Shark Smack Redemption
In this corner
we have two junkies
(clutchin their insides,
achin for a fix)
And in this corner
a dealer and his flunkie
(carryin’ with pride
the primo mix)
Gentlemen
Come out bargaining
C’mon, Mister Bang
don’t keep us hangin
Last week was a deal
a downright steal
Yeah, that was last week
Now it’s changed
replies Mr. Silk Suit
Buddy carries the loot
Have mercy, Bang
I need it badder’n bad
Cantcha see I’m dyin
One cringe away from cryin
Tell you what, Jake, says Bang
Remember your girl
That blonde was right rooty
and she sure got the booty
You want her, she’s yours
She’ll do what I ask
Just give us a taste
‘fore we go to waste
(Scans the room in panic
Isn’t it romantic?
He motions for Jill
to join in the thrill)
Mr. Bang offers three
One for him,
one for his co-horse
Third to prime “First Course”
Go on now, Jill
I’ll see you back here
Just give Mr. Bang
a little that thang
But Jill shakes her head
Tells him she’s not for trade.
You can’t redeem this girl
like Green Stamps for a whirl.
Off go Mr. Bang and ass-
istant to find other buyers
No jack, No Jill for Jake
just sweats and a bellyache
No redemption
Smack preemption
Simply two losers
who, tonight, will be boozers
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse Poets, Victoria Slotto wanted a piece that describes our passions. I give you the opposite, in a way. I’m still fascinated by how far people will go to get high, to self-medicate, and that much further away from love, from God, from peace. I have known women who would give their bodies for the sake of a fix for themselves and their old man. In the Old Daze, I could have witnessed a scene very much like this, when it was LA and everyone thought they were immortal. Then a junkie died in my lap, and I saw things differently indeed. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 
Polly Robinson
I love everything about this poem, Amy. Its honesty, its shape, its movement.
brian miller
ugh, it is an ugly reality….what are you willing to sell to get what you want…that goes well beyond smack you know…for most its integrity…and oft they dont even know they are doing it…creative delivery bouncing us back and forth in telling hte story amy…
oldegg
How is it a sensible girl like Jill is hanging around Jake still? Still happy to share a snort with a decent sort of fella? Sadly he has long gone. What a great scene you have painted here Amy.
Victoria C. Slotto
This is just so raw, Amy. It definitely bleeds all over the page. You have a voice that can speak redemption to so many, if they are willing to hear. A very strong, tragic write.
charleenm
This is excellent! I love everything about it!
aka_andrea
great format and to hit this topic with the sting of sarcasm and dark wit, very smart idea!
georgefloreswrite
Pretty scary to live that way. I’m glad she refused, but I cringe because it might be a temporary thing.
Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Oh this is great… ironic tone by using nursery rhyme still. but still with a lot of pain. I sincerely hope Jill leaves.
Akila
An ugly picture that exists amongst us. i loved the undertones of irony in this piece and the fact that you chose align the sets like a conversation including a middle path!
http://randomlynovel.blogspot.in/2013/05/hear-my-voice-will-you.html
Roger Green
Gotta say you’ve lived a more…interesting life than I. I’m not jealous, BTW. Interesting format, these.
Laurie Kolp
This is great, Amy. I love the back and forth format. Mine is about addiction, too. http://lkkolp.wordpress.com/2013/05/02/dont-believe-the-big-lie/
tigerbrite
Wonderful Amy. You paint a scene a little like a boxing match 🙂 Raw and sad.
ninotaziz
Dear Amy,
This reads so well, like a play despite its shady and ugly story. I have had NO experience with hash, grass or weed, so this is the closest I will ever get.
I hear and see your sudden crash with reality Amy so clearly though. And I can almost hear your life changing thoughts in the silence that follows.
AR Neal
Amy: you brought me back. First husband’s cousin and wife were this couple, sort of. He’d send her out for crack in a minute and she would go. If he thought she didn’t bring back enough, he beat her. Once I was at the house and since I didn’t indulge, I was in the kitchen; thought I’d wipe down the sink but picked up a sponge so full of food grease I almost threw up. Then I heard their four-year-old daughter ask if she could bring them some ashes; at four, she knew how they did their fixin’s to smoke. I might have to write something about that night now that you brought it back to me…
Rowan Taw
I was holding my breath as I read this with the anxiety of what the outcome might be. A gripping read!
geraldine snape
love the layout of this it adds a real frisson of excitement …what will happen next?!!
Sadness too that life can be so cheap and betrayal so easy….thankyou