Analogue (a poem by Jack)

Analogue gal in a Digital World..

Woman, who art thou..

Queen, God, mother, daughter, lover, whore…a real bad bitch..

Her nectar spreads so thick, and taste so sweet.. How can one entity wear so many hats..

The ruler of men, yet men’s whole frame of existence is to lock her down, keep her chained within a role..

A whore must be a whore and nothing more and nothing less– you can’t fathom the thought of a whore being your savior…But she is and she was because she’s free and it was her choice..

analogue gal in a digital world, with a frequency from the infinite.. she traverses a narrow path, alone without trepidation but with skeptical pride.  Skeptical Pride…

But we can’t define her, she must know her past, she must know in order to transform… She is of the people that’s how she can lead the people… Analogue Christ…

Crowns of thorns, lashes of disgust, The scarlet letter tattooed right across her upper thigh, as she provides suductive dance of eroticism… 

Can you judge your saviour without judging yourself… Can you know your saviour without knowing yourself?  As the world turns so does she, as her mind opens so does her child, as the children grow so goes the world.  So who truly will save the future?

Analogue gal in this Digital World…

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