Open for Pain


Greasy your hands

Impatient are your glands

Potions corruptedly mixed

Smoldering shooting star nixed

Forgiveness nowhere in sight

Forbidden pleasures torturous fight

With x-ray vision

Only glancing no longer the mission

With every bend

Oblivious to how you offend

Take care and yet beware

Of every silent hyena’s stare

Sugar is gold becoming honey

Sap spread and the shot is money

Underneath your clothes

Bears an unopened rose

The bees will not sting

Until the joy you bring

And like a happy bird

You sing the way they all once heard

What a blow to the ego

When you are a no-show

But with each attempt

More coins are pimped

But when you pimp the limp

Who then becomes the wimp?

The Queen who rules the 24 hours

Even headless you have the powers

And though you give face

This is but a taste

Of the pleasures

And treasures

That satisfy the measures

Upon salacious pressures

Where are they

When you want to play

Or have one stay

Until the end of May

Cause that’s when all springs

Turn to hay

And the day

Will come

When the mighty sum

Gives you the thumb

Chasing you from the beat

And off the heat

Before you are covered with the sheet

That turns the biggest trick

Of no longer keeping you sick

Cause that’s when all springs

Turn to hay

Blessing you with all pain brings

Every time your smarts you lay

Awakening

Forsaking

Shaking while

Making it just for the taking

Take care and beware

Of every Greek hyenas lair

Before you chase your hair

Away from all that is fair

Cause that’s when all springs

Turn to hay

Beating at your door with pain it brings

Will your voice pray

Before or after the dues they pay?

Is not a Muppet

A puppet?

No matter how you tuck it

Someone’s hand has to stuff it

Unclean hands

Spoil the glands

Enraging fans

In the stands

Be it woman or man

So can you take a stand

And be diamond grand?

Cut, color, carat

How long can you grin and bare it?

 

Oh, Church is just a Fashion Show


Grand words

Statements are made

As they enter the doors

To hear the Gospel spread

A nod

A glimpse

Even from the preacher

while his wife sits close by

Gawking with jealousy

Orchestrated Amens

Applaud the podium

For attention

He knows

 who he wants next

White bears no sign of purity

just eagerness

to be eager

The sermon is so clear

as to who is to fear

Prepped to lay low

Oh, the Church is just a fashion show

A dress rehearsal for

the horn to blow

So the designer will

have his due fill

for the ears hear his skill

and tilt the till

Come see the Garden of Eden

bend Saville Rowe

while his wife sits by

and dare to show

just how often the blood does flow

It compels them all

To take the fall

Next Sunday is

Swimwear

And boys

rest high in banana hammocks

 and toys

and pretty things like socks