Best Hookers Poems
Fanatics in Talibama
stadiums of bigoted extravaganza
hopefully supporters one day held to account
for abusing children in the name
of evangelical doctrine
He assassinates foreign officials
as terrorists like to do
he supplies Saudi Arapia
so they can kill more children than you
he loves his small fingers and his walls
He runs his concentration camps
he stops the needy from eating food stamps
socialism is all so very bad
unless is to help the richly glad
or paying hookers for the peeing mad hatter
Many cronies gone to jail
he will sell out his family
never mind sell-out the USA and democracy
he's Putin's batch and that's a fact
for years washing money for those Russian rats
He downed a plane for his re election
he said Obama would do the same
however Obama it seems was not insane
Trump committed crimes against humanity
time for him to face the wall
Of justice
Merry Impeachness
Justice delayed however symbolic
the orangutan finally won his award
for corruption and dereliction of duties
the constitution used to apply to all
IMPEACH
the orange leach
Lucifer has more morality
Peeing hookers to that will clarify
Concentration camps built
doctors denied free treatment of children
separated from mothers
Anne frank turns over in her grave
Title of Nobility
emoluments and fraud
foreign powers now own
the ivory tower
His followers
mow over Mexicans
ah but that's not hate
ignorance owns no book
Goebbels wrote fine prose
propaganda of the rose
sweet words hide not the smell
of bigots in their swamp of animosity
Defending the lady of liberty
is a kindness
defending the abused and weak
is a kindness
Hate wrapped in air freshener
an old German trick
calling men of justice, haters
most have seen this movie flick
My Shoe Collection
Shoes
Nice if you have them
Shoes
There is love
There is happiness
When the next path of your journey
You take with shoes on your feet
Shoes
I am coming out of the closet
I am not a woman
But I do have too many shoes
Shoes
Love and relationships
Why there are a lot like a pair of shoes
At times, things may stink and smell
Yet still better as a pair
Shoes
If I could walk a mile
In everyman’s shoes
I could walk forever
Never having to buy my own
Red Shoes
The Red Socks
Will never win
Without good running shoes
Blue Shoes
If only I had blue shoes
Of suede
Id be dancing with you
After the autographs
Shoes
Homeless people wish for shoes
Millionaires wish for closets
Big Shoes
My feet are so big
Ladies buy me my shoes
Shoe Sale
The man with one leg
Looks for shoe sales
At half off
The Hookers Shoes
A good hooker
Never has used shoes
Academy a Wards
Winners and losers
All complain about their shoes
Petty and jealous, the famously inane
Their shoes show their vain
Shoe Diversity
They come in many fashions
In shoes there is humanities design
We all walk the path of human strife
All Shoes matter
Celtic Shoes
Irish Shoes
Scottish shoes
Welsh shoes
All meet at the pub
So their feet can have a rest
While the mouths imbibe with chatter
If all goes well
Later on
The shoes fall off in a clatter
Miami Vice
Got the finest shoes from Miami
Found out they were fakes
Tongues were bent and crooked
Must have come from crocodile skinned tears
Mocking the homeless with no shoes over the years
The Great Canadian Shoe Trapper
The trapper goes for beaver pelts
The millionaire goes for shoes of felt
Armani makes it all the way
Only when the consumer comes out to play
The Shoeless Argentine
If you wish to invade the Falkland’s
Remember to bring your shoes
Cause your dictator has all your money
He cares not if you really lose
How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?
Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.
In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.
Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.
A culture’s blue concessions are gone,
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.
Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.
Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.
Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.
Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.
Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
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12.04.14
This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity. Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.
Hydro bill
Visa bill
Food bill
Toilet paper bill
Heating bill
Wine bill
Car bill
Phone bill
Clothing bill
Duck bill
Buffalo bill
Entertainment bill
Anti acids tablets bill
Insurance bill
Bar bill
House bill
Weed bill
Bakery bill
Starbucks bill
Medical bill
Psychotic drugs bill
Dental bill
Legal bill
( for murdering dentist)
Lawn bill
Maid bill
Sexy maid bill
Super sexy maid bill
Misc hookers bill
Feminists lawsuit bill
Internet bill
Cable bill
Speeding ticket bill
Second speeding ticket bill
(to pay first bill)
Drivers license bill
Tic-Tac bill
Kidney replacement bill
Second wine bill
Netflix bill
Barber bill
Uber bill
Russian translation bill
Predator Bill
Y-Bush bill
Donald Trump
Assassination bill
Legal bill
Alimony bill
Stormy bill
For Silent One's - Mamma Poetry Contest
Where is the love, Mamma?
Through broken Louvre blinds, you're ever watching
Rosary beads clicking prayers on repeat mode, uttering
Your plethora of Faith keeps me steadily striving
Though, frustrated when peace will be arriving.
