Dancing naked is only for stages

Private arrangements

And notebook pages

But sometimes I feel like a stripper

Like life is saying strip her.

An intoxicated mind

Eases the pain of crucifixion

While the hands of struggle carry me to suicide

Or make it rain.

The need for dollar bills

Uncover my desperation for survival

The United States is just one big natural disaster.

They HAARP

We Strings

Strumming and stripping

Dollar bills falling everywhere

The poor look down on the middle class

While the rich look back and laugh

Bc somehow they know with a clear view

Of the past you can bring it back to life.

In a democracy there is no such thing as right

Only the right to vote

those who do the right thing often get the right results

but it’s like choosing which hand you want to use to choke

I swing on poles of “I don’t knows”

Hoping positive platforms keep me on my toes.

Praying the next big spender will walk through the door

Take his seat in the oval office

Discuss my worth over khalua and coffee.

Meanwhile I must continue to dance

Our relation to socioeconomics is like a dramatic romance

Lure you in, step inside, turn you out, plant the doubt

You’re intuition can’t be proven

Promises of good behavior is soothing

Plus there is no real evidence of wrong doing

But Mr. President didn’t I give you the best head

Let you have the best of my head

can my intelligence possibly be more relevant than your negligence

If a mind is a terrible thing to waste

Then how does it taste when you licked my consciousness clean from the plate.

That American pie

Look me in the face and tell me a sweet lie

Bc it will keep me dancing.

I gather the strength to climb to the top

Of these I don’t know poles

Let my hands go

Use my thighs to control

The swing of my head

Back and forth

Trying to lose consciousness

Trying to ignore the fact that

The elephant in the room

Has a left and a right wing

Just keep swaying your hips America

Don’t listen to those silly things.

We gone have to resurrect MLK

Just for somebody to have a dream

Or is it just time to wake up

By the time we figure it out

I will have become a pro at

Swinging from the poles of “I don’t know”

Copyright 2010 Shelly Bell

Bowel lips excrete

foul mouths fume

blush flake covered reflections

gossip faucets flow

Nakedness revered as price

In here I'm safe

just woman

in tiny

tight

common clothes

wishing to tuck awareness

into tiny

tight

common corners.

Exotic hinges fling

Erotic latches click

Vanity swishes

destiny dangling from my tonsils.

seconds away from mockery

thoughts bouncing

off walls.

into my pocket.

The pleasure quarters are waiting.

This time it's worth it.

I enter as a starving artist.

I exit as a well fed harlot.