if my pen were a surgeon's blade,
cutting edge,
razor-made
to excise secrets suppressed
in closets of guilt
or shame;

like the married bishop
with the mega-church and
tera-ego,
trading ****** fluids
with choir boys
in the 9th grade
on wednesdays,
after bible study...

like the senator
with two right feet
preaching chastity
while playing footsie
with perfect strangers
on public seat # 2...

like the donald's high-ranking apprentice
who pulled the plug on mc
as he slept
then wept like boehner
all the way
to morgan stanley and
dean witter,
allegedly...

like the mayor out west
with pinocchio's nose
and jefferson's zest
for extra-marital ***,
lies
and belligerence...

like the late king
of pop
who so hated
his beautiful black skin,
he beached it white
then paid m. lester
of similar hue
a loot times two
to weave a blanket,
conceive a prince
and deliver a french city,
allegedly;

I would be a lyrical surgeon
with a passion
for incisive prose,
spilling truths hidden,
whole and half
with the cutting edge
of a poet's pen

~ P (‪#‎Pablo‬#ls)

(8/14/2013)