Open Incognito

#personaleffects

searching for personas

personally affected

by personal effects

left with bones of those

searching opportunity

only to have their

promises unfulfilled

by coyotes who

took their money

and ran

leaving them dry

their faces erased

by the wind and sand

blowing

on a desert that

holds no forgiveness

only their bones with

a ring

a toothbrush

a doll

a photograph

waiting for their names

I gave my first word

Away to my mother

And it was filthy

She made me

Lock it out of the house

After washing my mouth

With Irish Spring

My tongue hated

The taste of clean

Holmes was a dropout with a dream

Took in more than she could handle

Promised a blood machine

But instead she gave a scandal

She fed on fragile, old, white men

Who showered her with money

When she was threatened with the pen

She blamed her ex-lover, Sunny

She denied the bait and switch

Claimed failure was not a crime

Let’s eat the rich

I bet they taste sublime

Seen together

With his butcher

Stumbling down

Milwaukee Street

A brown boy fled

His butcher’s bed

And when they found him

He was almost dead

On his feet

On his wrists were

Handcuffs dangling

His destiny set for

Later strangling

There could have been

A rescue

When he ran into

The men in blue

But his killer

Undercover

Claimed he was

His lover

And cops claimed

They had no clue

To discover

So they sent

The poor boy back

To slaughter

All because they believed

In Dahmer

Seen together

With his butcher

Stumbling down

Milwaukee Street

A brown boy fled

His butcher’s bed

And was never see whole again

She was just a roadside distraction

Tom picked up from some run down

Auto shop from the Valley of Ashes

Wishing she was a phoenix rising

From the fire as she

Burned with desire

For some real good breeding

And he really wanted to give it to her

Like he gave it to his wife

Because he liked his material

Girls

Lavishly in love

With luxury and pearls

Always needing

But rich boys don’t marry poor girls

Had she known she wouldn’t have ran into the street

Where she was swept off her feet

By a delicate Daisy

Driving like a demon in heat

With a speed to match all greed

Leaving her to bleed

Like crazy

On that road where she became

A different type of roadside distraction

Sometime in the year 864

Lost was the

Remember that time Atwood fleshed

There was no escape clause

for his wandering eyes

He plucked his women like

Virginals

Instruments with a shaft

Resting on keys

Singing to their master

A production of his

Consumption

Looking to produce

A male heir for the monarchy

Not another girl

So onto another lady

In waiting

Their time with his words

Made flesh

Until flesh becomes

Stillborn

and him

Still searching for his

Queen

A baby making machine

To soil and sully

Until he is bored

With her bed

Then off to another

Head

Because there was

No escape clause

None at all

For the wives

Who lost their lives

Like poor Anne

Penitent and pure

Her neck

Long

Beautiful

Hanging

The twins got punched

With fists of steel

And  tears of screams

Came pouring out

Of their burning eyes

Glowing red

Smokey

And billowy black

Leaving a scar

On history

And a skyline that

Will never be the same

#skyline