#stripper
They call her stripper here,
but in every city she wears another name
temptress, witch, sinner, saint.
Under the bruised red lights
she moved like smoke,
her fingers dragging over her own skin
as if summoning fire.
Men watched with hunger,
their eyes begging,
but the fool in me
was fixed on hers.
The law was carved into the walls:
watch, do not touch.
Yet she broke distance,
closing in,
her weight pressing on my lap,
perfume like poisoned roses.
She danced,
smiled
a lily of sin blooming in the dark.
Her eyes sparked like razors in the night,
cutting clean through me.
I whispered, hoarse,
“Your eyes are beautiful.”
Her lips bent into something sharp.
“Are you here to watch me tear myself open,
or here to drown in my eyes?”
I told her,
“Your eyes.
Through them, I see your soul.
Through them, I touch your heart.”
Her mouth brushed mine
a kiss like a knife,
soft and lethal.
Then she slipped away,
claiming the next fool.
And I sat there,
bleeding from a kiss
I would never forget.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 9:12 PM UTC
She’ll make you use the good Lords name in vain.
One looking in her; no star gaze is ever the same.
Body turning, legs spin and frail,
Socks red as a fox stripped, swirling like a candy cane.
Exotic stares, confident; she can’t be tamed.
She so fine, Whine, might be your name.
With her smoking body; rough on the edges
Burning with passion, pushing me over the ledges.
Let’s call her Mary Jane, like the tattoo says.
Her lyrics stuck in my head, the way she turns and bends.
Leaves much to be said.
She whispered in my ear;
When on stage, close her eyes; so she can disappear.
Her stile there; so it appears.
In her own mind; the picture is clear.
Dancing in bedroom mirror; no one else there.
The gin and tonic, make it clear.
The chasers, chase her fears.
The different pills, keep her sane.
It’s the need for money, keeps her here.
But the fast money, is quick to disappear.
Along with looks; it is part of this atmosphere.
While tattoos fade and wear;
Yet, dark enough to hide her fears.
The Exotic dancers; that nobody hears.
Some will listens, many pretend, nobody cares.
The music playing; more than music to her ears,
The lyrics screaming, making her point clear.
The dark nails, scratching the surface,
She crawl’s near. Matter of fact,
Between me, her, and the beat
There is no one else here.
All eyes on her; squawk and stare.
Longing for attention,
didn’t want it all there.
But talk is cheap; the truth, dare.
Searching for hope, won’t find it here.
All this attention, lacking care.
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 11:00 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
if the dollar that paid for my soda
was ever in a strippers underwear.
And then...I wonder
if the cashier is ever thinking the same thing.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
A headless man
in a ******* bar,
see's **** and ***
and thinks its a star.
“She can cook my meals
and **** my socks …
and give me all her money
as our bed rocks.”
“I'll do her friends,
whether they want me to or not.
She'll never leave me,
I'm all that she's got.”
“She deserved that black eye …
God, she never shuts up!
I about died laughing when she told the cops
that the bathroom door beat her up!”
“Those things her Uncle did to her?
Well, I'll do them too.
Who gives a crap about her feelings?
She's just here to *****
“And when I'm done with her,
I'll just head right back to the bar …
A little loot, a little blow, a perfect net …
to catch another falling star.”
To him a woman is an object …
No soul, no life, no heart.
And like a spoiled kid with some fancy toy …
He just wants to take her apart.
He really can't help it.
According to science, he was born this way.
And just as some new girl takes to the pole …
there's another like him, and he's destined to find her one day.
Those mirrors everywhere? They aren't there to help you see …
They've a much more evil job.
They're there so she can see and witness herself taking dollars …
from some old, pervy slob.
They cover those walls so the dancers are forced to watch …
what was once, Daddy's little girl.
To convince her she is now worthless on a downward descent …
and falling deeper with every twirl.
Oddly, eventually … she accepts this new self …
in what seems like soft, shiny skin.
The pounding music and the flashing lights …
all there to help her win.
She soon revels in this adoration …
from men she once would never speak to.
*** and drugs and rivers of whiskey …
All there to see her through.
One day she wakes and looks in the mirror …
Thinning hair, crows feet and bruises on her arms.
Daddy's little girl has long gone away …
replaced with a whore's worldly charms.
"Who have I become?"
"What have I done?"
"I was only looking for a little excitement …
extra money and maybe some fun."
"How did I waste my life away …
and from it, nothing to show?"
"I never saw it coming, all so easy to do …"
A trap … sprung long ago.
