With eyes tinted of a Crown Royal hue
That I Sipped from
Inebriated kind of glance
That copiloted her penetrating stance
Finally I blink, Soaked with curiosity
I try to Shake it Off like a Wet Dog
But alas, my attention grasped
Without hands, and no ring on hers
Yet still she jabbed me into surprise by a
Passionate Passive Aggressive gaze
That represents a taste…
I shy away from the Magnetic Stares
An Elevating Force
That may take me to a smothered place
Rumored where lovers vacate
When life becomes mundane
This is a Tale from Prey
A Pray Tale, per se
She’s …a Predator
Killer Bank Account
She’s Loaded, Aiming…for me
Her Trigger Squeeze is precise
Her technique is designed
To make my Love Bleed out
That’s what she seeks from this Young Meat
Woman of many Dreams, not a Kruger
But a Cougar, and she’s Hungry
Let me mention that the Time in her Hourglass frame
Explosively, she’s fine, physically
Cougars don’t Fly
But mentally she’s in the Skyline
While I build my Noah’s Ark
Amongst this Flood of Thoughts
Yea, she’s a Wise Wine
My kind, a Sophisticated Taste
Flavorful Words, we Brew
In a Stew of Dialogue
Emotional Simmer, gave me the shivers
Her Inner Light was familiar
Reflecting on her Spirit
Was like speaking to a clearer mirror
“Have we met before?” I implore
Was explored by her Erotic Intelligence
Mind Fucking me Raw
And like Two Guitar Strings
Consumed by her Ego
So I’m Stroking hers
With spoken words
Till I slur into a wake-less blur
She’s touching me without permission
What’s her mission?
I’ve met bold women, but she’s bolder
Or maybe my erection was harder than one
I don’t know but I notice
How she unclothed my emotions
Lips massaging my shoulder
Over and over
And over to my chest
My breath weighs a ton
About as much as my eyelids
Pants are falling down
Too weak to get up
I look around, sucking sounds
Fill the air, I Blackout
Confused, this does not compute
And like the jazz serenade that colored our space
Till I awake, feeling the breeze of time
It blew me into a long stay
Mind alarms me that I need to escape
Dressing slowly, I fasten my pants
Toe Tapping towards the door
Of my car, pedal Hits the Floor like a Shoot Out
Speed limit is 45
The same number of thoughts that race past
Bumping into my Face like Acne
Recollecting events, the suspense
Is venomous, it paralyzed me in confusion
“Was it a dream? An illusion?”
“Where’s my wallet?”
Back pocket, checked it
To my surprise it was Pregnant
With money I’ve never seen
Bulging with a few G’s like a Mafia Movie
I gasp; breathe
“What I have done? What did we say?”
Phone illuminates, it sings
Text message is on the screen
“Thank you for tonight! You were amazing”
“See you next week – heart, heart, wink- smiley face”
…To be resumed
^^^First off…wow….she’s beeeeaaauuutiful. The shape of the eyes, her hair, her skin tone, and her fabrics. Seeing the subtitles really makes this disheartening…which sets the tone for this post.
I was absorbed in a jaw-dropping, eye-widening documentary called Whores’ Glory by Micheal Glawogger. First off, I applaud the director for being so objective and unbiased. There’s balance in the movie. There’s no nudity until the end, and the focus seems to be the testimonies. It can’t be easy to extract so much information on such a popular topic. Next, I love how all of the commentary was from those being interviewed – it gave the film more realism without added explanation, and created a closer relationship with the topic.
