Best Whores Poems
I welcome you to this magic kingdom
Drowned in endorphins and stale perfume
To hide the stench of sweat but not shame
You're free to leave but you won't be the same
So grab a drink, have one of my fags
The girls and boys in glamourous rags
Fight 'til the sunlight on sticky floors
Tomorrow morning they'll regret it, of course
Forget your morals, you won't need them now
It makes more sense to follow the crowd
That seems so happy and carefree
Intoxicated is the way to be
Am I the jester or the king?
This kingdom is my everything
Live long, all hail, up against the wall
The king is wearing nothing at all
If you're looking to lose yourself
Leave your soul and brain on the shelf
And find yourself washed up on the shores
Of the United Kingdom of Whores
Obi Wan Kenobi
Said “dooby do be dobie”
He wasn’t one but nearly two
And didn’t know just what to do
In his brownie, Kenobi robe(y)
Bag Whores to my left. Bag Whores to my right.
Bag Whores beating at my door, morning, noon and night. They know you got IT,
and they’re looking for another free high.
They all have the same old ‘Bag Whore’ Standard-Stock lie.
Talking about how they plan to cop TOMORROW,
But: Right now, they really need you to help them get by...
And: ‘TOMORROW’ they will be sure to remember to
call you before they ‘Drop On By’
Don’t even let a Bag Whore in the door,
or you’ll be dealt in a very big way. Once they get in they just
don’t go away. Once they’re in they’re not going away.
This is the standard M.O. of a Bag Whore on any day.
They’ll be grinding their teeth, and chompping at the bit.
They’ll just can’t wait for you to give them a huge,
bellowing, ‘Hoover Vacuum Type’ hit.
The Bag Whore will hound you, pestering you until you
break out your smoke. Then they fry your bowl
and scorch your pipe beyond any hope.
They always want more, even when you tell them it is gone.
Next thing ya know, they’re melting down your stems,
Your glass is etched and that is just too many shades of
BAG WHORE DONE GONE AND WENT WRONG!
You can always tell when a Bag Whore has a stash of their own,
Because they are suddenly nowhere to be found.
But once theirs is gone, they’ll be back, lurking about,
just lingering around and blatantly hanging out.
So the next time the neighborhood Bag Whore knocks
on your door, just tell them that you have
No More, No More, No More!
And for God Sake, what ever you do: Don’t open the door.
Loreen Parke
May 8th 2004
Led into a pit of serpents by Lust queen of the whores
She spoke unto me whore knowledge removing the veil of secrecy
revealing man's darkest desires
Visions of blasphemy intoxicated on man's blood her words slured
unleashing her verbal assault against the world
With hair of fire and serpentine eyes she motion me to come closer
Coiling her arms around me engulfing me in the flames of Anger dragging
me into the black abyss of Hatred
strangling me with the poisonous vines of envy
feeding me to Gluttony the mouth of hell
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka The Green Poet
Sarajevo - WHORES OF BABYLON
To talk of love, in such a time as now
is letting loose the devil in his day
for what is love is what life will allow
in search of feeling good in any way;
in sweet temptation of the heart and mind
they jump into what love has come to mean
then wrap theirr lives in what there is to find
and Sarajevo feels what's never seen.
Too late, discovery makes all hearts to see
They've let their beds to whores who want to stay,
and love, the joke, has layed so casually
where they have slept the night, and thru the day;
it's easy to be there in loves embrace
and so they never look love in the face.
© Ron Wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
The Whores of La Rive Gauche
To talk of love, in such a time as now
is letting loose the devil in his day
for what is love is what life will allow
in search of feeling good in any way;
in sweet temptation of the heart and mind
we jump into what love has come to mean
then wrap our lives in what there is to find
and swear that it's the best there's ever been;
too late, discovery makes our hearts to see
we've let our beds to whores who want to stay,
and love, the joke, has layed so casually
where we have slept the night, and thru the day;
it's easy to be here in loves embrace
and so we never look love in the face.
© ron wilson
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
THE WHORES OF La Rive Gauche
To talk of love, in such a time as now
is letting loose the devil in his day
for what is love is what life will allow
in search of feeling good in any way;
in sweet temptation of the heart and mind
we jump into what love has come to mean
then wrap our lives in what there is to find
and swear that it's the best there's ever been;
too late, discovery makes our hearts to see
we've let our beds to whores who want to stay,
and love, the joke, has layed so casually
where we have slept the night, and thru the day;
it's easy to be here in loves embrace
and so we never look love in the face.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Cleanliness and Whores
The ship was old once it had been a big ship now it was small
it had been overtaking by time, its shower system had sea water
which was nice enough to cool off when it was hot.