A trap so intoxicating … brainwashed without a clue.
She ponders “Who would want me now?” … Just another fallen star.
She puts on her makeup … and packs her bag …
and heads on back to the bar.
The cheers, the money, the lights, the ***** …
have now become her vows.
The greedy owner, ***** bouncers and catty co-workers …
they are her family now.
Soon enough, it will come to an end.
If not with her dead on the floor cold …
then replaced by a much younger model …
a new, unsuspecting 18 year-old.
And so the cycle starts again …
Through the door comes the man with no head.
In no time at all, the mirrors will do their job …
and she'll end up in his bed.
A dream in a blindfold or a nightmare she refused to wake up from?
It matters not in this instance.
Either path, a dance off a cliff …
A distinction without a difference.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
i watch her from below.
every time she descends,
slides down the pole,
time slows
until it comes to a stop.
she moves her body gracefully,
head held high,
professionally,
she sways her hips
puckers her lips
as intoxicated exhilarated men
shower her with tips
but she glows,
vividly against neon lights,
like a firefly who cannot cry
so it burns bright
till the day it dies,
on the brink of death,
she shines like a
star on its final breath
i watch her from below
she says she’s used to it,
but i know
her better
than all the body glitter—
i watch her from below,
still i cannot say anything
for i am
nothing but a mere spectator
of her show.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
All I hear is talk about success.
Words that come through one ear and get stuck deep in the chest
Money, fame, a leading career
But all I got is debt, a bad temp job, and a cold cracked beer.
Bills keep accumulating, time is running short
Unfulfilled dreams in every adult life, makes you wonder if it’s all even worth a shot
If my morals were a bit lower and my chest a bit bigger I would already be a stripper
Life’s set up so you are born a quitter
Started from the bottom and stayed there
Because can’t climb a mountain without the proper gear
Don’t have money for the hooks, nor the time to hit the books
In this date and time, I’d probably be better off investing in my looks
Working full time, studying full time, living part time,
Do it for now, because this is it, you are at your prime.
It’s only temporary, it’s all worth it because you are climbing the corporate ladder,
Your work is timed, you better not use off the company’s time. Better hold onto your bladder
Maybe I’m better off trying to climb up that stripper pole
Because exposing yourself seems better than this slow mental death. Come on stare at my hole
Because my mind is gone, didn’t make any gold, just kept on the digging
Here I am swinging, and tripping, you better keep on tipping.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
My eyes have no whites.
My age, gave me stale white sheets
White light, black curtains.
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC
I've got my warrior ******* on
Wolverine lent me these acrylics
Lasso your credit card with my weave
Tuck your tunnel vision in my G-string
This is my ******* song
Got my bad girl heels on
You can't get me off your mind
So how you gonna get me off
Come over to the throne room
I've got an after for you baby
What other religion costs $25 per song
Give me your devotion
I want Matronage
Ritual
When I was 19 I turned days into kalediscopes
Water into water
Paper covers rock
And coke cures a bad trip
Trip over my perfume
You won't spend money on me High on life
So let's get you depressed
Tell me your story sad boy
I've got rent to pay.
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
sometimes it gets old
watching you shed those clothes
in the light
every night
if i loved you,
maybe i'd marvel
like those men
but it feels so grotty
so sleezy
nothing like those fantasies
i used to have
you're mine but you're not
every night
you belong to everyone
but no-one
i try and i try and i try
to feel something
but you gave yourself away
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
She was just another schoolgirl
Dreams of marriage and of kids
She had devoted parents
They loved everything she did
Nothing could deter her
from the choice that she had made
Turning seventeen, she left her home
in Forest Glade
Moving north to Epsilon
She chose another route
She would be a dancer
Taking money from the suits
She started slow in Epsilon
A club girl from the start
She had a phony i.d
But she sure could play the part
Was she a dancer or an actress
Seems she was one and the same
She chose to go as Crystal
Though that wasn't her real name
She danced a bit and moved around
The lifestyle she liked
She was dancing up in Buffalo
When she met a guy named Mike
They dated and got married
Soon a kid was on the way
When he found out she was pregnant
He packed up and moved away
She was nineteen and without a chance
To get a better life
Who would want a dancer
With a kid to be his wife?