So, I was scanning through Netflix seeking something refreshing to the senses – something that would give me a different type of pulse. Then, I graced across this documentary which begins with the prostitution culture in Bangkok then curves over into Bangladesh, and then finalizes in Mexico. I stamp each reality as captivating yet nostalgic. In some places, like Germany, prostitution is just a regular job with occupational hazards. In others, it’s the consequence of coercion and poverty. While the director didn’t give clearer distinctions between the two, he still captures the oddities and the business-like ambiance. It’s eyebrow-raising to see the blend of religious beliefs with the profession; maybe because it’s unexpected. This reality seems to be spoiled with controversy, but it’s sensible. When you’re in the trenches of such obscenities, you’d seek to solidify it with a foundation of morals rather than a quicksand pit of chaos. Observe their living conditions that overshadow their dreams and you witness the boisterous cues of a scuffle for survival. You still notice the hints of humanity in this murky realm – one that seems to be the bastard of a patriarchal society. This reclusive community provides a service that’s enslaved to scorn and shame. Yet, all the while the women are abandoned as they supporting each other. There are even traces of a stern, elderly mother-type acting as a beacon of wisdom to stabilize the frustrations of the women. She counsels them. She nourishes them with soft-spoken, harsh truths. She hugs them, rubs their shoulders, and wipes their tears. And after receiving some revitalizing compassion, they’re shunted back on stage – one that assumes the form of a prison. Some of these stages are elongated concrete boxes with transparent windows. And in them are dolled-up beauties with assigned numbers pinned on their chest. Some of these stages are crumbling hotels, while others stomach the resemblance of actual prisons. Certainly, the dystopic environment invokes depression as you witness these women showcased in the standardized materialist fashion. Displayed like merchandise as clients shred them into objects of pleasure with their razor-sharp, lusting eyes. However, there’s a low tone of dignity and respect. There are rules. There is a self-preserving philosophy branded in the hearts and minds of these women.
He’s purchasing a few minutes of pleasure with the body, not your soul.
Most whom are intimate with this industry know what love is; furthermore, they acknowledge a higher power. The center of this entire schematic is money: the main ingredient which offers bittersweet zest. Each girl cradles their own ambitions and fantasies. But in the other palm rests the uncompromising weight of barter for their bodies for survival. You hear personal accounts of the types of clients they encounter. Some speak with a light dew of remorse about their production numbers: 1-5 clients a day. Others flaunt their production numbers ranging between 15 to 20 clients a day; and they express this proudly. But these are old numbers spurting from older women reigning in their forties. The struggles of a has-been litters in all professions, it seems. As a surprise to some, it is common for these women to have boyfriends and husbands who are very aware of their discouraging job. This suggests that the local economy lacks jobs to supplement better living. Some families are pressured into this form of servitude with burdened mothers selling themselves…or their daughters for a year or more.
The clientele incorporates a plethora of men of various ethnicities and races whom express their reasons in partaking in this forbidden fruit. Few speak of sexual abandonment from their spouses, while the majority concisely strut their insatiable sex drives and their infatuations with bizarre erotic acts that girlfriends refuse to charter. The prostitutes expound on the personalities of their clients exposing the educated and uneducated, the wealthy and poor, the gentlemen and the assholes, the family guys and the bachelors, the boyish virgins, and the experienced seniors. We can imagine the many pains that come with delivering service. The girls protested how some d!cks are too big in girth and length, how others are flaccid (which means more time spent with the client than desired), and some take too long to orgasm. Some men come in drunk and reek of cigarette smoke that’s as stale and harsh as their attitudes. Some are fat, some handsome, and some with missing limbs. The women were very blunt in expressing their philosophies of the business, which are very comprehensive if you permit them. I empathized with all of the elements of this machine: the prostitute, the client, the passerby, and the attendants (somewhat like a salesperson/pimp – they get commission for sealing the transaction), and even the beautician. There was even a thrust of awe when I observed that this profession was indiscriminate towards males as well – barboys are what they’re called in Thailand. Some of them are gay, while others are bi-sexual. Yet they share a common platform of being handsome, clean, warm-hearted, and professional. All of these real-life personalities….enchanted in this net of unapologetic commerce. And then we have the spectators….us….in the bleachers….blasting cold-shouldered fouls and divisive commentaries; adding our ignorance to this concoction of sugary-staleness. We say things like “I’d rather die than resort to this level of existence” or “you’d never catch me in living like that” as we chase our toxic judgments with socio-economical and religious rhetoric. Some of us would even jeer and joke about the reality as we rest securely in our own. It’s easy to speak about a solid reality from a faint, moist realm of imagination. Yet, when you’re under the lens, and you’re imbued in their circumstances, your motives become slightly warped. Environments inspire character. It’s similar to being incepted into a dream. You’re teleported to an unknowable location surrounded by stimuli, and above all, you’re seeking to fulfill an unrealized purpose. It seems that there are more ways to die than there are ways to live. The odds lay a barrage of punches which corner you into the crevices of this business. Either you choose to submit or you keep fighting aimlessly in hopes to discover yourself as a victor.
