A Poem by Soi Cowboy

The Whip Hand, by Soi Cowboy

There is a quiet desperation that permeates these grounds, not just from the rural side of the fence but from dollars, francs and pounds.

The belly of capitalism rolls over here to reveal its wounds, awash with beer and familiar party tunes.

2.4 children and too many late nights at the desk, or perhaps one too many knock-backs and promises of the best.

Either way tonight everyone temporarily wins, until the lottery of life makes it her child’s turn for a spin.

But don’t think about that just pay your cash, it makes it easier in the morning to make a dash.

The vision of youth has your mind strapped in a vice, the vision of the life you don’t want has her mind thinking outside of fields of rice.

But these streets aren’t paved with gold, they’re paved with grasping, desire and souls to be sold.

Someone’s mother, sister, daughter or friend, yet for you its just a means to a disconnected end.

There’s a reason why they’re here and a reason why you’ll leave, a reason why you’ll smile and a reason while she’ll heave…

But don’t think about that just pay your cash, it makes it easier in the morning to make a dash.

Tomorrow you can meet the boys and tell them what you saw, how you spoke, smacked and dominated a whore.

Tomorrow she won’t mention a thing, but chances are she’ll think about what she could’ve been.

Like, had she had the opportunity to fly as high as a kite…but then you know different, she loves it, doesn’t she… right?

In your mind she has a choice, but in her mind choice will only ever be as powerful as her voice. You and I know it’s such an ambiguous thing, but a convenient excuse to order another beer Singh.

Had she been born in your world her life might not have been so blue, but then had she been born in your world she might have been as disgusting as you…

But don’t think about that, just pay your cash, it makes it easier in the morning to make a dash.

You see, no matter what I say you’ll make an excuse, because the country from whence you came became mighty through abuse. It’s in your blood to dominate, to strip individuality to rule and discriminate.

You’re white, you were born to win, she’s brown she was born to sin. You have the whip hand on this strip of debauchery, while her mother and father sit worrying about a call from the mortuary.

But don’t think about that just pay your cash, it makes it easier in the morning to make a dash.

Words By Soi Cowboy