Under cover of the midnight moon, hookers seducing
Shady men with illicit wares aggressively peddling
Of changing our situation, I'm forever idealizing.
Enduring every day's trauma, just surviving.
Seeking direction from above, when is enough enough?
Tell me, Mamma ~ Where is the love?
Collective immorality still existing.
A ticking clock morality meekly resisting
Corruption, greed, and deceit still abounding
This life where goodness seems to be drowning.
A depraved degradation of insanity still insisting,
Death, broken hearts, crime persisting
In the chaos, qualms never ceasing.
lawlessness above the muck and mire rising
At the kerbside, a holy man piously preaching
Should I turn my cheek, still beseeching
Amidst their plundering and their leeching?
NO !!
Enough is Enough ~ Where is the Love?
Beyond-repair abhorrence, I'm escaping.
Fervently, I'm hoping and praying.
Please God, Mamma, be safe while I'm gone
I'll be back for you before long
In the eerie darkness, emotions imploding
Sirens blaring, with the sound of guns exploding
My shallow breath quickening, turning back with throat thickening
All the while, I'm screaming
Where is the love?
Back through this hellhole, I'm rapidly racing
All through the panic, still hoping and praying
Please God, Mamma ~ Be Safe, Be Safe, Be Safe
Neon blue-red lights flickering and flashing.
Through my open front door, I'm madly dashing.
Looming through the haze, I hear them saying.
'Sorry, Miss, yet another random shooting
Your Mamma just got caught in the cross-firing.'
The last thing I hear is my own voice crying.
MAMMA ~ THERE IS NO LOVE! THERE IS NO LOVE!
Cheap Perfume
Reflecting on his memories of a life in cheap hotels.
Remembering lies both heard and told and remembering all the smells.
Cheap cigars and cigarettes still linger in the room.
Still each night he recalls a hookers cheap perfume.
He thinks about the night they met and the love they couldn't make.
How she left in the morning without the pay she couldn't take.
Between them for that moment there was only truths she told him.
Unlike many other men he asked her just to hold him.
It was odd to say the least, there were tears that they both cried.
He wonders now how life would be if only they had lied.
Still living in that same hotel where he was the night he met her.
Something deep inside his soul won't let his heart forget her.
That connection once they shared in a dark and dreary room.
When a hooker saved his life wearing cheap perfume.
Something tells him she is gone and that she's not returning.
But that don't stop the thinking or the longing or the yearning.
On the dresser lies a newspaper dated eighteen months before.
Someone found the body of someone they called a whore.
The day he read the story something in him changed.
Life became more empty as he watched life rearranged.
He gave up the cheap cigars now he drinks whiskey in his water.
As he thinks about the hooker and how she's somebody's daughter.
She told him that she had two kids as she cried through her forced smile.
The state had taken them away she hadn't seen them in a while.
Left standing at the alter with twin heart beats inside her
She had come so far from when her own father had denied her.
Unwanted by mankind she said and cursed by God above.
The night she held a stranger was the last drop of her love.
One night she saved a strangers life though to most it goes unknown.
Next morning when she left him she went out and took her own.
He can't bear to think about it as he sits here in his room.
That he'll never see her anymore or smell her cheap perfume.
Edwin C Hofert
O to be there again
Little boys dancing for calypso dimes
And the US marines, angelic in white
White rum frolicking in the chapel of their brain
Laughing like water on the ships grey side
Sons, fathers, husbands
Finding respite in the sedulous arms
Of intinerant lovers
Milking their wallets with sugarcane charms
Not that significant fact
That stalled my hunger many days
Is my longing now
But the friendhsips we share then
Bees swinging sibilant songs to tease
The honeyed flow from orange blossoms: hookers of the breeze
We fragment of a frantic civilization
Marginalized by the necessity
That sent us pirating sea shells
Selling purple throated conchs for breeze
Of charity satiated with alcohol and disease
And trees for white flesh of almond nuts
And a safe place to sleep
Above the coral theatre our clouds
Meandering like eyes over the city's
Barren breast in delicious idleness
I long for friends again like those
That made time's calcite hands beautiful
As a stalagmite
In our oppressor's concrete heart ...
My best imagination then
Was our racing kites tugging at clouds
For white puffs of affection.
Normal people, that's my game.
You think you know me? How lame.
I make my way, night by night.
Better watch where your going, I bite.
It's not for money, women, or fame.
It's for the bodies I claim.
I would tell you, but you wouldn't understand.
I feel like a fish, out on dry land.
There is no one like me, I am unique.
The world will die, I give them a week.
Kill them all, that much is clear.
I have to make them, disappear.
I'll bury them all, one by one.
Until my final task, is done.
Your lives are in my hands, your souls.
I'll pump your chest, full of holes.
I want the world, all to myself.
Only me, no one else.
Your impurities, make me ill.
And that's not how, I want to feel.
No need to run, that much is true.