Most of us would rather take a beating from the odds than to surrender….
Let’s keep in the forefront that prostitution retains a competitive nature as any business. It’s easy to get in the game when you’ve networked with the right people. It’s hard to leave when you have nowhere else to go as most of the prostitutes have murmured. A spectator could assume that their souls have been sold, but a businessperson would correct that assumption – materials are sold; a soul cannot be.
The prostitution business is the trafficking of human sexuality for money; and this opaque depiction of organized carnage is justified by causality. Whether you’re religious or educated, you’ve gained a whiff of knowledge about the historical imprint that prostitution has made in religious scripts and social studies. In Bangladesh, one guy explains that the absence of the local brothel would pilot the men to the point of raping the women due to their enslavement to desire. Other options are homosexuality and bestiality, which are actually taboo worldwide. He furthers the justification by saying that it provides a service especially for the families who have no other means to provide for themselves economically.
I ponder: would the collective’s existence be better if the matriarchal order was enacted? Many writers, historians, and anthropologists would say yes, since the Paleolithic Era held women in higher esteem than men. Men were deemed as interchangeable workers and seed-providers, while women crafted technology and art. Sounds like a reversal to me. But I’m digressing here. The intention is not replace consequence with a scapegoat. This is actually just a call for compassion, and maybe even appreciation. Maybe this call may inspire our triune selves to love each other a little more with less judgment…..at least for a couple of weeks. Maybe it’ll incite more judgment…(shrugs)
Personally, I’ve even had a first-person experience as a customer. I speak that with little shame because I’ve accepted the fruits of the decisions that led to the experience. I know what I did and why I did it. I remember even paying for sex and just engaging in conversation (and friend of mine was like “pfft…only you would do that!”) because I knew how cold this business is. I won’t cast this off as a decision of stupid youthfulness. I dove in with intentions, and I surfaced with a deeper compassion for women in this profession….and the consumers who support it. Most could say “John you could’ve done better”….and I could’ve done worst; it all depends on who’s measuring, anyway. No regrets, here; and I speak that proudly.
This documentary acted as a reminder of how enslaved we are to corporeal desire as we excavate the material world of resources to new limits of profanity and profoundness. The dreams of others create nightmares for many who endure an indefinite life sentence of antagonism.
How uncanny it is to love money till you reach the finish line of exchanging it for the love that you lost….and the love that you never had
For the love of money, but for the will to survive….how deep are you willing to go?
Ultimately, I just wanted to recommend this documentary for anyone interested in something a bit more dark, real, and extreme. Lemme know your thoughts if you’ve watched it (110min). My next movie will be the 2nd of the director’s three-part globalization series titled Workingman’s Death. A reviewer claims that it will make you more appreciative of your job as it expounds on the limits one would push in order to earn income.
I’m not an economist, a bureaucratic guru, nor am I a political expert; truth be told I didn’t even vote in the last election (I hate politics!). But, I do reserve some love and respect for Obama. However, I am a U.S. Army Veteran, a U.S. taxpayer, a father, a son, an African American, a poet, an MC, and I am a compassionate human being with many other titles. What does this have to do with the 2011 Government Shutdown (which is/was not official as of 7 April 2011)? Quite a bit; it means that I have an opinion! So, of course I’m going respectfully lay down my $2.25 as a charitable donation to infamous “public opinion” that the U.S. government values so much.
