Friday, February 19, 2010


Keeping it real

Your poetry needs a pimp
to get its ass to the streets,
to make it work that shit.

What, you thought
you could write
something good
and it would just get read?

Well not here,
not now,
no way.

There's a long list
of players
you've got to play.

You better perfume that shit,
paint it up and shorten that skirt,
get it out there in the scene
and make it flirt
with all the happening scensters,
the king-turd, poetry freakers.

Yeah, your poetry needs a pimp
to make its ass look good
with stiletto heels,
to teach it the truth-
it's all about how
it makes the fat-cats feel.

You've got to put your name
in their mouths,
slide it around until it drips
from their lips
and they can't help
but pass it on.

Your poetry needs a thong
So that it will peak out
from its hot-pants
when it bends over to shake that ass,
'cause in this hood there are asses everywhere,
strutting their shit just like you,
willing to do whatever it takes
to get that break.

That's the reality,
the break down,
the truth-self-evident.
So if you want to keep it real-

your poetry needs a pimp.

-Jeremy O'Neal

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