I'll get you no matter what you do.
The world was going, in a downhill path.
I had to do something, had to act fast.
Your hookers and druggies, sicken me.
And that's not how, I want to be
If you were only perfect, like me.
This wouldn't have to happen, you see?
It's your own faults you brought it on yourselves.
Now you all, GO TO HELL!
FORGIVE ME THAT I HAVEN'T BEEN THROUGH THIS WHOLE SEX THING,
DON'T KNOW OF THESE ORGIES OR THE BACUS PARTIES,
DON'T KNOW OF SOME OTHER WOMAN'S CURVES,
OF SOME OTHER SCENT, EITHER STRONG OR WEAK,
DON'T KNOW OF THE WETNESS OF SOME OTHER VAGINA,
NOT ABOUT TWO MEN IN ME,
MORE THAN A SINGLE ***** TOUCHING MY FEELINGS.
NO, UNFORTUNATELY I DIDN'T HAVE THESE PLEASURES
FROM THE HOOKERS,
WHIPS, ECSTASY,THREESOMES, SWING.
SORRY, I DON'T KNOW THESE BEDS,
WASN'T LUCKY ENOUGHT TO HAVE THAT KIND OF COURAGE.
NEVER GOT BEAT UP WITH A BELT,
NEVER HUNG ON THE CEILING,
NEVER STUFFED ME WITH DRUGS,
NEVER SAW UNREALISTIC IMAGES
NOR SAID ABUSIVE WORDS
WHILE THEY CALLED ME WHORE
OR WHILE THEY SPANKED ME
IN SEARCH OF A MASOQUIST PLEASURE.
POOR ME, NEVER BROKE THE TABOOS
CUMMING IN SOMEONE I BARELY KNOW,
NEVER TASTED DOZENS OF DIFFERENT NUDES,
RAGGED TIMES TEN INSIDE OUT
FOR BEING DRENCHED IN DIFFERENT SPERMS,
HAVING COUPLES BETWEEN MY LEGS
THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW THE NAMES,
WHERE THEY LIVE, WHAT THEY WEAR OR WHAT THEY EAT.
NEVER PIERCED ME WITH PINS
THEY HAVE NEVER MADE ME A TOY.
NEVER TASTED AN ******
WITH PUBLIC WATCHING,
NEVER ENDED WITH APPLAUSE,
NEVER TRIPPED ON EXHAUSTED MEN
LYING ON MY LIVING ROOM RUG,
DRUNK FROM ALCOHOL
BURNING FROM ALL THEIR HOLES...
I HAVE JUST WHISPERED " I LOVE YOU" ,
ABSORBED ONE MANS JOY,
DROVE MY NAILS IN JUST ONE BODY,
RIPPED A FEW SHIRTS,
ANSWERED TO JUST AN UNIQUE TOUCH.
I HAVE ONLY MEMORIZED HIS SIGNALS,
HIS SCARS
AND I HAVE ONLY KNOWN HIS CARNIVALS,
HIS FAULTS,
HIS MOANS AND HIS MANY GROANS.
WHAT A SHAME THAT I HAVE BEEN A GEISHA
FOR ONLY ONE MANS DESIRE
AND ONE IRRESISTIBLE "LET ME...".
BACK, SIDE, FRONT
ABOVE, BELOW, IN BETWEEN
I HAVE BEEN WHAT HE WANTED ME TO BE;
DAME, PROSTITUTE, ANIMAL, HUMAN
LADY, CRETIN, FATAL AND SWEET
BUT ALWAYS HIS,
NAKED ONLY IN FRONT OF HIM...
BUT NOW, WHAT WILL WE DO?
I STILL CAN LEARN ABOUT SEX
BUT WHO COULD TEACH HIM LOVE?
PATRICIA EVANS
The stench of piss, vomit, and feces
immediately hit my senses
as I step over dirty syringes
and white, powdered filled baggies
the imperfect combination
of junkie and overdose
the drool dripping out of their mouths
and the sight of eyeballs rolling
into the back of heads
I see the hookers who parade around
in their birthday suits
who's bodies resembled that
of a skeletal corpse, and of course
who can forget the music
that shakes the exterior
of a cracking foundation
half-dead bodies moving and grooving
to the sound of a repetitive beat
but the irony out of all this of course
is the transaction.....
the meeting between men
the sell of deadly prescriptions
and the lost of finances
only to repeat its licentious cycle again
but this is nothing.... it's actually quite normal
in the stomping grounds of the ghetto....
If only I could be five once more
With all the knowledge en wisdoms from distant shores
Oh what a time I would have
At only five, I would be a devilish lad
I would file tax returns just for fun
Only because I have no income
I would say five million I make
What do you think will be your take?
Let em collect from a five year old
The IRS would they be so bold?
