Long Whoring Poems
Long Whoring Poems. Below are the most popular long Whoring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whoring poems by poem length and keyword.
Using the need to convey and communicate.
She spoke to those she reherst as they needed
to communicate. the director had been
ordered find words to convey and give meaning to
the terminology used speak so that all were
able to understand. He allowed them to use words
that were directed at the editers, the prompt persons
and even the lighting directors.
Bastard prompt, languages like sonnet, to edit, caster
to direct, stop, to end. likeablity to question.
she was concerned about being both a member of the cast and the orchestra.
the person she was dating had been isolated and alone (without dating0
For sometime he too often acted by adding word to his script, making his cohort
learn to adlib.The lady felt shredded by her obligations. onstage she knew
her male friend had a script that would allow him to adlib around engagement and marrage. she stumbled over the matter in private, she didn't allow her secret
her romance to a woman who she had been involved with as lovers, not as partners in a friendship. When both persons auditioned for the part; members of the cast spoke behind the backs of the cast members involed with in the rumor. 9 a line in the play- was Sweep the fallen needles under the christmas tree; my fiance forgot to take it down." The actress rebuttal would be: "" she is busy doing other things, manybe whoring around!" the actress is then surpassed to enter the room holding a tray to give the members of the party refreshments," she is the maid, her words were to speak only to the women as directed by her boss, in the scence before. In a twist of events she said( bla,..... Instead of Bla,....) and forced them to adlid around her words. a song was to appear and the mean mugging faces grunted with disapproval. but as the music started, they smiled, only to have there world shattered as she began sing different words to the music that for months they had rehersted.
these are these people: this kind of song, this sorted foolishness. a cander of cantress bullying! Her role as musicain might have been more appealing?
Hanging around
street corners, pay phones, and junky motels,
I stare into the passing faces
Some look away in disgust, some just look away,
not wanting to know, never asking why?
Who would want to believe, it might have been, or could be them,
looking dirty, paranoid, free
Some want to help, want to save us from our
self imposed misery,
as if theirs ( misery ) is some how better than ours. Ha!
Even if they could help (and they can’t)
We would not take it
It is not we who are sick
It is not we, who are prisoners
Raised on the beautiful lies that mommy and daddy feed,
Fueled by a corrupt system and the false history they teach
We did not sale you your disappointment
your counterfeit dreams, or “ LIVE AT ELEVEN LIVES”
I see the hypocrite shaking his finger at me,
hiding in his big mortgage,
big car
and lovely whoring wife…
He wants to know why I’m smiling, in my holey jeans,
Long hair, and bad teeth [Soulless]
He wonders what this hot little girl on my arm sees in me?
In her to short shorts,
too short shirt,
and sad expressions. [ broken]
He turns away, but questions remain
What does it mean to let go?
to slip away in the night
to live where wavy walls meet dirty floors,
and broken windows look out onto fading streets.
Where smiles and laughter are bought one at a time,
and are as temporary as the sadness in-between
Here in this world where no one wants to be,
and no one can leave
Where the dragon holds the key,
and just one fix will set you free
The broken whores
old thieves, dopers, and creeps
The ones left in the cracks to disease
And still the questions remain
Why?
why you or why not me
and what does it mean,
to be looking
dirty, paranoid, free…
I thought these white words like seering light
That jived my brain with alien meanings
To my pain were scandalously gone
I thought I would have to find a way to speak
Using silence as my native tongue
While I mourn the longing for cadence and rhyme
Then suddenly I was shaking like a mountain on fire
My whole world was convulsing with desire
And I knew I was abouut to spew hot lava again
And send foul gases to give life to dying forests
And bring men to joy surreptiously
For these white words belong to a whole energy
An assembly of things in chain like my soul
For there is no reality of anything except that which is conquered
And must erupt with volcanic presence
To claim even the edge of a normal existence
The black burden is a perrennial tragedy, a mask
For all we cannot say or do with ignorance again
I still am apostle of thunder, and of justice
And of song, bacchanal and the drum that dance
Against the skull, breaking the bone for thoughts
Of deliverance. I love women who are rivers
And who make me weep like the sea
Because I cannot articulate the sincerety of what I feel
Some I did not call they came of their own volition
Forcing their hurricane on me
I wrote no dance for the tornado they became
I watched them spin and went their way
You should see how these scaffolds blamed me
When they had no more use for me
I was never building them
For always my hoiuse was for one true love
Who losing her identity wanted to be a scaffold too
And pulled her house down just like the Bible said she would
And when I thought that was everything
There on the ground was words
This incessant mistress whoring at my feet
I picked it up for my own therapy not revenge
The pen is sweet in my hand
It scrolls memories again, it scours the frenzy of pain
This is all I am
Cackle like hens
might the fox
find you
he spoke.
that those who
feedest thee sowest not
but sprinkle grains to fatten
might the fox
spoil the harvest
there labors shall be in vain!