Nobody that she knew
That would be for sure
And just like the little girl she was
She always wanted more
She had her son, named Ferguson
She then enrolled in school
She was gonna be a big thing
She would not be no ones fool
She chose to keep on dancing
Working late nights, dancing hard
Saving up her money
So she'd get her son a yard
She was still a little girl deep down
She still had real big dreams
She didn't want the normal life
She wanted the extremes
She was a dancer, mother, daughter and
A sutdent every day
She had to keep them separate
Had to keep her lives at bay
She'd many personalities
Depending on her place
She handled each role expertly
With poise and with such grace
By day she was a mother
And a student on the side
She did both of them expertly
And she showed off both with pride
At night she was a dancer
Schoolgirl, teacher, and much more
She would be a patrons fantasy
But she hid down in her core
The little girl she really was
Stayed deep and far from them
She was also now an actress
Dancing, doing things for men
At night when she was finished
She would go home to her boy
She would bend and kiss him as he slept
For he was her pride and joy
She'd then go hit the shower
Washing all their dreams away
She would wash away their kisses
She would make herself okay
Each night she'd play another role
To keep the men entranced
She would change her look up daily
As on the stage she pranced
They'd pay her for her company
And they'd worship all she did
But, all she ever thought about
Was something better for her kid
She finished school in record time
A manager she'd be
She took a four year course
And she finsihed it in three
She didn't have the money
To quite make her dreams come true
But, she now had a diploma
And inside, her pride just grew
She was now a feature dancer
She was the top of mens desires
But the job was getting weary
In fact, our girl was tired
She had her different roles to play
Still mother, daughter, and
At night a dancer actress
In an pornographic land
She'd go home every night and see
Her son there in his bed
She'd go and have her shower
And she'd kiss him on his head
She'd wash away the garbage
Wash away her hidden life
Once again she thought of
Being a mother and a wife
Normalcy, would not be hers
She'd have to move along
She'd done well for her young boy
She had not done too much wrong
A new life far from Buffalo
Would be the thing to do
She's now a mother and a daughter
And she might live next to you
She broke the chains that bound her
Used her dancing to improve
Made herself much stronger
And she then did up and move
Now she doesn't go home late at night
To wash away the grime
She can go home and go out to play
To give her son some time
The sad fact is there's lots of girls
But not as strong as her
They do not escape the dancing
When they end up, no one's sure
But Crystal, she's a hero
For she made herself move on
She's a mother, actress, daughter
with a super cool young son
Where she went I don't know where
But, she ended up on top
Ther rumours were she married
In fact they said that he's a cop
they say that she's still out working
In the clubs, out with the girls
But she's no longer a dancer
She's out showing them the world
She's helping them get into school
They confess to her their sins
She knows of what they talk about
For she's been just where they've been
She doesn't go by Crystal
She now goes by her real name
But, she might just live next door to you
And to tell would be a shame.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 6:26 PM UTC
I don’t think I offended her,
And I don’t think she was sad
But the way she looked out at us
With envy, perhaps,
As we walked out of the club
Left me feeling something
In the pit of my stomach
I can’t quite understand.
She stared as if
We were kids at the party,
Boredom matching desires
To let the night take fire,
Arriving in nice cars,
Ordering expensive drinks
Watching a show
We'd only paid money to see.
She stared as if
Not from her view;
Legs split
Betwixt stage and sound,
Dancing somewhere between
Some kind of neon dream,
And a place she’d prefer not to be.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
I thought of you, when you thought of me.
I deleted all our memories off my phone.
