Best Harlot Poems
While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
Behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
A painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
And now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.
A man with cash shopped at a used car lot
Where met a cute, winsome young harlot
Smiling, he took it in stride
When she offered him a ride
He loved the trip ‘til he missed his wallet.
Mid Uzi shots from vacant lots, which strike and ricochet
A painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy)’s on her way
To tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
And indiscreet along the street she gives her pride away
To any guy who’s passing by with cash and time to pay.
In concert halls, beyond the sprawls 'round shabby cabarets,
unjaded thoughts of Camelot imbue divine ballets.
Convicted as a teen
Never exposed to the elicit jeopardies of Babylon
Spirit filled
Tongue uttering
Never defiled
Consecrated
Little did I know that my biggest enemy was right inside this body?
The very same body I had kept holy and sacrificed unto God –was the very means that could liquidate me
I never realized it at first
Slowly it crawled in when I least expected
Like a thief ready to steal, kill and destroy
It was a choice
not rape
I choose to became what I was
I had become extremely perverted and defiled internally because of my interaction
I remember the one hug,
It was close, fiery and filled with such passion
A hug in the day became a stimulant dream in the night
I had lost my virginity before I comprehended it
Fully clothed
I choose to give it away
It had become an emotional battlefield
I had fallen in love with him as an idea
I was married to him in my mind
It began to be a routine
Dreams turned into action
We never physically lay together
But my hands became him and explored my body
Virgin in the physical, harlot in the Spirit
I was enslaved by my sins
Tempted and dragged away by my own evil desires that had enticed me
My desires interlocked with my womb and conceived an embryo
His name was sin
I gave birth to him and named him Death
Until, I heard the lamentations of David in Psalms 51
Have mercy on me oh Lord, according to your unfailing love;
According to your great compassion
Blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
And grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me!
Woman, why must you play the harlot?
You wash yourself, shampoo your hair,
put on make-up, with extreme care.
Then you dress up, with scanty clothes,
run out the door, and hit the road.
Why must you play the harlot?
In the strip club, you gab well,
Sweetly proclaim, lap dance for sell.
Your mind's fixed, on the money,
If fools don't pay, they get no honey.
Why must you play the harlot?
You then haste, your way on home,
Call up a lecher, on the phone.
You say, baby, I need some action;
I'm talking physical, sexual seduction.
Why must you play the harlot?
The lecher arrives, at your door,
You let 'em in, ya' hit the floor.
The air cools, but blood heated,
Flesh on flesh, two souls inebriated.
Why must you play the harlot?
She's grown fond
of the void lulling around her exoskeleton
She's brought horror to
diligent obtuse slaves
The quiver in her giggle
heeds her cerebellum celebration for the rats that claw at the flesh walls
Jokes on the vermin, jokes on everyone
germ spreader dictates a varied vacation from the norm
the wicked only wither at the hint of a storm
It's in their genes
in between
and all part of "the scene"
a hellish landscape comprised of wooden dolls cradled by gelatin snakes
It's about to forsake the world
She's about to regurgitate the stars over absent bowel syndrome
She's loved and out
sprained by clout
itched severed love cloth
begging for a spout
Brave ones be near her
Sing the strings of cellos wrapped at her ankles
Bring the sins of her meta-skeleton
Drag her through the snow
freeze everything she knows
No one you may ask today remembers her exact and true name
As for her beauty, some may question, Is she an angel or a goddess
Her flowing gowns were of the finest satin, like those worn by a countess
Many of you may inquire and scorn her with your righteous blame
For her work required a moral destitute of character, a disregard of shame
A sacrifice of her heart, was one of the heaviest cost of her caress
Her bruised and battered body and her hair a tattered mess
Today, however of her only the numerous blissful smiles of men remain
For she was a master of whispers, a spell spinster, a conjurer of lustful lies
She offered them her body, her affection, her tenderness, for a modest fee
How many a night her suitors enjoyed her flesh, as echoed in their cries
She smiled, she swayed, and she sashayed, like a sensual seductive sea
Sadly, no doubt, the love she certainly wished for, she never would realize?
If only they knew, to feed her child, for what greater love a mother could there be
She strumpets all into the nights until
around her head the build-up's like fetid, gross cheese;
her lewdness makes the earth and sun stand still:
Lord! What miracle it'd be were she just a tease!
Her grinning face I loathe and never miss;
to greet her with a large and phallic pecker
delights her—but I swear to God on this:
that I felt then the extreme need to deck her
at the knowledge of her one-hundred lovers!?
Deceived by her (that wily Lolita!),
I curse then forswear her and flee for cover
vowing henceforth to shun that Medusa.
So with luck and some serendipity,
I abscond her wiles with no STD!
HARLOT
Tall grass and rustling trees muffled the noise,
shouts of “Harlot” followed them
pain's gunshot echoing.