Nyx raised stranger people
with the teachings of the night
she offered them suggestions
how to use and make poorish
troublings barable: so we thought
make way that the ballet shall
never be written and the song
never sung.
Hera over hearing Nyx, interuped
and cursed Nyx who told the women
to have there men save there money
and buy expensive things
and tell these men that you will marry them
and when all the women shall meet
together
they shall agree then not to marry
and the men shall be emotional and uncaring
and the Followers of Dolus
will be able to trick them of there
tresures by making them
assocate there wealth with there enablity to
gain the hand of those they had loved.
Hera cursed them with words of division
and spoke there ills before the other Gods.
Dolus sought Nyx and stood beside her
as to the honor they had developed.
Chorest thee might
others might prosper.
that chariots might make strong men weak
and then the women who act as they adore him
might become wealthy from being deceptive.
Might the the horses make dust
that they might not see
and the noise of
the wheels
might distort there decision making
spoke Dolus. Again Hera herd these words and said.
Might the consortment of deception
be your own undoing.
Three hundred nights mights might these
women barest.
that those who chore
to aquire there hands in marrage
might chore no more said Hera!
A the tricks of whorish women
shall be story's of
trustest persons warnings to all against
the devlsh ways of whoring folk.
Make it hurt, I wanna bear your mark
Take my flesh and brand it in the dark
Dent and tear apart my skin under your sharp teeth
Use everything you have to tear apart me
Sweet, sweet as can be
I want to be your hard candy and splinter apart
Under your hard bite
I've got six inches on my man
Short as could be, but when he grabs my hand
Squeezes it in a way that makes the viewers smile
But I can feel those intentions beneath it and they're so vile
Make it hurt, come on and make me bleed
Spread me like butter, don't make me plead
Use me until I can't remember it
Bully me until my brain is spit
Break, break me on down
I don't want to remember, so come work me harder
It gets harder
Scars on a heart, so much harder
To report to any authority that matters
It's been so long that I couldn't remember your face
But I still feel those blows just like they were a can of mace
Make it hurt, I'm just your toy
A dirty little hole for my big boy
Let me help you get all your stressors out
Come and tell me that you love me while you choke me out
Squeeze, squeeze til I cry
You're the only one that matters so come, make me splatter
Beneath your gun
Broken
I'm useless without you
So broken
I can't move forward without you
So pull me apart
It's gotten harder
Come hold my head deep underwater
I love you
I want to hurt for you
Make it hurt, I want to feel your touch
Come and choke me out until it's just too much
Use me like a toy until I'm too boring
Have you finally gotten sick of my endless whoring
Kill, leave me to die
Would you have killed to be me and railed me
Until I perished?
Come and listen awhile I pray
To hear a sad love story,
I have only a minute to stay
To tell the tale of Malcolm McCorey.
I'm Malcolm, Sally was my bride
I've loved her since grade school,
She was my life and my pride
And, I was her ever loving fool.
Work let off early that night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
When my eyes beheld the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
My Sally was not forthcoming
And, I was blind by love's adoring,
I swear I never saw it coming
The day my Sally went a whoring.
This wasn't some casual adoring
That I might could understand,
This was at our home a whoring
In our bed with another man.
It was a cold and rainy night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
I wasn't prepared for the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The truth came like a blinding light
She couldn't wait to shut the door,
When I came home early that night
While she gaily played the whore!
She glared up at me in surprise
At seeing me suddenly arrive,
I stared back into her lying eyes
Down the barrel of my forty five!
It was a stormy and dismal night
And it kept pouring down in sheets,
I'll never forget the awful sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The Padre' comes to comfort me
My life's now run it's course,
Today my pain will cease to be
Soon, I'll feel no more remorse.
I forgive myself of all at last
My soul will soon go soaring,
Today will soon be o'er and past
The pain, of Sally gone a whoring.
* Malcolm was executed in may of 1969. May God have mercy on his soul.
Timothy I. Brumley
Who has soiled the representation
of these people
with songs they shall speak
me She said before
an audience of
musicians.
The flutist and bassoonist
are engaged, they have engaged in
grinding and rumba.
Might she who wishes us apart
speak of some religious definition
that will trouble these people apart.
That her concern and devoted meddling
shall have us divided from her
need of meddling.....
