Prostitute
Instead of money
Sells the body
Prostitute
Instead of money
Buys the body
Prostitute
Instead of money
Exchanges the morality
Prostitute
Instead of morality
Kills the humanity
© Mahtab Bangalee/2025_April
I’ve known the streets: Places where the night lingers and the echoes of passing cars feel distant.
My feet have grown accustomed to the dim-lit alleys.
I walked past shuttered windows when the city slept, listening for the familiar footsteps that come and go.
I leaned against the brick walls, my breath clouding in the cold air, and
I whispered in low tones, watching headlights sweep across the pavement, and
I felt the city thrum with unseen stories.
I’ve known the streets: Quiet, restless streets.
My feet have grown accustomed to the dim-lit alleys.
I’ve lain stretched out, my body bare to the night, where beauty and sorrow mingled in my broken bones.
I’ve forsaken my soul for a walking dead man’s pleasure, trading dignity for a moment’s release.
I wanted to retire, live on the beach in Miami, listen to the waves crash on the shore.
But another car has stopped at the curb, and I must wear that smile that pulls at a lonely man’s groin.
A drab forty something,
mother of six snotty noses,
tie dyed shirt two sizes too small.
Nipples poking through the thin cloth.
Fuzzy pink slippers and yoga pants,
ass like the surface of the moon,
with mountains and craters well defined.
Dirt blond hair with three-inch black roots.
Lights the joint stuck between caked lips,
blows smoke into the space,
separating her from reality.
Out of breath she waddles to the bed.
When he tells of the goddess,
that took his immaturity,
there’s one thing he never mentions.
The twenty he left on the table.
Walking about las ramblas at night you can see the desperation with a constant feeling of trepidation
People that never got much of an education not one qualification
Prostitutes selling their body to feed a habit and pay for their accommodation as Dealers sell to addicts who want that pleasurable sensation to forget about their life situation
You can buy heroin or crack or if you want a combination while the police and big gangsters are actually in communication giving them money so they don't launch a single criminal investigation so they can smoothly run their operation and there is no threat to their illegal money making organisation
You can even see people sleeping on the ground that had left their home nation in search of a better life but only found poverty and social devastation
My smiles just for the institution,
Which trifles not with constitution:
Brooks not the safest prostitution,
Defaulters starving restitution...
Institution that works with tuition
To minds prepare for intuition,
So that yesterday's Dumped Destitute
Is not today's Bitter Prostitute...
Institution tasting sweet Appeal,
No plans to Sacrosanct Laws repeal:
A body for Routine procreation
Of men with famished eyes on fruition.
That's institution for Rubber Stamp
None other ever served as the Lamp
Prostitution is considered immoral activity,,
Legal in red light city..
You're more than that
We're you're together
You're more than mine
or your's forever
We're my and you're's
you're toys for pleasure
Where I and you are
boys for measure
For pride and prose
of love you'll centure
To me and have you
talk to lecture
And make me feel
just like the man
That others wait
for holting fan
And I will see you
dead for sure
When all my power
fills my ruhr
And I will surely
rule you fear
Unless Dear John
dirs I'm am fear
And I must take
to fighting him
But not as I
fear mocking slim
So I can go on
hating you
Though all I do
is wait and stew
Hopeful that I'll be as saved
when that day runs me sacriapay
and I can see you from the Heaven
that I can say your my past revlande
And you will see me taken in
by all the hatred I have been
For all the others I have sinned
And lost my way while they will ginh
And I will say I told you so
I'm betrayed as all you show
And you won't say to me again
Where I go is lost Amen
What type of mother pimps out her own daughter?
Bar Steward Town
They do it in this town it helps feed the hordes
And put illegal weapons on the table weed
Class A drugs and stolen goods are bought and sold
To sell on for further gain more crimes carried out
Adding to illicit gains from the sex trade
A buck suck and the cheapest in town
If you take advantage of this service
You perpetuate this and make it worse
Bar Steward Town the UK's worst
Nowhere comes close to this where a mum
Pimps out her own daughter for cash
And doing it herself the best teacher
This is the way it is generation to generation
Will the daughter's daughter be the same?
