You know you're mixed and raised by your white side when you cringe during the Neil Young part of Sweet Home Alabama but, still to this day, turn it up when instructed. The props to the Swampers is so respectful that I almost forgive the racism. Ah, the fucking south. The Allman Brothers found the pulse to my orgasms. Brown and bright pink thinkin' about a dead bearded white man. The fucking bards! The Vikings and farm boys of yesteryear. This is my mulatto curse. Desire for the enemy. Happens beneath the full moon and for a week. Tranquilizers help. The Hillbilly who lets me taste but never bite. Found one so delectable and pure bred. Lost him to a tranny in glasses. Big head white woman. Meh. Never had him. Now I want to destroy all that is good in his world. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second. Unlike the perpetual wash that is my identity, race, sexuality, and bank balance.
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments - Click here to add a comment to this poem