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Matthew Sep 2020
There once was a man named John
He was gay
and wished he wasn't

So he decided to try something new
He married a woman
he raised all the goats, prostitutes, and ******* goats
His face formed a straight toothed smile
covering a shadowed tear
his circuits failed to reach a lightbulb
and no connection was made
now he was in prison
for holding an illegal human trafficking ring
and the ******* goats were allowed to roam free.
sometimes you can still hear them calling out to their owner John.
Such a sad story
based on this old poem
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3031425/my-name-is-john/
Ylzm Apr 2020
When love grows cold, we buy and sell
For we rather ******* than despair
—the fighting spirit empowering the Beast—
But love waits, in pain, crying silently unseen
No exchange without the mark of the Beast
Driving to desperation and worship
Those who live by their wits and arms
COVID19 will expose who these are
Xandaria Apr 2020
Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair
The way you bit on my shoulder
Legs
Thighs
Neck
The way you hit my cheek
And left marks of yourself all over me
The way you flung money on my face
The way you kept ******* me
Even though I was asking, begging
PLEADING
For you to stop
The way you screamed,
"Work harder you *****!
I didn’t waste money for you to stop"
And the bruises you left
When I passed out?
I
Am the girl
From the Red Room of The ***** House.
I
Am the ****
Who is ***** everyday
But society says,
"NO. It's all for the easy money"
I
Am the gold-digger
Crying for people to stop.
I
Am the story
Of eighty million **** toys
Behind the Curtains less Doors of Pleasure for Men.
No.
We aren’t **** stars.
We don't become famous for filming obscene videos.
We are just some toys
That men borrow
Like a rental car.
We are the colors
The society talks about in hushed voices
In the corner of a deserted street.
We are the discarded clothes
You never wore
Because they weren’t good enough.
We are the succubuses
Of every man's dream.
We are Pleasure
And
Lust
And
Money
And
Sin.
But,
We die a bit everyday.
We have felt, seen and heard pain
MORE than any one of you here.
We are WOMEN.
But no one holds a candle lit march for us
When one of us is *****.
Because
"It's all for the easy money"
Isn’t it?
We are the Strippers, the Prostitutes, the *****
We
Are the nightmares you never wish to have
We
ARE THE UNSHED TEARS OF A FORGOTTEN PAST.
do you remember me now?
PS Nov 2019
The day that must carry mourn
Wouldn't surprise me if it stood gay

The day where most would expect to hear cries
Wouldn't surprise me if it stayed guffawed

The day where my soul would deserve silence
Wouldn't surprise me if it gets filled with jabber

The day I shall be dressed in my wedding dress --- a stripped hood
Wouldn't surprise me if it didn't shine any light

I'd be disappointed not if the grave that would be expected to hold me as my bed
Decides to throw me out instead

For I, a guilt filled being, doesn't deserve a polite farewell
Consequences of my crime-filled mind that religiously only deserves hell

So carve on my stone when the time comes
“In the memory of … a prostituted ****

Who only wished to provide for herself in a land unknown.”
Oh! Who am I kidding, I will not even be privileged to become a memory unless I atoned.
                                            
~ AllTheLovePS
Sarah Jun 2019
Bare
For him to see
For him to touch and feel
Soft skin under his coarse finger tips
Stifled tears, and a lantern is lit
‘You owe him a laugh’ they said
‘A kiss and a dance in this pleasure night
For he had paid your price’
My price
three golden coins in the pocket of a man
Who kidnapped me when I was a mere child of nine
Who brought me to a house to be beaten and torn
then learn to obey,
I did, for I no longer had a soul
Bare
For him to see
For him to touch and feel
In this nights, and the many nights to be
A stranger with golden coins, A smiling girl with a heart that weeps.
I always sympathize with prostitutes, no one knows what they had been through and how they ended up where they are, yet society judges them.
One never knows the choices he would have made, had he been in their shoes.
By M May 2019
What is a *******?
But a woman
Who partakes in joy with another
A person who provides acceptance and pleasure:
Both emotional and physical
Despite being called "*****"

What is a *******
But a woman
Who nurtures and loves another
A person who provides pain and pleasure
For those in need for a strong hand to the light
Despite being called "crazy *****"

What is a pornstar?
But a woman
Who has the courage to bare her body to the world
A person who provides guidance and desire
To those exploring their sexualities
Despite being called "****"

What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who breaks society's taboos
A person who does what she loves
For those who love her for what she does
Despite being called "disgusting"
"*****"
"****"
"sloppy"
And so much more


What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who is beautiful,
strong,
empowered,
and a truly liberated woman.
I am obviously aware of women being coerced into ****** jobs or doing them because they have no other options but there are women all around the world who love their jobs as *** workers and I think we should respect them and give them the right they deserve.
Matthew Mar 2019
My name is John
And I am gay
I look outside
Every single frickin day

I wish I was straight
So that I could own a goat
And a *******
And ******* goats
Sienna Dec 2018
There’s a woman in the streetlight surrounded by reddish dark
Her body feeling numb, her body feeling stark
As she waits for a man to come and leave his mark
No father or dreams nothing to believe
Sold into this life, her mom is the enemy
And her tears and body are its currency
No point to beg or plead
The lonely men are satisfied when she bleeds
She gives them all and everything
But they continue to feed
Some get careless and leave her to breed
A baby on the way but the world it’ll never see
As the red on her legs triggers tears to the sink
Again she starts the cycle
Smoking a cigarette, sitting under the light pole
Dreading the next man to take her to bed
Knowing sooner or later she’d be left for dead
But the feeling won’t register anymore
As mommy had done this to her
Mommy had made her a *****
And now she’s only wanted nothing more
Then to go to a home and open a door
Without fear of being pushed to the floor
While her body is seen as just another lure
She never asked for this or the ***** kiss
Never wanted to feel it forced in
As her body grows tired and gets fragile and thin
Wishing again and again for a better life as another tear rolls off her chin
And joins the others in the puddle of unwanted sin.
Dea Elizabeth Nov 2018
**** this stupid
Big
******* massive
Enormous
country of ours.
This desolate land
God forsaken.
My skin is too soft,
My heart is too weak
to be dragged up and down coasts
Chasings stories and heartache.
A mail-order bride,
A ******* for love,
the mouse
who ran to the
Predator.
Sara Kellie Oct 2018
We're not all chicken heads Sister.
Just a piece of **** meat
to another ******' Mister.
I wear my knickers with pride
and not now, not ever,
will I have hide.
I'll walk tall in my heels
and not under red.
I sleep kissed in satin,
not prepared to give head.

So if you want some excitement
in your life,
drive back home Sweetie,
make up with your Wife.

Poetry by Kaydee.
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