They Snuck away
to a small town were
they were waited on.
The bed and breakfast had
a small theater were bands
Performed.
They watched a scene from
"Whoring Gypsies"
"Ode To LOve"
the struggle to remember
was the song sang.
They had debated on what to eat
and the waiter dared them to try the Tripe.
it was on the house, due to people lack of
interest in it.
They cursed the chef and and ordered dessert.
Ode to Love
Look to the night
might we stand
together
holding hands
to kiss
the night away
I reherst my whispers
that she would know
what I was saying
I held her close
moaned my tougne was saying
she held my hand
we were one
as lovers
ode to love
ode to love
Oh morning sun
they will know we
are together
Oh morning sun
the day has begun
then what we speak
shall instruct our future
we as one
Lovers and freinds
Ode to love
Ode to us together
The Unbroken Male Voice
she wished to be Malo in
the concerted Awing!
She is the one time’s eyes cannot forget even my
Nose betrays this obsession her my dreams
Sketch in caramel complexion a Rembrandt
Oil painted blood and bone my brush her
Death resurrected and every slumber obliges a
Kneel before her lips my back contorted in
A bow to worship them as my Sun Goddess
Seventy-nine Virgin Muslim combined
Amazing faceless Venus sunset at thirty-three
Thousand feet above your smile owns a sinister
Promise honours to steal your eyes from my
Grasping at straw shadows lost in a pause
Between our bodies of words these prayers
Her body teaches itself to never remember the
Reception making love to her on the maw of
Death that Gentleman Grim Reaper masks
As our bridal bed though still she doesn’t
Know my name an insignificant appendage I
Am only husband to a Moon Goddess and
When we pray she swallows my cosmic
Dust our bodies earthquake to volcanic torture
Appears in rear view mirrors till a calm spell
Is cast by Merlin himself now I beg the
Sand man to keep me in his prison for only
In my dreams this Aphrodite reminisces with me
As her lover in the land of eye lids spread I
Am her whoring Adonis loved only by sunshine’s
Tongue speaks of my attraction to her unholy
Is it not yes but I am weak a man taken over by the
Scent of her touch her toes haunt my imagining
Fingertips whispering to my memories they
Only know how to say goodbye…
Form:
What will they sing of this morning
The women passing by
Coming down from the dry mountain
On their way to the city?
What long time memory
Surrenders the heart in songs?
What joy, what expectation
Through dim brown of dawn
Through the soft bodied mist
Perfumed with fragrance
From the whoring of the trees
With sun?
They carry baskets brim laden
With all the earnings of a season
Between the time of clearing the land
The sweet urge of sowing
And patient tending of what was growing
Out of their purpose,
Some kind of dream illusive before
Some hope of making something
Of the self better than the self
From the anxious reaping
In the back bending sun
To the market of doubt and faith
And relief
That for now its done.
The plans will change again
Children bring sudden emergencies
They do not plan for ...
And yet all of that is carried
In the basket of a song.
I remember lying there
In the passion of the mango season
Hearing the fruits drop
Thinking of them sweetly
Like Melveta
Coming through the guinea grass'
Spindly trail
Melbourne held her hands there
The yellow girl
And the brown boy
The certainty of money
In the color of love
What was I thinking
In my heart without a song?
O not this
Not here in the superficial wilderness
Not this journey
From which my being long
For women coming down the morning
In the mountain of a song.
Who is that unrecognizable figure
Plagued with such deep sorrow
Without the eternal light
To bring her into the marrow
....bone of my bone
.......flesh of my flesh
Never, in a million moments
Would I have guessed it to be this
Married to my only LOVE
Without a promise of a kiss
....just WORD
.....that creates LIFE
.............................in the depths of darkness
I was certain that it was circumstantial
A loss, a grief, a sorrow...in the natural state
After all, I'm a warrior of TRUTH
My heart is secure in HIS....my white light mate
...who has taken me
....into the depths of LOVE
............in worlds unknown, unseen
My soul and spirit are warring
For the experience of whoring...after gods
Pleasure, leisure, lust, feel good stuff
I know, beyond a reflection, I've had enough
....no value
fleeting, meeting...again, retreating, then the beating
.......the rhythm thumping a moving tune
............to dance once more, if the soul could make room
NOOOOOOO! I will not
I am still not there, and I can't act some part
Daddy God...this is my heart
I have given everything to you for LOVE's sake
May you find no backward movement, for me to take
.....what LOVE is not offering
Yielded and flowing...I will let LOVE be
....who He is IN me
written by Trudy Schrader on 06-12-2019