And take note, that the value of this $2.25 is subjective to the individual. You know…inflation and sh!t, since the American dollar has little or no backing anymore. (deep sighs)
Since I’m over here in Kuwait, and I don’t watch much television nor enslave my eyes to newspaper articles, I have to rely on my Facebook friends, local word of mouth, company-provided car radio, occasional emails, and my God-inherited, psychically channeled, intuition for worldly news. On April 8, 2011 (Kuwait is 7 hours ahead of America – ya’ll were still in April 7, 2011), I discovered through a few of my friends (and an Facebook event invitation called “Ensuring Pay for Our Military Act of 2011”) that Congress has been debating on a new budgeting plan in order to lowering the perpetually growing federal deficit. (pause)…it’s been decades and they’re still doing this? (Deep sighs – patience) And if you didn’t know, our government has had a long marriage with this deficit. It’s sort of like the wife that was once the finest thing in a town of 40,000 people, but then she got unfathomably huge within a 10-year time span. Well, multiply that by 20, and you get the woman we have today which we call “the national deficit”.
And lemme tell ya, she is not that pretty thang that all the peeps used to trip, fall, and dirty their pants legs for.
Since our “government” is legally bound (and when I say legally bound, I mean married) to the national deficit, they’re gonna do whatever it takes to preserve the relationship; for better or for worse, remember? And by preserve, I mean “lower her weight”….which is about 14 TRILLION!!!
….Dollars that is.
A very short history lesson is in order. Between 1775 and the new millennium, the government accrued a 7 trillion dollar deficit. Metaphorically speaking, Mrs. National Deficit was unspeakably large, due to a high volume of government spending. Then she gained another 7 trillion within 10 years!! GODDAMN! I know folks was like “how…what did….aw hell naw! This is ridiculous. Now who doubles their weight in shorter time like this?! Dayuuum!”
This spending of course couldn’t have occurred without the help of our banks, whom loan the money. And of course, our banks gotta make their money too; that’s right folks… “interest” (cha-ching). And the more money loaned, the more interest accrued; and the more interest accrued, the higher your debt! So the government owes money; and since the taxpayers (American citizens) give the government so much power to manage the money that they take from them, the people are susceptible to the whims of its government – Almost like the Libyan Rebels are to Muammar Gaddafi. Eventually, you’ll fight back, but then of course…the government owns all of these entities that are highly trained to calm your ass down. In this instance, Kanye West’s song comes to mind:
No one man should have all that power!!
And no one man does, it’s a large group of men (and women) having an orgasmic orgy within this organism called the government, which supposedly exists FOR the people. Often, we (the people) feel like we’re getting f*#&’ed more than they are when it comes to decisions that affect the masses. But that’s how relationships go sometimes. Anyway, I’m straying off, and I’m appearing to show some signs of resentment towards this often unsentimental political machine. I’m just having fun, don’t mind me.
Overall, the government creates this beast of a wife (Mrs. National Deficit), and has been trying to bring her back to her original state since the marriage started. But as problems affect the country, indirectly, it affects her. And when she’s affected, we’re affected because the government has a great love for her; they love her so much that they’ll tax the hell out of the American citizens who support her, and deny government funding to programs that support us. Including payroll to the federal employees who operate the federal facilities that support its people!
This past Sunday (April 3, 2011…I think), the media gods received word that Congress is opting for a Government Shutdown. I made a Facebook post regarding this travesty:
The politicians who MANAGE taxpayers money are denying federal services to taxpayers? Wow! My love goes out to the servicemen and federal employees who will be paying the politicians to CUT THEIR DAMN CHECK! Yea, that’s [a] righteous transaction of American commerce (sarcasm). And their [service members] paycheck is still going to reflect a federal and state tax deduction AFTER their pay is cut?!! (smh)….praying the shutdown flops.
