What is the difference,
Asked the educator,
Between being skillful,
Such as a prostitute,
And being educated,
Such as a teacher?
Well, replied a prostitue,
One educates skillfully,
The other skillfully educates.
Which is which?
The educator responded.
Depends, said the prostitute,
On the pay and benefits.
I feel like if I walked into a church
then I'd probably burst into flames.
Well, maybe you should repent
of your sinful way of living,
accept Jesus into your heart
then go out and love the poor,
as the Lord taught us to do.
Replied the Rent Boy
I do not have a virgin heart..
It's been fucked with,
And torn apart..
My heart is a prostitute,
Getting payed with love-filled lies.
My Virgin body isn't yet caught up.
I gave all that was inside of me,
Trying to protect what I was born with,
My cleanliness, my virginity,
My virgin body is white, pure, clean.
But my heart is black, broken, dead..
Waiting to be revived.
So please, revive my heart..
But don't take my body..
“By any means necessary”
Words of encouragement to my self-depreciated soul
Pure happiness coming at a premium
The outside world strips me; making me its whore
Strange lips and unfamiliar hands cradle me
Satisfaction in this sense is only temporary
Criticism coming from every direction
Questioning whether my lifestyle is necessary
I’ve never enjoyed my naked predicament
However, it’s my only productive option
Allowing simpletons to simply have their way
Faking pleasure, keeping my pain locked in
After so much abuse, I try to be a man
Clothing myself again, sucking up the tears
The world has other ideas
Unleashing every one of my fears
Again, cold and abandoned
I find myself back at square one
Becoming a slave to the world
Just another form of prostitution
Lowered head, into open lap
Thats what you came for tonight
A wet kiss, with your deep release
Thats what you paid for tonight
Smeared makeup, untamed hair
Each man gets to abuse you
Lack of self respect, more shame
All because you choose to
Mommy's attitude, daddy's regret
These are your reasons why
Naked dates, drugs and alcohol
And you just want to cry
Could've done anything, everything
But the money's fast
Fake love, and real pain
And her smile is glass
I have found myself related to Gomer;
yes, I am also a hustler.
She had relationships with different men,
while I engaged myself with my own selfish plans.
She slept with them for so many nights,
while I slept with selfless thoughts, unaware it wasn't right.
She had correlation thinking it was alright,
while I linked myself with faulty motives and to it I delight.
We were hooker in our different ways.
Unrighteous deeds we both had praised.
It corrupted her mind and body,
while it made me a prostitute spiritually.
In the midst of my unfaithfulness and cruelness,
I have found love and forgiveness.
For love came down and bought me with a price,
showed me the beautiful meaning of sacrifice.
The blood of the lamb cleansed and restored my impure soul.
An enough reason that makes me whole.
-Steph Dionisio, December 02, 2015
My heels were well acquainted with the corner of desperate and pathetic
On an avenue very few roamed
My red lips seduced the night away like it would be the last
My hair was easily comparable to the midnight sky
Bruises matching my vibrant eyeshadow
Skin as pale as the moon
My love just something all the married men wanted to borrow
Until the night a 1967 black, Chevy impala pulled up to my side
A young man just out of secondary
With blue jeans and a blazer
He asked what I was doing all alone
"Giving my soul" I replied
Cigarette in hand
"I'll pay for your company" is what he said.
And so he did
He never begged or pleaded for my affection and lust
But he'd pay a thousand just to hear the words fall from my tongue
He plucked me from the streets of New York
Reading parables to me
Since I was illiterate myself
He was only eighteen
Inherited a mother load
I guess he hadn't ever had a real friend
Or a reasonable source to spend his currency
I saw myself in his emerald orbs
He just wanted someone to care
Care for something other than the amount of money he had in his pocket
That, I could comprehend
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, not thinking anything and just staring. A few minutes later she took a deep breath and opened the drawer. Took out a box and observed it for quite long.
She took out a blood red lip color and began to apply. While applying the lipstick she remembered how exciting was dressing up was to her when she was a child. This red color was much brighter to her than now. These bangles were much more fascinating than what they are now. She recalled the days when she use to stole her mother's makeup kit, She recalled how her mother used to beat up as if she had commit any sin.
Her eyes were much sparkling when she was a little kid, Now even the coal pencil cannot bring that shine again.
She stood up without any emotions, She was as blank as a white paper.
The beautiful red lehnga with golden embroidery suits her perfectly, Her long black hair and wide eyes compliments her outfit completely. Oh how beautiful she looks but something is missing. There is no happiness on the face of the girl who always loved to look pretty. She was living the nightmare of every girl of her age. How ominous her life is she wondered, with this thought tear rolled down.
Took a deep breathe and controlled her emotions. Wore her dupatta and came to a room, Decorated with roses and candles and bloom.
It was perfectly decorated like every girl fascinates. But for her this was nothing of value her it is reflected by her face. This room was decorated for her like this everyday, someone awaits for her in the room everyday.
Nights haunt her, moon scares her. Men frightens her. Now she knows why her mother used to stop her whenever she said she wants be like her, Now she knows why her mother cried whenever she hugged her.
These bangles are fetters to her, All the colours are not so happy for her. Her innocence is lost somewhere, she don't even remember when she laughed last without faking.
She is like a body without soul. She is like a night with no moon.