Monthly Archives: April 2013

RAP IT TIGHT by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I never got respect that I didn’t have to earn

I never met a gangsta that I didn’t wanna burn

I always get the money

I never cut no slack

got knuckles in the glove box

and a Glock tucked in the back

 

down in East Kentucky where the coal mines are

if you’re down to find some trouble, you won’t have to look far

there’s pill mills, meth labs, and trailer park trash

dive bars and storage units full of dirty cash

better take a Ruger and a thirty-ought-six

some dealers are jumpy and full of cute tricks

never go down past the tracks late at night

and never bring a shank to a gunfight

 

always look at the money at the bottom of the stack

keep it real, do the deal, and never look back

they damn well better fear you or you won’t last long

so keep your swagger up and your hustle strong

bring it, feel it, do it up right

hustle and flow it and rap it tight


SOUR MASH BLUES IN SLIDELL, LOUISIANA ( ROOM NO. 9 ) by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I’ve built a wall beside myself

to keep others safely distant

your lies still dig inside me

both numbing and persistent

you cast aside your virtue

and left without a thought

it’s easy to dismiss it now

as a lesson harshly taught

it’s strange how things unravel

how quickly we can fall from grace

you once soothed my withered heart

with the solace in your embrace

 

now, when I get a little money

I just spend it on myself

no one cares to know me

I take my comfort off the shelf

it’s a cold, hard type of lonely

I wish no other man to feel

it’s a silent, sweet despair

that’s both stark and yet, surreal

 

I will often hear her laughter

as women pass me on the street

but their eyes don’t have her twinkle

and their kisses aren’t as sweet

now I sit here with my whiskey

in a cheap no-tell motel

gripping tightly to the bottle

lest I slide down into hell


HER WAY OUT by Jeffrey Littrell

 

the only answer
is that
there are no answers at all
no karmic justice is done
what goes around
just keeps right on going

things just are
until they aren’t anymore
or in her case
they never fucking were at all

she locked the door
she knelt in front of the bathroom mirror
by the filthy toilet,
and shuddered
at the metallic taste in her mouth
it was somehow easier
than she envisioned it would be

she lay still
and small
the blood pooled and congealed
on the linoleum floor
finally, she wouldn’t hurt anymore
she was free from her torment, yet
all she did
was pass it on to me


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