24 07 2011

This was written by a beautiful young women that I know.  It might seem current, but actually it was written in the summer of 2008, after the poem’s author first heard Ms. Winehouse’s <em>Back to Black</em> album.  It’s a moving piece and quite prescient.


Purple half-moons under frenzied eyes
Heroine chic, thin is in
Pasty skin
Smokey, come-hither echoes
From vocal chords.

Long, drawn-out bellows
Ghostly cries of love
Agony, ecstasy
Head bowed in worship
To the white powder before your nose.

Like a thick black mass
Time oozes under the steel door.
Life bleeds out the crackled window.
Suffocation is near
Tattooed bodies strewn around.

Inhaling cigarettes and salty gin.
Fame in four-inch pumps
clicking on the stage
Slurred words rolling.

Ebony hair piled beehive high
Spread your soul on the clean green grass
Daddy’s wringing his hands
Mommy’s done holding her cry.
Their toddler left the crib

And is running toward the lake.




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