Deadeye Constance iii

funny how honeys love fucking sucking for money
consider talking something to do for nothing
till broken and rotten stuck between Miami and LA
button shirts of drug dealing cousins who warned
working dirty dozen streets of the weak
will leave you bent as pretzel sticks just less sweet
how many ways can you slave for pay to say you did something productive today
able to spend it on bills
that make you feel like an adult not a member
of a cult of hippies shunning living
giving up what’s sacred to the god of love
shy away from societal crimes for the love of what was lost
bought with plots of soil to plant the seed of life
give us back our greener grass pastures
leaving pastors preaching to empty congregations
begging building houses for the lord
he needs his pick of places to stay when he visits the world
yet the earth is the Lord’s of course,
since he owns all these houses
till spouses stuck in pouting frownings
part ways to never say amen to lay men
who never made it in the world
but pour out their frustrations in the name of the Lord
who bore pains on the cross to save us all
so we can slave away another day
how long shall we go for broke to prove
that we are smarter than the next guy
playing the game of life
loving honeys who stop talking the moment the well dries
flies filling up what was once a feast
cups of wine poured down
the throats of the never quenching thirst
belching with heartburn heartache
protruding stomachs burning down
the sound of town with gas burped
pound for pound the biggest heavyweight
fight between mind and hand
who knows the plight of mans
stuck between saying thank you and trading time
for possessive possessions that own you outright
this loan is ours to lend to the borrower
who bends his will to say our rhyme
do our dance to the music of our sales pitch
pound for pound
the world’s greatest heavyweight bout
fought between the heart and the mind
who wins?

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