerks who smell like beer and talk shit
“Come over here, sweetie and show me your tits!”
Her dreams now whittled down to
THIS

But one childhood is all we get
So by the tender age of 10
She’s been with far too many men
But who can call them men anyway?
Cowards are what I would say

But age 11 . . . That was the year
Her night in shining armor appeared
Tall, smooth-talker, singing his song
Three times her age & ten times as strong
He smelled her hunger
From miles away
It won’t take much to make her play
His game . . .

Flowers
Name Brands
And a few fancy meals
She’s loving the way
This guy makes her feel
She’s crippled by his tender
Embrace
Now she’s perfectly groomed
For that hard fall from grace

Not a shot in Hell
Not a hope
Nor prayer
When he tells her
“We need money . . . Dear”

She didn’t plan on this
Surprise!
He sees reluctance in her eyes
And makes her pay
Between her thighs

She won’t make that mistake again
And thus, her new career begins
Her title: “HO”
Her clients: YOU

That’s right,
I said YOU!
The pimps and the Johns
And the lawmakers too

The apathy-stricken
And those who will quicken
To condemn and to judge the used and abused
As though they were begging to be ill-accused
And shun a child who carries a shame
That belongs to a fool of another name

I’m talkin’ ‘bout YOU
The cops on the street
That treat them like a piece of meat

And neighbors on the brothel street
Who don’t report the things they see
And moms and dads who grave neglect
You set them up as first elect
For predators to leave them wrecked
For Life . . .
Is it over yet?

Doing “Life” at 12 years old
In ruthless heat
And bitter cold
When she should be goin’ to birthday parties
Doing homework and playing with Barbies

But she fell in love with a hustlin’ monster
Who did what good people don’t seem to want to
He told her nice things
And made her feel loved
And showered her with
Kisses and hugs
And gave her the things
Her poor heart dreamed of
Then

BAM!

It was over
Honeymoon no more
One day a child
Next day a whore
More lost and empty
Than ever before

Promises
Promises
She believes
She can’t afford to hurt
Or grieve
Last trick of the night and then she’s done
This makes number 21

Night falls on the busy street
Where friends and lovers come to meet
She watches as they walk on past
And hears a whisper . . .
“Free at Last!”

And Hope comes rising in her throat
Maybe one day
I can be like those people
Who walk past every night
And see no evil

But unfriendly eyes
Feed her lies
She swallows them whole
And they poison her soul

Those hypocrite eyes tell her
“Girl, get real!
You’re trash and nobody cares how you feel!”
They’re right, she thinks
I’m a Ho and so what?
At least I get paid for being a slut!
These squares on the street,
With their big fancy jobs and their big, fancy suits
They’re just big, fancy snobs!

They can keep their square-ass livin’
The street is where I wanna be chillin’
I don’t want to be no stupid bride
Having babies and jobs . . . and pride

She no longer feels human
Just a shell to be used
By an endless line of dirty old men
Just like her father
And his dirty old friends

Who use her up like a 50 cent condom
Then they go home and kiss the cheek of their daughters
One gets a kiss, the other ten dollars
“If that’s who they are, I don’t need no dam father”

Yes this is the glamorous, high-living world
Of a scandalous, criminal 12-year old girl...

Sunday, July 29, 2012

FLY . . . .


O Firefly, Bright Firefly
Please let me join your flight     
And cheat that bitter darkness
On the wings of Truth & Light

O Bluebird, Lovely Bluebird
When you perch so near to soul
I long to wear your cobalt shade
And sing in colors bold

O Butterfly, Sweet Butterfly
Don’t leave me far behind
Calling out in agony
To a world that’s deaf and blind

Just take me when the evening light
First shows her lovely face
Into the mystery of night
And leave no sign or trace


Of anything I ever was
And what little that remains
And dance me into vapor
Slipping softly from my chains