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SøułSurvivør Sep 2020

Rose of faded tinsel
Its luster lost at last
Haughty harlot in high heels
She has a ****** past

She wears a
liquid liner smile
Her dress is sequined tulle
She has no taste, it's such a waste
Breaks every fashion rule

She sits there on the bar stool
She's already ******
Turn the card, her eyes are hard
Enough to break a bone

Oh my, what those eyes have seen
Those eyes give no grace
They're like poached eggs within
A wrinkled, haggard face

Do you judge her harshly?
Be careful if you do
The tinsel Rose, the Saying goes

But for God is


Catherine Jarvis
September 7, 2020
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Pale Though Her Eyes
by Michael R. Burch

Pale though her eyes,
her lips are scarlet
from drinking fresh blood,
this child, this harlot;

born of the night
and her heart, of darkness;
evil incarnate,
to dance so reckless;

dreaming of blood,
her fangs—white—baring;
revealing her lust,
and her eyes, pale, staring . . .

Published by Scarlett Memories, Les Felines, Bloodcroft, Vampire Cats and performed on YouTube by G. M. Danielson. Keywords/Tags: vampire, blood, red, lips, child, harlot, night, darkness, evil, incarnate, fangs, lust, pale, eyes
Ylzm Dec 2019
Faith's a gift even as prodigies are gifted
But whereas prodigies are put on a pedestal
Truth's a stranger, exiled from the womb
And life's a harlotry in a foreign land
Ylzm Jul 2019
a shell, a rock, valueless
token of exchange
Cain's creation, perhaps,
impelled by hunger and his mark

today a non attributable lie
a picture of true faith
- but the sword still stands -
speaks more truth than any word can

deeper its insidious roots grow
for the greater its seeming efficacy
displacing the currency of love
for my enemies love me as themselves

but the lie is true
gnawing from the inside out
from nations, to businesses, to people,
a soulless heartless ******* remains

by the sword you live, by the sword you die
Terence Ho Apr 2017
Oh Ye Whose Eyes Hold No Soul,
Wandering the Streets for a bit of gold,
Born a Treasure of Pureness and Grace,
Now Reduced, Hollowed by Stranger's Embrace.

When Oh When, Will the Fire Ignite,
The Embers that Burn In the Gaze of Those Sight.
A Savior She Seeks, But There is None,
None in the World, that will rewrite Her Song.

Look up to the Heavens, there She Sees.
That it is there that Her Glory be Redeemed.
She Reaches Out, Unable to Grasp,
She Cries Out, in Hope and Despair.
In Loving Arms, a Savior Came,
One Whose Heart, Covers all Shame.
In His Wings, He Took Her Up,
In His Grace, She Was Restored
James Alai Feb 2016
I am embarrassed to say
that I fell head over heels
for a psychopath.
This girl had a smile that melted my heart
and a knife that stabbed me in the back.
She had warm lips that kissed me
And sharp teeth that bit me.

Did I mention that she was nuts?

She was a sociopathic, multible peraonalitied, souless harlot
who ****** out my soul and **** me out.

....but she was pretty though
md-writer Aug 2015
they shine
like angels
fallen from above
to tempt the eyes
of frail men

broken trail of wingless years
eyes betray a lonely heart
and hope to make it full at last

they long
like sirens
calling from afar
to turn a foot
by fatal lyre

faithless fickle hearts of men
leave voids unfilled by unshed tears
and ache to wipe the fears away

they lay
like harlots
waxed and oiled
primped and preened
to light the hearts
of fallen men
tempted, turned,
take them away

to darkness

fill the longing, close the void
break the long and hard divide
but moments pass
the deed is done
and into stupor
all undone
the cracked and broken

so we sit
like demons
teeth spread wide

with a halo on the jaws of hell
I hope this doesn't come across as a mysogynist poem, because it's not. In many ways, we can all be angel-demons to each other, whether a man or a woman. But the heart of this poem is to expose the angel-demon of lust and ****** fantasy by tracing the path of temptation.
Carson Hurley Apr 2015
The city sleeps among its incandescence,
she does not.
she watches,
she waits.
Locked in the safety
of her ivory tower,
her pale nakedness
becoming a silky glow in
the dim light of the room.
She is imprisoned
by her beauty,
though she is loved by many
she loves only one.
She waits up for him,
as a stranger
to the sea of sheets
that cling to her bare legs.
She hears footsteps
from down the hall
and questions,
is it her lover?
or is it another
who insists to pay for
her love.
She works the night,
a high end harlot.
Her sorrow wanes
like a wounded cry from
a beaten wolf.
Knuckles wrap against
the hotel door,
and she turns her gaze
from the city outside the window,
her hair moving
like dancing rays of
stolen light.
She reaches for the lipstick
on the night stand,
and walks bare skinned
and beautiful to the door.
free verse
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