General Poetry posted December 5, 2017

This work has reached the exceptional level
Written in Chicago doing the beat clubs 1963

Another Jackie O

by easyeverett1

The Story:

ragged faded
lady hoarder,
diva boarder,
dancin' to the tune
of her Dandelion Wine.

milky-eyed maiden,
peddles paper posies,
masticating carnivore,
toothless, useless whore.
not on her best night!
not anymore!

acclimated alleyways,
rodents without fear,
muddle-minded Faustian ,
soul redeeming martyr -
thirty-seventh year.

The Memories:

broken boned beauty
forged in her mind,
conscientious duty
lost to time.

could have been
a skater,
rockefeller rink,
sooner came later,
locked and loaded link.

pride of Arizona,
class of sixty-one,
a devotee of luna,
loves her remy rum.

many bitter winters,
bitter winter winds,
sliced her like a knife slice,
bled her bone thin.

gave away her gravity,
in East L.A.
weighted down reality
roles she plays.

saddle-strapped sad hag
gone insane,
never gonna' lose
'cause she's never in the game.

always aware where the
light lays low to the ground
livin' in a clap-trap
jingle-jangle town.
runs for the shade
when the sun goes down;
safety in crazy,
crazy shades and shadow
hides her braided hair
and her Royal golden crown.

salts of lithium
took away her name;
doesn't even know now
who the hell to blame.

wants to be codified,
once and for all,
as prophets once prophesied,
another Jackie O,
with her hag-bag shop rags
ready to go.

time is always lazy for a lady goin' crazy;
midnight, brain-drain, middle of the boulevard,
ragged lady bag-hag, screamin' out her rage.

The Lady Speaks:

Hey you!
up there with your pixilated palindromes,
sippin' fresh-dipped sewer juice
and french champagne - you blue-blooded, high-borns,
listen to the tale that I wail at you.

i'm a sack-cloth, busted, shackled crusted scab,
gonococcal wet-brain - slippin' on the ledge
of pain on pain, while livin' on the edge
in the whorin' pourin' rain. God died, I cried,
I'm lookin' for some gain.

leave your flush plush penthouse high-flying life;
see your bleedin' sister, see your bleedin' wife.
that's right, once a wife, mother to your kids.
your kids are gettin' shifty, siftin' on the street;
private school, brittle-veined, maggot-tagged gods,
waitin' for the reaper with the universal odds.

i'm brain-drained, insane, dissipated plain,
a bucket full of truth even Jesus wouldn't claim
so crucify your comfort, your gentrified name,
then bring it to the street, bitch, let me see your shame.

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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