Valley of the Queens Chronicles: Road to Submission

Standard

Even the Buda Seer gats to take days off
And let a little ratchet come out
She aint Jess-us Christ
And right now – she be pimping a lopsided halo
Heyul – her tongue is the neighbourhood hoe
Loose and free swinging in its wordplay
It is all about truth and acceptance here
Aint dem Irates said – and she quotes:
“The truth simply is
There is no gimmick or frills to it
Anything apart from the truth is a lie”

That was a particularly painful whoop ass
And she got the lesson
But right now gurlfriend is vacationing in Pisstossicity Ville
She is entitled to have a day off from
All that self-awareness up in her dome
She waits – with a contentious air swirling about her
For her Irates to just start some mess today
Well – she wishes they would –
That “when you know better – you do better” sanctimonious vybe
Is just asking for some wordplay
And she aint afraid to speak her mind
Sista may know betta – but she is off today!

“As you keep on saying” her Irates comment drily
“Why the foul mood Boo?
What has got you so riled up?”

They wait patiently – knowing that she is milling over
How much ratchet to let out – especially since
They have not given her anything to work with

Ok – let’s get right down to it shall we

“Oh – do tell” the Irates jest
Although Oya’s gritty change and transition winds
Have begun a menacing build up of aggression
Hardliner aint scared of no change winds either
Cause she be thinking she about to pop a bitc…

“Now hold up you ratchet misdemeanor diva”
Her Irates snatch her up real quick
And like quicksilver lightning
A badass 7 inch spiked heel Original Jean Paul Gaultier
Lands dead – smack in between her eyes
Oooh and Hardliner swears on her Grandmama – that her third eye
Just woke her up to all her dayum past lives
Plus Oya’s winds have communicated
Their clear intention to skin her ass

“Contain that ratchet Hardliner
Letting her demean your station
Hoodrats don’t gats no real estate in the Valley of the Queens”

Their tone gats some real bite to it
Like that of a mongrel with an inferiority complex
But Hardliner being a recovering Masochist
Is still caught up in wonderment that
This time she got an original

“Gurl don’t get it twisted
Gaultier is reserved for special ed. cases such as you”

They take a pause and sigh – “only you Hardliner
Now what is your problem?”

Well if yall gon be like dat
She sulks from her sorry corner punishment
Her fire and brimstone reduced to nothingness
And now she is left with her own hurts and failures

“Um – no matter how the wind howls
The mountain cannot bow to it
And here you thought that you were that mountain
It could blow up a freaking twister
I aint movin diddly – aint that how you put thangs Boo
Aint it the truth – come on now
Call a thing a thing Hardliner”

She winces – facing the disciplinary winds of Oya
As she sits contritely in the time out corner
She don’t want to play no more

“Exile your inner ratchet
Then we gon deal Boo”

Hardliner takes a deep breath
And pops some humble pie into her mouth
Dayum – that is some foul tasting shit
Gingerly she pokes out her tongue to sample
The retribution laced air picking up a little
Swirl of wind again after her latest retort
Umph – there must be an end to this
Somewhere over the freaking rainbow
She waits for Oya’s storm to die down
Or at least enough so she could open her dayum eyes
This is some kind of mess

“Eat your pie and shut up Hardliner”
They admonish

She stuffs more of the gawd awful
Pie in her mouth to avoid a classless retort
They cannot fault her for trying

“Yeh when you are moments from death
You succumb to humility
Thinking that you are so hardcore
That you are earning your stripes
When in actual fact it is plain self-mutilation”

Yall real foul

“Close the peg Hoe
After you are done eating
We gon have ourselves a little chat”

Left in stern silence Hardliner swallows her humility brew
An acquired taste and Gawd dayumd expensive
Yet strangely liberating
She finds her 180 degree stance slowly – bending forward
Her spine suddenly flexible to the ministration of Oya’s wind
A gradual prostration leading into mindless davening

The mountain has come to Muhamed

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