Tuesday, May 15, 2007

LIQUOR STORE STICK-UP (A RAP IN OTTAVA RIMA )

1
Clerk counted the cash; made a time-lock drop;
Fingers tell him "take it" but legs won't walk.
Near closing time at the Liquor Quick Stop,
When a whore drags in off the auction block.
Orient eyes say for a pint she'll swap
Whatever he wants from her private stock.
Clerk's wife and kids home snuggled down in bed;
While down behind the counter whore gives head.
2
Out on the street they call her Miss Saigon-
Mouth and pussy hot as a naplam bomb;
A war bride's baby whose daddy moved on;
She learned sucky-fuck from her Viet mom.
Pro at 14; was a cop her first john,
Used to be a grunt in the Vietnam.
Caught, dealing dope, she stuck her ass up bare;
Said: Cop, take a shot with your ground-to-air.
3
Down on her knees showing silicone tit,
Once a soft touch now insensible brick.
Her cat scratch tongue and lips and hand don't quit
Till she's sucked him bone dry and slurped his thick.
Her eyes smile up, but stare in her obit;
Handbags got a gun but she ain't that quick.
Very last thought before she's bagged airtight:
White motherfucker got it free tonight.
4
Drags her in a storeroom; dick still erect;
He ain't felt this good since he left Art Tech.
Tops in his class at the Special Effect;
The Movies said: Genius, write your own check.
Too much, too soon, and he totally wrecked;
Lucky that his lady studied home-ec.
Then staring down at delirium's titty,
He saw his road back to living Fat City.
5
Props her in a chair; wrestles off her dress;
Steps back and whistles at his late night guest;
Thinks: Doc did her tits was genius, no less,
Carved Botticelli's on a silk thin chest.
He bends down close pets her pussy's recess
Knows it was trophied in the old time West;
Sets in to skin it with a razor blade;
Now he's got a pussy scalp custom made.
6
He weaves the silky pelt through his gold throat chain,
A spoil of war in the human skin game;
Been played like that since the Abel and Cain;
"Victim" is History"s immortal brand name.
Each against all for the capital gain.
Justified Sinners make the Halls of Fame;
Like Natural Born Scientists in Nobel guise
Helped "give 'em hell" Harry make Nippon fries.
7
Clerk only wants the American Dream;
Doesn't give a shit its history's obscene;
Doesn't give a damn who he's got to demean
To get his credits on the silver screen.
Thinks: a whore, no matter how it might seem,
Just ain't human- it's a vending machine.
He hurries back up front to shut the store;
Then cleans the "change" she dropped at Death's door.
8
Time to start work: he ropes her ankles tight;
Hangs her head downward from a ceiling pipe.
Then slits her wrists with a razor blade's bite-
Got to drain blood before she turns to ripe.
Splits her flat belly; spills her guts outright,
Swabbing out the hollow using Handiwipe.
Rub a dub dub blood and guts in a tub
Thinks: I'm halfway back to the Country Club.
9
Cuts her carcass down; folds back her new crack-
Butchered piece of meat got to be repacked.
Lugs out a carton of Maxi Pad Pack;
Soaks it in rum make a taste your last act.
A wino said it's like drinking shellac;
Just what he needs to hold her gut intact.
Just to make certain her neck holds her head,
He scoops out her brain places pads instead.
10
Sealed with plastic tape from her breasts to clit,
Hangs her up again with an I.V. drip;
Booze filled veins start to harden like her tit;
Thinks: what a shame he can't take a last dip.
Suddenly though from his brain's snake pit
Crawls an idea from a snuff film clip:
Hard, he cuts her down, shoves his closest kin
Up her "dinky" ass till rigor sets in.
11
Sits down in a chair with the whore on top,
One hand grabs tit while its brother hooks twat;
Her asshole squeezes till his eyeballs pop;
It's time to pull out but his prick stays caught.
Pumps her up and down but she won't co-op;
His dick is stuck fast up her asshole's grot.
The bump and grind makes his semen explode
Which acts the enema on her last load.
12
His dick slicks free slimied sticky stink brown;
Grabs his ground-to-air glad it's safe and sound;
Cleans up her pile, wahes both of them down;
Now to get her dressed, get her posed hardbound.
Wrestles on her mini- the street deb's gown.
It's meant to hook the interest that banks compound.
Rich debs sell it at "till death do you part;"
While a street deb peddles it a la carte.
13
Lifts her from the chair then sticks up her ass
A long-handled broom helps her stand steadfast;
He smooths down her dress, makes her up first class,
But he can't hide the truth that her eyes broadcast.
Dark glasses cover up what he's brought to pass;
Now one last trick to make his icon last:
From her short black hair to her feet high-heeled,
He spray coats his sculpture with Scotchguard Shield.
14
Like Greek Galatea she thrills his pride;
But now the myth's been Americanized:
She's no sex object; she can't be a bride;
She's American woman idolized.
He's gone extreme that's pretty cut and dried;
But he's just a man Americanized:
He makes his money any way he can;
And now she's a star in the store's floor plan.
15
Hidden in the racks of the best champagne,
One hand holds a gun, the other a frame.
(No stick's needed now to help her feign
A threatening pose in the clerks con game.)
She's turned toward the wall, "pardon-me's" are vain
So you rub on past this deaf and dumd dame;
Your heart almost stops when you see her gun
Then you get the joke and you poke some fun.
16
His agent came and looked; said "I'd swear it bleeds.
What you've done only genius could conceive.
You've made from trash a figure that concedes
The desperate life of a modern Eve.
The gun in her hand shows where it all leads,
If you don't keep them locked in make believe.
You're back on the Movies' Most Wanted List;
But dump the body, boy, just in case it's missed."

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