Do you prove you're a whore or more sell yourself short
When you say, "I'm a Christian! I'm Right! I am SAVED!"
Is there 'FAITH' in this statement? Don't whores know they sin?
Don't most alcohol addicts confess they're not strong
In themselves? Who brags that days sober proves win?
Is forgiveness of self more a drug that you snort?
Is there any sin worse than unwarranted pride?
Are you confident sin can exist that's not yours?
Friend, to know that you sin is your first baby schlep
Toward pure Grace and the magical, mystery tours
That humility shows us; it's part of the prep
For an act in the big tent, not show on the side!
You're a whore, and you know it? That's step up for some!
But to see I still sin does not mean I resign
From all hope. We can shine yet! The Grace that we give
Shows connection to Christ, though in sin we still pine
For what's certain. In "FAITH," in Christ's death, let me live
And give bearhugs to 'Johns' who think I'm one that's dumb!
Brian Johnston
12th of October in 2019
Paint runs, it slowly drips, from the cold,
Wet corner of her cell,
The corner where she stands all day,
Where no one hears her yell,
With her tight clenched fists against her lips,
Eyes staring straight ahead,
Nobody sees this girls torment,
Not caring what she said,
Because she screams alone inside her mind,
In the black, cold empty space,
While on the outside men only ever say
They love her pretty face,
You see, she wears the string, swings on a pole,
Her body is all for sale,
But in her mind she hurts all alone,
In a cold, wet lonely jail.
political prostitution
not stable
not even with their
words nor
actions
they got no vision
for the people
is just about business
yet we pay the
price of their games
political prostitution
not reliable
never keep to
his words
his action are
painted with
colours of manipulation
he never stand for
his country
neither does he
defends the justice
of the land
is business as usual
yet we pay the prices
of their games
political prostitution
never work with one
political party
always jumping around
hoping off and on
from one political power
to another
for his own interest
always denouncing out
and swearing in to
different parties
like prostitute
he go no mission
for us
but vision to earn
more money
the parties are their
shad
political prostitution
always with lies
always manipulating
always deceiving
always intimidating
we need them no more
we need to move
ahead
we have had enough
the more of their shadow
the more suffering keep
knocking on our doors
the more protest
on our street
the deaths on our streets
the inflation on our land
so if we must survive
we need no more
political prostitution
We say prostitution is a disgrace in our nation ,
But when the girls them taking of their clothes we quick to watch them pose.
We say they are nasty for selling their body ,
But yet in this society we are the ones taking away their dignity .
We entertain the thought of them selling their body to make money ,
We satisfy our hunger pay and throw them in a corner.
We treat them like their a piece of trash lying on the floor waiting to be thrown out the door,
We never take them as a wife because they say they'll remain a hoe for life .
We play with them as we like and when some can't take the pressure they end their life ,
In this society we all like to criticize but fail to realize what people go through in life .
But ofc this is from one perspective ,
These girls could of choose another objective .
A bargained companionship
sexual moment so temporary
then a stranger again when time’s up
You wanted a "good time"
That's what you got
You thought I was easy
That I am not
But later on
I'll see you in hell
Because that's surely where
We'll dwell
Look, sex is a crazy business
You shouldn't have got involved
Now where has it got you?
Your body is dissolved
You weak man
Arrogance and stupidity isn't a great mix
Thanks to you
I just earned a badge to my bag of tricks
You thought you'd get lucky
Thanks for the money
Sorry about the blood
Honey
But this is a tricky business
You lost your life
And before the climax
At least I enjoyed.. oh yes, holding that knife
Prostitution
I never liked horses,
oh yes, they are beautiful
and dumb
and crap in their food
on the grassland of forever.
Horses are like Romanian women,
you catch them, rape them
and tamed you sell them
in Hamburg as tame whores,
who can be ridden by any man
for a bit of cash.
And all the owners of horses have
to do is to serve them weed.
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