You’re still Mary’s daughter

You are the extra padding that makes my voice go
Boom when my words mean Squeak,
reverberating like deep loud bass bumps to shake me at my core and this is where we drew the line for the ironically elite, 
you said “follow the street beat” and i felt my mouth dry out,

like the breath had already shaken all the words out of my mouth,
a death rattle for banter and breaks,
shake shake shake it up and take the tremor out of your teeth,
bite down and bare your bones, 
there’s nothing hip about discretion.
and so the flow goes when your air infects mine with the breath of you,
lightweight whispers travelling on sighs for signs of unrest.

the unruly are the holy here,
the rebellion will take the bibles of babies and rewrite them.
the rebellion will take the tunes of teachers and unwind them:
the lessons taught from here forthwith will not hide our shames and shambles and
the voices carrying on a word of mouth religion will not waver.

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