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Image for the poem John Gotti’s Whore

John Gotti’s Whore

Ass in the air
Flamboyant Italian flair
Requested butter rum, easy lover
Paid, mouth service, body guards hovering
Marked man licking my pussy under silken covers
Turned backs, two bodies fucking in broad light
Beretta 22 strapped to my inner thigh never out of sight
John Gotti’s private whore for the night

Five O kicking in the steel door
Handcuffed wrists pinned behind my back, nose kissing the floor
High priced suits worth the while
Shh…..
No charges filed
It never happened, the life of being versatile
Façade of a dazzling sexy smile
Lost in the underworld lucrative lifestyle

Business continues on
Healing the world my initial song
Kenneth Cole Shades, concealing the window to the soul
Entering hostile territory, how this goes down who knows
Steel piece will pop pop pop without prayer, giving you no hope
Time is money ….you got the dope
Is it all there, anything less, gets you choked by a robe
Smart pussy used for a national passport
If it feels like a set up, then mission abort
Black robes bought in courts

Trafficking from zone A to zone B
The nun attire, who would suspect a little old lady like me
Moving Keys, uncut, requested nose candy
Crossing several borders several identifications coming in handy
Studying hard, mind in the books
Gun shot to the arm, thigh, backroom clumsy lacerations stiches
Vendetta shh…I did not see anything, code hush, no snitches
Alibi, lies...ask my butter rum bitch

Closing gaping wounds
Keeping the secrecy from daylight gloom
The cleaner …oh no… no such survival luck
Duck…lives sprawled out….who never meant a fuck
SweetKittyCat5
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
Wherever there's opportunity, the mafia will be there.

Johnny Kelly
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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