Short Bordello Poems

bordello beauty
exhilarates rich gray beard~
rubies seduce her...

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Resurrection 

Then he died 
As everyone must 
And he entered a tunnel 
Pink light 
Like a boudoir
Sliding on soft silk
Well, I never!
Pity he cannot write 
About it
Doctors resurrected him
They told him 
He had smiled
 So sweetly when they 
Struggled to bring him
 Back to life 
Crucified 
Surrounded 
By Roman soldiers 
Sigh!
His death had been so banal 
A dream of a bordello...

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Don’t be buffaloed it’s not Pancho Villa he’s dead
Just have’n a fling before what lies ahead
I respect Soup Creek and its laws
Although some have their flaws
There are no guns allowed where I am headed

Anaya’s Steak House, sure like the ring to that
A place of my own, where I’m no one’s door mat
On my way to the bordello
And then soon the rodeo
Mis campanero’s, I’m bringing my charro hat!...

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lessons handed down
no acts of kindness
more like the answer
to the question
are we paying attention

back in sixty-five
forty second and San Pedro
backroom of the barber shop
racking pool balls for pennies
or whatever them players
saw fit to handout 

hustle in some folk’s eyes
scripture in others
Gandhi or Elijah Muhammad 
Jesus over Iceberg Slim

a world like a bordello
filled with pimps and Johns
and the only ho' in the room 
was me...

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