John G. Lawless
2/16/2015
The Harlot and The Fool
She a sultry vixen bought love with her cries
I ,the scoundrel , ate her up with my eyes
Sexy curves just so right on a body so lean
world called her princess, I called her Jean!
Nights of tossing gold dust upon her bedroom door
she weeping so so profusely begging for more
Never outright selling her hot steamy pleasure
men eagerly offering their lives and treasure!
Blue ribbons adorning her hair of woven gold
market mastering as her secret wares were sold
Customers lined castles just to see her glow
offering gold and gems to see her sexy show!
She a queen that ruled in the realm of desires
wrapped in gold and silk stoked the many fires
Dreams offered in sexy body and sweet low moans
her victims ,lost in fantasy and sexual groans
A prince appeared to whisk the goddess away
I, the scoundrel , could not make her stay
Her parting words, bitter arrows cutting my pride
good night sucker, bring more gold, get another ride!
Robert J. Lindley 07-27-2014
Some act as though a person completely loses their humanity after they let you stick your in them, what a deranged way to be to dehumanize people, devalue people because they gave into a primitive urge just as you did , but because they have a they're no longer human to you after the act has been done ,you view her as a harlot as, a whore who has no value anymore, what does that make you when you did the same as she, I would cover my ears instead of listening to this hypocrisy, this mental atrocity ,she's not the atrocity, she is still whole and priceless even if you view her as a worthless hole,that mindset just reveals that inside you is a empty hole, dark cold soul, lacking humanity so this is why you can't see it in others, if you had to face that reality you would shudder
haashi the harlot
has a faucet
she has water to drink
hashi got basins
and soap in her basin
and clothes to wash away
her stink
but it could be better
spend some time together
and find the Harlots
a drab
towel off the soap
and twitch to cope
and fever sweatens
the drab
it get's chilly
so don't act silly
get dressed and
prepare for event
Hashi The harlot
aint the average Harlot
she the kind
where your money's spent
Scarlet the Harlot teases and torments matador man name of Lyn.
A stuck bull is less wild, but he ignores the advice of friends and kin,
You cannot be serious, they say, she is a cougar and teases us all.
Lyn cannot help it, he loves who he loves, and he loves Scarlet doll.
So, he chases and flirts, but she stays conveniently out of reach.
The bloom is off the lily, she is conniving and nasty, no innocent peach.
Love has nothing to do with it, he tells his kin and his friends with advice.
She is not much, but she is all I can get, even if she is not at all nice.
Who would have thought that scarlet thread would save you,
hung from your window ledge close by our harlot bed.
You own that Inn, built into Jericho’s thick and stone built wall.
Who would have thought the God you feared,
with army’s last triumphant trumpet blast,
would cause that wall to fall.
That same windowed wall shows faces of the men you bed
while rooftop flax dries in the sun, and money from that sex,
and money from your flax cloth spun, hard earned to feed your family,
hard earned for all, hard won, hard earned for one and all.
And now the terror of that tribe, whose fear of God-reknown
has gripped your town and now knocks on your door.
Not another customer, 'dear', but spies that come before your dread,
before each stone comes rushing down,
before those stones crush every head,
before the curse to make your town no more.
Who would have thought to place your name with Sarah's faith
when in haste you hid those men in rooftop flaxen den,
and bargained each for saving lives before invading men
would come again. Yes, should spies go and not be found,
they would surely come again, burning Jericho to the ground.
Who would have thought in time to see your name with Judah's lion.
No longer harlot's shame but in mother-line to Christ our Lord
whose faith, with Sarah and with Abraham,
in Hebrews and in James, is something we acclaim,
beside those greater honoured names in faith's fine hall of fame.
Who would have thought your scarlet thread,
perhaps snatched from your shameful bed,
would win acclaiming faith and save those souls most certain dead,
your work that saved through faith, both work and faith,
with saving grace, saved losing of your head.
That day the saving scarlet thread was seen,
and also bloody red, from hand and foot and thorny crown,
and holding all your harlot’s blame, and all your harlot’s shame,
your Christ dropped bloody scarlet threads, dripped quietly to the ground.
Thus Rahab takes a finer name, that name above all other names,
and through her line, and scarlet thread,
shall rise with Christ's own rising dead.
Had chasing salacious not sparked her curious
Outcast student wouldn’t have bothered to goad
Beguile fellow fifteen year old, sordid suggested
Accompany her on dirty double date, get stoned
Recklessly rush into raunchy actions, clueless
Temptation harvests travesty, tender suspended
Hidden in high laughing heart, slick chimera pelt
Adrenaline aces enamour or war around the corner
Ready to frolic,fight, backpacks bulge with bravado
Lurid drunk promenade, concrete jungle hunt fauna
Onyx drawn eyes harden dark, debauchery dealt
Transfers opioids, rapid ricochet carries cruel cargo
30th May
They’ll never get cold