Contours from The Panopticon by Melissa Finn

They snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About objects objectified
That clappity clap against so-called dimes
When banknotes hit soft, velvet celandines
They rarely snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About subjects subjectified
That packity pack heat in every contour
Of their fierce female minds

Below the state, the panoptic-lens is ubiquitous
In a myriad imitator cultures simultaneous
Leeching ideological misuse, but recluse
Observers with octopus words in every space

For every excuse
Stimulus to reproduce their projected lacks
Seeing and controlling women to repress
Under the gaze of eyes, limitless

Grasping, never satiated or satisfied, covetous
Eyes, how many more millions of bars
Will be filled with a litany of tired metaphors?
Titillation, an obsession, anatomy auditors

Lyrics with no insight to women’s mind and core
Only vocabulary is how to score and ignore
Dictator? Solicitor? Dinosaur? None a metaphor
He is the matador to his own frustrated Minotaur

Roaring in a labyrinth-like urban folklore
Acting like an inquisitor because he feels so inferior
Forgot about respect, class and honor
Pours out his sore heart, not a heart that soars

They snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About objects objectified
That clappity clap against so-called dimes
When banknotes hit soft, velvet celandines
They rarely snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About subjects subjectified
That packity pack heat in every contour
Of their fierce female minds


The woman is no tour(ist) nor meat to devour
Scandalous, metrically gratuitous, non-ceremonious
Music that is so poetically vacuous
Mind melting, stomach turning. Incredulous

Operandi modus of this male gaze is traitorous
Women are disciplined to be available
Daily punished for being acquiescing
Frames so banal

Keep gender power relations stable
Bodies inspected, supervised, valued for being malleable
Public discourse management works best as a tool
Crucible where, inside, woman is fledging and docile

Men make the laws, women comply
Men define the crime, and live a social lie
Resistance is a crime, women allowed no alibi
Rules govern how to body annex indemnify

The Man
Social laws control women’s bodies
They command the right to punish
The punishing’s done by vigilantes
Using words to grease their piece with hypothesis

While people are lulled into distraction
Women’s body is made target of penal repression
Stalked by patriarchy and emoji eggplant
Little airplay for the non-compliant


They snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About objects objectified
That clappity clap against so-called dimes
When banknotes hit soft, velvet celandines
They rarely snappity snap spit quick, witty lines
About subjects subjectified
That packity pack heat in every contour
Of their fierce female minds

• Hip Hop
• Spoken Word
• philosophical
• political poetry
• rap
• spoken word poetry
• Waterloo