A Whore's Shoes

Wow, it's been a minute since I've posted a blog, but I've been working hard. My debut cd is about to drop and of course we have to remember my book. So I thank you for even reading this blog to begin with because it truly means a lot. So what's next of me? Bigger and better things is all I can say. I've spent some time really thinking about careers, on any level. Why do we grind so hard? Especially, for those of us who have double lives, by day we are teachers, accountants, nurses...and by night we are singers, poets, artists. The only way I've known to deal with an issue is to write about it. So read it, share it, leave a comment, and spread the word. Even though I've been under the radar; I'm always writing. Prophetess never quits.



A Whore’s Shoes

She was searching
Working hard to create
Never realizing she
Was using her pussy
To define her
And the only thing she birthed
Was indifference

Late night stalker
Exchanging blow jobs
In dark halls

Ditching grad school
For night calls

Changing her wigs a second job
And this to simply please her john

Anyway you want it daddy
And she learned this from home experience

She grew up hoping she could
Change the world
A good girl

Hoping to one day carry a briefcase
Wear a navy pinstriped suit
Walk in late
The head of the meeting
And say call home it’s going
To be a late night

Instead she files skirts
Stacks condoms instead of post-its
Leave paperclips behind because
Fishnets come in every color

Keeps the clinic alphabetically behind mama
Cuz every now and then she calls her for advice

Her nights are her days
And she walks the block
Until dawn crepts in to tell her
To count your cash and run

Run back to the moment where it all made sense
And the only thing you had to do was make sure
Your socks matched in the morning

Run back to the moment
When cotton candy was what you ate
And not the name given to you by strangers

Or that moment when he told you
You were too pretty to be in school
I know another way you can make money

To that moment when your mama sang

What a friend we have in Jesus

Coming down the stairs
Sleep in your eyes
You mistook it for Jesus
And he was the first man to pimp you

A whore’s shoes are hard to fill
Cuz she’ll do 16 hours in
Thigh chain strapped 5inch
Patent leather high heels

& not once will she complain
Sleet, snow, or hail

She’ll stand in spot
Waiting for one cock
To get her rent money

And we laugh at her
Talk badly about her
Spit on the place she walks
Because it ain’t that hard
To get real job

We act like she
Wants it
Like a pothole
She fell in and not sure
She got all of herself out
Some her was still there broken
And battered
Desire was too the left
But ambition was in easy reach

Rules said get the American dream
So she did the American dream
To get a taste of his life

Yet we complain
Waking to alarm clocks
Or the babies’ cries
The cat knocking shit over in the kitchen
And the dog who we wished would walk itself
One damn time

We work that 9-5
Wearing a 3 piece suit with stilettos
Wear sneakers to the train rub our feet
Cuz we got blisters

And damn girl, she got them too

But we don’t hoe ourselves
When every career fair is
A pimp maker
Cuz CEO’s don’t do the job
You do the job and they get the credit

And we don’t hoe ourselves
Yet we do overtime for a little bit of change
To buy something a little bit better
Than what we had yesterday

And we don’t hoe ourselves
Cuz if we don’t work we don’t get paid
And like her we get laid-off
Cuz that trick won’t always be new
And your performance at 35 won’t be the same a 62

A whore’s shoes
Ankle strapped
Or knee high
See threw bottom
Bright pink
Shiny metallic
Leather
Gold emblems
To match her attire
And we wear a scarf we don’t need
That has a hint of the color from the shoes

We want to wear that day
We look our best
To do our best

When inside we know
We should’ve left
Filed a pink slip
Said fuck it
I don’t need this shit

She cried the same tears
handed you a tissue on the train
Listened to you say
You’re worth more than this
She felt that pain
But wanted you to feel better

At the next stop
She rose
Complimented your
Ribbon lace up leopard print heels
And said she had the same pair

A whore’s shoes are being redefined.