Hardcore Diva

Shape an ego
from rat farthing city lights
and cage it in lament to idle styles.
My dick is such a worn out tool,
waiting for Tennessee Buddahs
and wives with flapping knives.

Wanted by
praise and envy,
obsessed fans
cigarettes
and tired looking prophets.

Tune in to appetite
to find me staring at you
from the mouth of a clownish corpse,
where dormice dare cross the landlord
and legends are born to coked brethren.
Falcons hack at their stoned eyes.

Feed the crooked cat
live rats,
bourbon and humiliation.
Watch its skull escape
like Houdini into freckled days.

Tie me scissors my darling
cut me into shape.
Pornography has me bloated,
a sexy bible blown my boots.
These are drugged visions on a rampage
firing up voodoo.
I cannot lose the blues
to poker playing cowboys.

Save me from
wicked trends
shackled tigers,
tinsel town
and lovers lane.
I am not a God,
I am prey to temptation.

This is hardcore,
this be a crumbling school
where fish mime to radio
and rock stars are born to lightning
on bathroom floors.
Needles bought from Tiffany's
like smoking pistols in their paws,
empty of the graffiti bruise.

Bury martyrs
where the sun shines for funerals,
and take their freedom
to use against addiction.
A holy diva lifts darkness
and fear disappears,
monsters don't live in the day.

Cafe princess
guide me to caffiene
and gold plated belly aches.
Lure me to vanity applause!
Tea from hookah pipes
shouldn't taste so good...

@Steven Francis Poems 2003