Madison has a brother named Jesus who knows well the sound of her voice,
she does not claim to have the all the answers but does her best to act kindly,
she is not intimidated by the many different beliefs and in fact does rejoice,
she respects those who question their faith instead of following them blindly,
ask your own questions, seek the answers and make your very own choice.
Her lily white ass can sell paper poetry at night on the South Side of Chicago,
she’s decided to see if her caucasian self can also get laughs sometime,
comedy in East St. Louis on a beautiful day she frees her mind of shadow,
it can feel painfully overwhelming and so beautiful all at the same time,
her imperfect life is better than bad because the big picture is her tableaux.
Her new girl crush at the gym can’t believe she’s almost forty five years of age,
if she ever switches sides she knows where to go to quench her first female thirst,
her just fine fine young trainer gets to get her worked into a damp sweaty rage,
yet she grows more spiritual and less religious as she becomes more immersed,
our Universe is an energy force and we are all part of the body that is our cage.
It’s hard for her sometimes to not write long, depressing and sad status updates,
she goes away reluctantly and comes back later when the dark mood abates,
she is often amazed that some dudes ever get to where someone else awaits,
because they’re constantly looking backwards at the booties that frustrates,
all that matters to her is that her nipples still point forward when she masturbates.
She can’t get enough of Dick in a Box while wishing she could become more undressed,
she couldn’t have imagined sitting down to write her first piece seven years ago,
now poetry isn’t a hobby at all to her and in fact it’s sentence to pain and survival at best,
she often wonders about the massive amounts of pain people are carrying below,
we’re just one big family however dysfunctional with poetry emanating from the West.
dead beat poet 
