American History Y

MISS TRUST

Mistrust is busy 
breeding fear 
looking over her shoulder into the mirror 
she’s taking the cash from the score 
to buy a piece that’s fully loaded 
as she leans down to snort
the line she’s been walking 
you can tell

she’s dangerous  

she’s got angel dust traces 
on the strands of her long black hair 
when you look at her she’s not even there 
she’s never cared 

she’s well-armed and long-legged 
she runs like flo jo and she’s all kindsa nasty 
janet doesn’t even know 

she’ll hurt you just to see if you’re paying attention 
she thrives on mutual misapprehension
she eats addiction and insecurity 
if she wasn’t bulimic, 
she’d be fatter than gini sacrimoni 
but yeah, that’s her throwing up in the toilet
she can’t keep anything down; she’s all upchuck
she’s the goddamned patron saint 
of the down on their luck teaching the 
dispossessed disenfranchised and desperate 
fifty ways to do anything for a buck 

sometimes she’s got nothing better to do
than listen in on your conversations 
take some of the words and twist
in a way that’ll stick you 
or give you a nice little nervous twitch

she lets you see the things you wish 
you didn’t know; she can take the smallest 
seed of doubt and just let it grow
she’ll have you seeing things that aren’t even real 
then she’ll get you second-guessing what she just showed you

she’s bold cold never seems to grow old

damn that bitch just needs to be told

she’s not welcome

but she’s on every guest list 
slides past every velvet rope
works for every agency 
she’s on every governments’ payroll

loyalty is her plaything
she uses her stilettos to drive wedges
between the bedsheets and the garden hedges
she’s got people standing on ledges
just looking at the view
she spends her days separating the me’s from the you’s.

she always flies solo – she’s got to
cause who would ride shotgun
for someone who spends their nights 
shooting out the lights in every emotional corridor
finding footholds in the homes of the rich and  the poor

we can’t seem to get enough of her

she’s invaded our hearts under cover of darkness
camping out to see the streams of endless red dawns
all she spawns is fear in all its deathly forms

I don’t like her

but she friended me right in my space
and now I can’t delete her
she’s always up in my facebook
leaving me comments written in disappearing ink
she’s got me clicking on links that lead to misery
it’s gotten so I can’t trust what I see

she put the carver in her top 8
just another disciple on her plate
cracking open every human interaction
to her machinations with no anesthetic
damn if she ain’t generic
ubiquitous as pavement
maybe that’s what makes her so dangerous
it’s hard to notice something creeping in
when it’s omnipresent

I resent it

keep taking her out with the trash
she keeps sneaking in the back door
like t2 she might just materialize up through the floor


I wanna strangle that bitch
but she’s too slippery
throw her in a ditch
but afraid she might drag me in with her
looking for a pail of water to toss to watch her wither
she’s got wicked witch written all over
but there’s no antidote that easy to this mis-quoter

I loathe her

wanna get rid of her once and for all
this kinda doubt has no place in my world
I’ma write her an eviction notice
get her thrown out the bar
shred her clothes to ribbons
have some joker steal her car

maybe it’s a kamikaze mission
all aggression and no defenses left
but maybe the only way to fight this terrorist
is with some good old-fashioned ghetto terrorism

she’s got nothing to lose
she’s got us tangled up in each other’s blues
so wrecked we can’t recognize what we’re choosing
she’s a pusher who’s got us all using

Mistrust
that bitch has got a monopoly
there’s gotta be some way to break her
but she’s always so damn busy.


Miss Trust

marilyn & lee

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, this piece came to me. It is about the power of natural forces overcoming the manmade world; and the wrath of the divine feminine.

Uraeus

Day of the Dead

From a performance at The Green Note in Camden, 2009.  (You know it's really London, cause I get introduced by the amazing and accented Jonny Berliner.)

E. Amato