Followed by a self commentary of:
Although I understand that this is a very difficult decision-making process, even personal budgeting is difficult; doing it for billions of people who depend on certain programs in order to sustain is a great responsibility. Every program can’t be funded if we are cognizant of our income. Shutting down (federally) cuts off revenue from billion dollar-revenue services, yet taxpayers still provide the federal government income?! That’s like telling your roommates (who contribute to household income) to not work until you (the head of household) can develop a budget [in order] for you all to live. These left and right wings are so stubborn minded with their political ideologies that they’re putting themselves in a corner; afraid [or unwilling] to betray their political views at the expense of families (scoffs). Lord, please gives us a resolution because a [federal] shutdown aint it
Each year brings its traumatic incidents. And this one is no exemption to chain of outrageous dramas that are being manifested. I truly do pray that a resolution is found. I’ve already heard reports of service members having a decrease in the pay from DFAS (the military’s payroll organization). Furthermore, while working at the yard (alongside with my military affiliates in digital fatigues), I hear that morale has already took an imitation of a Jackass Skydiver without a Parachute holding a 50 lb dumbbell. Morale in the armed forces is definitely singing Alicia Keys’ first hit single….Fallin’. I can imagine the same in the other federal service organizations. It’s commonly said that service members live paycheck to paycheck. So although those overseas (or within the continental US) will be accommodated (if you’re on a military installation), there are many debts/bills to be paid and bellies to be fed; yet what about those living off post? That means the housing allowance and the food allowance is gone, let alone the base pay. And I can’t quite imagine the creditors being compassionate about this circumstance – these folks are gonna want their money! On the other hand, they may be willing to extend payment dates until this issue is resolved. I can also imagine some sort of memo going out to the creditors to exempt these federal employees from payment. Sort of like an “I O U”. And again, not only is the military affected, but the policemen, firefighters, IRS, TSA, and many other Constitutionally-bound entities whose employees depend on federal funding to facilitate a living standard for their families. Yet, the government expects its “assets” to perform up to excellence? That’s borderline human trafficking right there! That’s pimping on another level!! Maybe I’m exaggerating. It’s only because I’m considering how unjust this is. The families contribute to this staggering American economy, and hence, this “shutdown” may damage the state of the country in more ways than one. I’m theorizing, of course, and there are obviously a lot of unknowns here, and often…the unknowns stir fear into the hearts of man. And when a man gets fearful, a man gets desperate. 800,000 jobs [poof]…as if the unemployment rate was making a change in direction. What about the military, firefighter’s and law enforcement’s families who depend on the taxpayers money to sustain as many other taxpayers? What does the government expect out of the economy when a large portion of American consumers are being held captive in this desolate realm of financial inactivity? You’re supposed to let the dollar circulate; let that shallow, bad boy breathe life into America’s commercial machine. A government shutdown doesn’t grant the flexibility, nor does it buy time. Money has got to shift. Currency requires a bit of a flow; and this move is going to place some black holes in the already crumbling economical foundation of America. The butterfly effect does apply ya know? And why don’t the politicians receive any personal financial burden from this decision?
One thing is certain, a decision will be made, and there will be martyrs. Will it be the American people or Mrs. National Deficit? <<< She plays a major part of this problem ya know. I don’t think this so called “power move” will benefit the government. If they need time to form a budget that should’ve been formed decades ago, then they need to maintain their pace, and target other areas of lucrative spending. What’s the true agenda of our American government? Questions…answers….beef….chaos. One will lose their hair in the ambience of all of this stress. So the question is Americans….
Should the government continue to Pay out to its federal entities and rake in some dire revenue, or should they call a platoon halt in hopes to conduct a federal reset in budgeting? What are your thoughts?
By the way…I did mention I’m not an economist so, bring me up to speed if I misconstrued some information.
Last thing….keep the change… $