Short Brothel Poems

Eerie scene like this
A church and a brothel nest
Side by side in place....

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They closed the brothel....Viagra sales slump.


2/17/2021

They closed he brothel Poetry Contest...

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When the enterprise gets exposed
A brothel finds out it's opposed
The sign in the front
Men meet with a grunt
Says beat it we recently closed...

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Brothel of delights
Temple to serve men and gods
A bridge between void and light

Playground of freedom
Church of law and God's judgment
A bridge falling into void...

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Once - a very, very pious catholic priest,
Comes out of a brothel on lovely morning,
Fiddling with his prayer beads, he whispers:-
"Reception is divine, but price is diabolic"....

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The Vicar of the small town of Fife
Passing a brothel heard shouts of strife,
Flames engulfing the building were rife
Rushed in to save someone’s life
Found he had just saved his wife.

© Harry J Horsman  2012...

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IN MEMORY OF CENTURION 
GAIUS LUCIUS MANIUS 
PRIMUS PILUS FIRST COHORT
LEGIO VI VICTRIX
HE SPENT HIS PENSION
IN CISALPINE GAUL
WHERE HE RAN 
AN HONEST BROTHEL
HIS FUNERAL WAS GRACED 
BY A MURDER OF CROWS
AND GRIEVIOUS LAMENTATIONS
IN THE NAME OF FAIR ISHTAR
DAUGHTER OF SIN AND SHAMASH...

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they closed the brothel
                  to open a bakery 
                tarts still lay around 
           black forests are on display 
    no fresh muffins ~ nothing’s changed 


They Closed The Brothel Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
14/02/2021/ syllable counter PS 5/7/5/7/7...

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He told her the lust he carried.
She told him none 'til they married.
He said," This wait could kill me."
She said," Well, that just could be.
Where would you like to be buried?"

He went to a brothel near by.
The girls all said "no" with a sigh.
They told him,"Honey, don't fear,
You will be married next year."
His grave's on that hill way up high.

5/1/17...

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Life Is A Brothel


Life is a brothel she says
Zipping ten centimetres up the crotch of her
Diesel jeans

How many jobs do you have to take to remove your nose
from the rotten-egg stench;  how many chances do you have to give
the adjustable lighting
to sweep away for you the connections
to breath-gaps?




translated from Hebrew:
Alexa Christopher-Daniels...

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Viens à Maman,
let me show you how that shameful thing is done, 
you konw, with ink on paper,
for you not to be sorry anymore,
in the morning with croissant Triomphe 
and floating island by Abyssinian charms.
Fix your shoe laces, suck your belly
and grab me by the aorta.
Let go of me
over Père Malin´s brothel,
for more than three coins.
Eat it all up! 



From URBIS (Paralela 45 Publishing House, 2016)
Translated by me....

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A look i took at her flesh
Waiting to see something fresh 
But fancied not the tissues
With which she had has issues...

In her mind lots had clustered,
For she had seemed quite flustered:
Might I roles play of Duster;
And I the courage muster?

Then, I sensed some brothel behind
Where she would paradise find...
But in reality life grind
And foulest Demons unbind
"So it's all about a mind 
Its owner made sure went blind!"...

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Beyond the sex 
he was sleepwalking in shame
hiding his faith ingloriously.

A poacher in harem 
of politics, where you stack the hidden
virility for killing the money.

A single mate must die
making love on screen in the vicinity
of god’s house.

The monstrous lie will
press the knife to the lips
for shedding the blood of a monk in a brothel.

If we must forget
the accidental shot,
the spring will never come to olive grove.


Satish Verma...

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Mind; O Beauty
My mind of thinking is autonomous
On this forlorn golden brothel

So, let's
Be wanderer
On this independent trunk of the sky
Like the goalless morning breezes

So, let's
Be traveler
On this independent chest of earth
Like the goalless ever-flowing stream of the river

So, let's
Be dreamer
In this independent brothel of the loving heart
Like the epoch maker verses of the classical poet

Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee...

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I’m covered in dirt,
  but my words are still clean

A vision half dried
  with stains running deep

With sinners and saints
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection we share
  tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets
  from a brothel once scorned

As I lie in the shadows
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free
  —to the heavens restamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)...

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I’m covered in dirt,
  but my words are still clean

A vision half dried
  with stains running deep

With sinners and saints
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection we share
  tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets
  from a brothel once scorned

As I lie in the shadows
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free
   —to the heavens restamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)...

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House turns into brothel today, near and dear seems prostitute
glory of saree has lost in clownish luxury, lost their gentle look.
Facebook and Messenger continue to serve them freely thereon
dating, chatting and adultery shows barbarian prostitution.
How will they open cloths! If there any cloth on the breast!
pussy is open without pounds! for rice only prostitute try their best.

N.B. This is the translated form of one of my poetry written in Bengali language....

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I’m now covered in dirt,
  but the words are still clean

A vision half dried,
  their stains running deep

The sinners and saints,
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection they share,
  --- tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses,
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets,
  from a brothel once scorned

And as I lie in the shadows,
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free,
  --- to the heavens now stamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)...

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