Best Harlotry Poems
harlotry to think
of worlds when waves do crash so
and the breaks come in
Chloey was a concubine
By the time that she was nine
Gents who should have saved her
Said only she was mighty fine.
Geinere's frailty
was that of an abandoned
child, lost in the world.
Her hurt was so that
of anguish and desperation,
her heart burdened by
his hateful words.
His domineerance, his
drunken righteousness,
protruding as a writ
man. A careful prodigy
was he, as his stupor
conceited to arousal
and a display of power.
"Geinere, calm thee now.
Closer, though not
as baffled, as I, for
you are in dear service,
fulfilling thee! Serve
your King graciously."
"My lord, pray thee no. . . ."
"Our bitter wench felt,
be this night, hence everafter,
I make thee worthy, art
the entail."
Tears erupted from poor Geinere.
Her soul departing as the
King's demands advanced.
Her innocence and essence
robbed of her, cheated now always,
a sullen amort. Her woes,
her unheard cries, her
tender virginity taken
from her, now left mad,
sadness and melancholy,
would be her muse.
Pain,
agonizing sorrow,
though unrightly welcomed.
For upon this eve of
tyranny and degradation
a seed of humility was
planted with no roots
of nurturance. The
passion shed would remain
a scar upon the royalties
of a forgotten King
and instill a harlotry
of peasant virtue upon
the dear maiden
and this dire kingdom.
As Geinere unwillingly
embraced the bastardly
disobedience of the
King and his dark
vespers of misery, her
turmoil greatened,
her flower taken,
her essence floundered.
The act maliciously foresaken.
"Oh angels, plentiful,"
chimed the King,
his behemoth of
propriety and lust
now ripe with vigor.
"In thy hopes of your goodwill,
overpowered, as vassal
actress, a call for
repeal."
"Begone Geinere!
Out of my chamber,
accusations found,
for I am certain, upon
your unwanted fulfillment
of matrimony. A
gift of guilt for you
hereafter!"
The night faded
as a moon blush tainted,
fell from the heavens.
Life through the dust
Hard labor through the concrete jungle
Manifest by the powerful dictators.
Empty promises, eating there own words.
Children walk through the dark with knifes.
Hoodlums, youth gangsterism Glares.
Civilization rant, harlotry blooms.
Online brothel, living borrowed time.
Great potential turning to invalid rascals.
Ho! Life through the dust
Manifest by the powerful dictator
Government disarray, kleptocracy reign
Embezzlement dazzling, job devoid
Poverty booms, murder. Violence, the air stench
terrorism stares, Religious scandals
Blood splits dyed the society
The gentle dusty-wind doth moves
Large population lived in slum
Poor health standard zoom
Silently, hiddeness, soul perished
The bigwigs consume from the bane of other
The one who make their home besides our ribs
Life through the dust snare.
The truth is lost, We fall to dust.
There amongst the shadows,
a masterful elucidation
of melancholic glee.
While the winds of change
take hold of thee, for
the splendor and eyes
of every many.
For the gentle whore
whose troubles woe,
perchance a cup
of pennyroyal tea.
For upon the throne
of harlotry, a gentle
courtship, spoken
cordially a many
young man. . . "of
thee, plenty. . . ."