This was written by a young lady who is incarcerated.
"I'm the mackstress, I'm the mobstress, I'm the pimpstress, and I own you."
I came to this country with my momma, everybody calls her the "white girl". But you all knew I had a little something-something on me, because my outer was a little tanned. Southern folk called me a yellow gal. I've been out here in this world for a little while now, bringing madness and mayhem to man, woman, and child. You see my mother had several Lovers. So my Father's true identity has yet to be discovered. Some call him A-1 soda, others B-12, But all their seeds are incriminated evidence, as far as my conception goes. My mother, she was indeed good, But I am most powerful. Just ask those in corporate America about this mobstress. Most times I am as little as a pea, though my weight fluctuates. Size ain't nothing, cause I have enough game to make you steal from your momma, and call her out of her name. I can make her neglect her children, sell her body, perform dirty tricks and be called the neighborhood hottie. Everybody's a thief and a liar once they make my acquaintance. They are itching to buy my love. They lust for me, want to hold me, and test my purity. But it's only for a moment. You see, the ecstasy that I give you is only temporary but quite costly. I'm bossy from your very first encounter with me. I tell you, that you need me, got to have me, can't live without me. But peep, my game extends, it gets deeper. You see, my skill doesn't just pimp the weakminded. The so-called "Big Ballin'" brothers and obsessed with me. They kill, Rob, Plot, and Rat on one another to possess me. They see me as a goddess, the final path that will lead them out of the ghetto. But don't they know my mother and I were sent here to destroy, to entice, baffle, and trap them? Now just peep the cause of conspiracy to genocide. But what do you think? I mean, you make money off me while they pile evidence on you. Then get you to spend all the money you stacking on lawyers and bail bondsmen. They seize your property and worldly items that have you so caught up in this lifestyle. Material things that turn friends to foe, woman to hoe, and man to monster. Yeah, Blackman, you changed. But so what, cause I give you what you need. I give you power, make you feel invincible, Right, Partner? I make you feel like a big man, a timer. No matter how ugly, fat, or illiterate you are. I make the prettiest woman love you, fight over you, and compete with others to give you plenty babies. I make your relatives want to kiss your behind, treat you like a king, and roll out the red carpet, all the while they got one hand out for money, and the other hand with a pen in it so you can sign your life insurance policy. My existence makes you have that edge over the next man. It's all about me and the money, the root of all evil, the necessity to function in this society. I make all your gangsta dopeman stories interesting, because "You tha Man!" I mean, we listening while you speaking your murder tales, Menage a trois, homosexual advances, and secret romances. I'm 'bout it and make you feel 'bout it, 'bout it. I split family, I split friends, I split lovers, and even business partners, So you can nickname me CRACK. Ain't that something? I'm the reason why a lot of people are homeless, crazy, crippled, why they're HIV positive, or dead. But you still want me, feel the need for me to be in your possession, to get high off my intoxicating little pieces, or to spread my love for profit. Your even willing to kill or die for me. And even though my mother engaged in orgies for my creation, I still know my Father. You know him too. You follow his leads and work with him. You claim you hate him, but your actions are different from your tongue. Let's face it, you serve him faster than you do your God. We own you. And as far as the ones who sent my mother and I here to destroy you, we own them too. So after all my destruction, I must pat myself on the back. I am CRACK, the Devil's daughter, Human life and mind destroyer. And you need me. So go ahead and take a hit, or keep putting me on the streets. Please do that, help me kill you. I'm the mackstress, I'm the mobstress, I'm the pimpstress, and I own you.
Hoodlum Poetry, Food for your mind.
WAKE UP, DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND, IT'S TIME!
This Sister is in Prison because she got caught up, Please Don't fall into the same trap.
Comment by Pastor Ovella on December 7, 2011 at 6:34am
Comment by Lucinda F. Boyd on December 6, 2011 at 11:14pm
Comment by kelli kingston on December 6, 2011 at 8:35pm
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