Sure they would try, that I know
My name I would say is old Al Gore
I would eat ice cream all day
If mum said stop! Id say no way!!!!
I am only five once in a lifetime they say
So ice-cream is my right!!! For that I will fight!
I would eat cookies as meals
I am only five and not fat at all
I would eat all day and eat all night
Who the hell cares, I’ll be alright
I would fly to Las Vegas
And place bets on number five
I would date cocktail ladies
I show them five is alive
I would change my name
To Alice Cooper
And behead a few chickens
Just to be cool and scare off a few wiccans
I would buy me a bike a boat and a plane
So I could travel like Hefner and act insane
I'd have playboy bunnies, all wrapped in chocolate
Fantasies and dreams, I would swagger and strut
I would drink whiskey with cool aide cause I am only five
Happy hours I would have with hookers in dives
I would have a fake beard, so I appear six
I would listen to rock all night, ending with Styx
Donuts and Pizza, would be my daily fair
Hangovers and Playboy bunnies, why I know you’d all stare
Oh how evil I would be at this tender young age
Smoking cigars and playing the sage
Id rob me a bank for a million dollars
And spend it on Nintendo as I laugh and I holler
No way they would put a five year old in jail
Who cares anyways, you’d know I’d make bail!
Cause I would be only five
And when I’m rich, I’ll have gold taps and teeth
a Harley, a Bentley, and a Cadillac too;
and I’ll pay three hookers to parade around the
kitchen, all morning, in the nude; it’s where I’m happiest
then in the afternoon, three ladies from the church will come,
to teach me about goodness, and how to cope without a drink
and a blowjob
and I’ll invite the establishment and the greens, in their faded
blue jeans, to Carnegie Hall; and I’ll sit at a table with a cold beer,
and a copy of Guns and Ammo, and I’ll stand up and say,
“OK, let’s have some fun, let’s write poetry, and if they couldn’t,
I’d tell them, “that’s OK, Haiku, Rhymes, or verse will do.”
and some days sitting, looking out of the
open door, to the tropical sunlit yard,
feels like being in a Goddam tomb;
but when the long-haired girls walk by
and smile that smile, everything looks
better and that's OK and life looks brighter
and I wake up a little more and dream of
honey and a hot M16, and I make coffee
on the black civil-rights stove, and Martin
Luther King shouts out, "I have a dream,"
and thats OK and alright, and life looks brighter
and the house across the way is decorated in
shame and the hookers hum dull tunes, and
play on their Gameboys, and discuss Columbia
and their vulvas, and the kids they never had,
but that's OK and alright, and life looks brighter
and the stealing monkeys come in and out, and
the furious, curious, crucified neighbours, come in
for sugar, or a loan, or to borrow a dream, or ask
for my phone; and that's OK and alright, and life
looks brighter
and the sharp cruddy, thud, thud, thud, of music
from the disco hall, makes the bad girls dance and
the boys smoke dope, and the priest who wants a
wife and a rest from the bible, gets down and makes
his move; and that's OK and that's alright and life
looks brighter.
and the wheels of the trucks kick up dust and leave
their travelled, oily hopes behind, and maiden aunts
with pension plans, and questions about sex, and fruit
and empty wombs, busy along; and that's OK and that's
alright, and life looks brighter
and the swaying palms and decaying, delaying coconut
farms, with their chop, chop, chop and howdy-doody
charms, get under your skin; like olive oil and turtle soup,
and beaches with perky, querky, pleasant staff;
but their Ok; and mean no harm, and that's OK and alright
and life looks brighter
and an old man once said in the heat of a dense, humid,
lazy, fishing day; "don't give a damn, it's OK and it's alright,"...
and life looks brighter.
Lonely people in a crowd, lonely people all around
People chatting everywhere, sounds of laughter fill the air
Laughter loud throughout the room, loud pulsating empty sound
Inconsequential chatter, idle gossip all can share
Lonely people in a crowd, lonely people all around
Laughter ringing in the air, laughter hiding their despair
Chatter, chatter everywhere, the intellectuals and the snobs
Doctors, lawyers, accountants, sad drunks and gay movie stars
Young girls flirting, men staring, overweight people eating like slobs
Part time hookers , some divorcees and the men with large cars
And yet together their patter it means nothing at all
Their laughter so empty as it drifts down the hall
Desperate lonely people, wandering in and out of bars
Unhappy people grabbing at air, their lives filled with lies
People who won’t comprehend money won’t buy you the stars
People with no real meaning to their dull and hollow lives
People without knowing, giving out sad empty vibes
Lonely people in a crowd, soundless sobs and soundless cries
Chatter, chatter everywhere, as shrill laughter fills the air
I don’t want to be part of that empty shallow sound
Laughter ringing in the air, laughter hiding their despair
I want to be needed with caring people around
I don’t want to hear my empty laughter in the hall
I can’t bear to think that life has no meaning at all.