After having a shower, you needed a bucket of fresh water to rinse
the salt away if not you would scratch all night have irritated skin
For month we did not have a proper wash when our ship docked in
Bremerhaven for repairs and we got fresh water found I had
an extra pair of socks I didn’t know about
it was wonderful having a hot shower I stayed under it til someone
complained I was using all the warm water, even today the sense
of cleanliness makes me shudder with delight.
Whatever I had done in my youth the night before it helped
to have a shower and wash the sin away the smell of “life buoy.”
the only soap we knew about, made the difference the whores
loved it they knew you were clean seamen
Around the world people will find
Life is best where people are kind
Find a kind way
You can say, "Neigh"
Horse sense thrives in a stable mind!
Those claiming their religious pride
With snide invective speech,
Insult all those who don't abide
With what that pride might preach.
These sideshow barkers blowin' wind,
Who count the coin each night
Are parasites who preach on sin,
Like bloated beasts of blight.
They rant and bend the righteous word
To save new souls each day,
But words once used and often heard
Are soon to be passee.
Bring forth and save both rich and poor
Jehovah wants them back.
The sinning Saint and Saintly whore,
In danger of attack.
All children claimed by Christian fire
Must pray for God's good grace
To slay the sin of dark desire
That leads men to disgrace.
The preacher begs and then he pleads,
Conversion's case so clear,
Professing love for souls who need
Relief from grief and fear.
I say give all your wealth away
To prove great sacrifice.
From Tel Aviv to Rome today,
Divest and roll the dice.
Be prophets setting poor men free
And leave your gold charade.
Accumulate humility;
Not one cathedral saved.
No mighty crystal palace stands!
No Roman banks to own!
No ducat left in greedy hands
Worn down by tithes to bone.
Then I shall feed and comfort you
If you need board and bed,
For I will do what God would do
Before mankind is dead!
corporate whores & company men
hollowed out somewhere along the line,
sitting on the shelf, waiting for the promised
glory,
every bit of style designed by others pushing
them like the most savage drug on the
“naïve public,”
every step on the ladder covered in bling
luring in the greediest of pigs,
lathered up in
the colognes & perfumes provided
that bear their names,
with manufactured voices &
manufactured gestures,
each step planned out by a committee,
each appearance set up by a group of others
who pull the strings but stand in the
shadows
(aimed to gain more than the puppets
however, never foolish enough to
take part in a photo op),
smiling for the pictures,
standing in the spotlight,
working 25 hours a day,
tying off & shooting dollar bills
straight
into
their
veins,
standing tall as the most appreciated role models
of the 21st century
american.
I walk alone on freezing cold gutters,
with my jacket that has no buttons,
and shoes with the holes at the soles of my feet,
and the women look at me and gag,
they cry, they faint, they run away, they sigh,
they don't spare a passing glance,
they are the horrid creatures that have no soul.
Then there are the whores.
Yes, the whores stay with me,
they look at me and see a real man,
they see a real poet,
they see a real artist,
who really and truely starves for his art,
and they all admire me and what I stand for.
When I come around,
they tag along,
they sigh in relief when they see me
and they huddle around me
and they admire me
and I admire all of them.
They are my women
who ask nothing from me,
not one thing, yet they stay by my side.
They don't look at beauty, nor how big my bank account is,
they come as they are and look at me for what I really am.
They admire me, they love me,
they can't get enough of me,
and I can't get enough of them.
They all treat me right,
and I admire them for going out of their way for me.
Love is real, when real people appriciate real people.
Love is there when they sit there and listen to me
read my poems and they laugh and smile at me
and my creative genius.
The whores are my women,
and I love them for that, and I smile,
my heart laughs and they laugh with me,
because their my women
and I love them for that.
-10/23/2013
Let me introduce
David Dennison - wealthy,
dirty-minded man.
Credit card in hand
and his pornographic plans,
for sex on demand.
Little girls attract
him - his daughter's body
teases and distracts him.
Of course Jeff Epstein
knew the way of it - the pay
& get away with it.
David’s lawyers
smoothed the way - and he’s the
President today.
*David Dennison is Donald Trump's alias in non-disclosure agreements with prostitutes*
Love me,
want me,
read my songs,
if not for words I don't belong.
I've opened up stretched my soul flat,
poem whores are sure of that.
Give me,
feed me,
wanting more,
searching out for whats in store.
Innocent with guilt for lore,
judgement on the poem whores.
Lonely broken hearts, in stride
Lady Montague ---
She drank to life awaiting death
in runs Majesty's breath
never speaking of where she's been
Hamlet fed up leaves the scene,
as Captain Black bends his knee
for the Queen who embraces Mr.
Beam in Marches ferociously
little Putin -- bombing everyone.
Lenin looks up as a flock o' geese
inspecting the sun and screams,
"Russia's end so soon!"
Spider Man sinks his silk
upon the violent stupid tongue
arising from the ground says
invisible man,
"who tried butting me while I went
down upon wonder woman!"
Humanity's self-demise!
:: 04.12.2022 ::