The ones where we're smiling,
As if in a few short months,
We didn't know we'd be nothing to each other,
You gave me a quiet hey,
I gave you a simple nod,
We asked about each other's lifes,
I found that quite odd,
Because it feels like just yesterday,
You knew me better than myself,
But you told me about your new job,
1500 a night,
Taking your clothes off for girls,
As if that was right,
I asked jokingly if you charged extra for the guys,
You nodded without missing a beat,
I felt chocked up inside,
I just grinned and said I remember when I got all of that for free.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
Far far away
As though locked in a room
A doll in a cupboard
Is a girl called Alice
Alice the stripper
I myself at home looking for connection
Flick through cams
As though searching yellow pages
My attention caught
As though an anchor
Was around my heart
I stop on Alice
Fragile and vulnerable is what I see
I take her to
""Private chat""
And I tap my keyboard
As fast as hummingbirds wings
To make a connection
But it is no use
As clothes fall of her like broken slates
Of a discarded building
Only to reveal half robot
Half dead human being
I type, "STOP STOP"
But she is lost in her routine
An act of ****** pleasure
"Please stop" ,I type
But her soul scattered
As though beaten away
By stampeding Rhino
For a while we just
Float together
In outer space
Where are you Alice
My heart bleeds
As though a spell had been broken
A nervous silence is ruptured
And like Apollo 13
As she types "hello"
Houston calling Houston
A relief breaths through
My whole being
I type, " hello there"
And ask how are you
I thank her for her **** routine
Then she in response springs back up
As though being controlled
By a remote
Held in my hands
"No No No need no need", I cry I type
" just talk just talk I don't want this"
My heart feeling her vulnerability
Reaches through the screen
seeking to cover like a blanket
Shortly after she covers herself
With a beautiful Royal Blue blanket
I type ," That colour looks beautiful on you
You must wear it when Mr Right
Invites you to a ball
And I tell her she would be stunning
And would shine in that blue
And the lucky man would be the envy of the ball
A sparkle for the first time
Returns to her eyes
Even more beautiful now I feel
It was as though a harvest moon
Had found a gap through
Thick clouds on a very dark night
As her soul returned home
She began to blossom
Like a brave crocus flower
Pushing through the snow
My soul danced with pleasure
As the love in my heart
Spun around her with the joy
Of a long lost planet
Who had just found his sun
As time passed my need to leave
The conversation approached
I asked her to promise me
To always , Love yourself Always
And to know that you are
A treasure
And that you are special
Her eyes began to well up
As my heart swelled up
As a tear drop fell on her being
It was welcomed like the first
Drop of rain
After a long hard drought
After on my way to friends I pondered
Why is it
Like diamonds in coal
Are jewels so easy to find
In dark places
But become so rare
In the light of prosperity
And why so easily condemned
By world
Which stands on moral castles
Built by the power of
Their own pride and vanity
They have their reward on their tower
I feel Jesus would say
I think
If the love in my heart
Is that of our God
I know who
HE LOVES MOST
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Music provides a blanket of background noise,
As you sit, in a velveteen chair, legs parted, hands on your knees,
I stand between them, silhouetted against flashing gold lights,
I stare down into your upturned face & slowly begin to undress.
Piece by piece my clothing drops to the floor at your feet,
Pooling around my clear, stiletto heels.
Your eyes too drop down, lingering on my *******
My skin, soft & sun kissed, shimmers golden in the soft light.
I turn slowly, allowing every curve of my body to be illuminated,
The arch of my back, the contour of my hip & the arc of my buttocks
Your eyes trace down my thighs, now spread & back up,
As I bend, & reveal my inner most secrets to you.
My sweet opening that promises so much pleasure,
Just inches from your lips & your tongue & your pleasure.
Slowly I slide to my knees, down on all fours, face to the floor,
Inviting you to enter me, visually, take me with your eyes,
I turn to meet your groin & I watch with interest,
As I play with my ****** at the stirring that may come.
I rise up instead, to my knees, cupping my ******* blowing,
On my now ***** ******* & my eyes reach yours,
And time & space hold for us, as we join together, for a second,
Before I lean in, my breath on your cheek & I whisper,
That's £20 please.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
If you can keep your dignity when all about you
Are losing theirs and pretending its not true,
If you can avoid contact when all men want you,
But straight faced act like you want them too,
If you can force a smile and never tire of smiling
Or being fake, never believe the lies
Or being grabbed, never give way to slapping
And yet listening to ***** just bat your eyes
If you can dance – and use it to men master
If you can flirt – and not fancy, play a game
If you can have nights o’ triumph and disaster
And come back to work just the same
If you can bear to hear some filth to you spoken
Uttered by fathers to get off on, the fools
Or watch brothers pretend they’ve just woken
And to our sisters, say they play by the rules
If you can make one big heap of cash earnings
And not think you won’t ever make a big loss
And save, and start again as if you’ve no savings
And never boast or act like the boss
If you can force your mind and body and sinew
To serve endless men like they’re the only one
And be a drunkard, when there’s not drop in you
Accept it’s a job and it’s a job to get done
If you can talk with rich men who have no virtue
Or sit with ****** – not attend to their crotch
If neither boss nor floor staff ever alert to you
If all the girls like you, but none too much
If you can stay how you feel this minute
With your innocent heart pure and head clear
Yours is the strip club and the cash that’s in it
And – which is more – you’re a stripper, my dear!
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Fake hair
Fake name
Fake nails
Fake game
Fake smile
Fake tan
Fake brow
Fake can
Fake laugh
Fake lips
Fake brow
Fake ****
Buried deep
Under all this fake
Is a girl
With money t' make
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
It isn’t easy to love a girl
Who gives it up too much,
It takes a strong and open mind
To see beyond her crutch
To love her with an open heart
And forget those other’s touch
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
I’m literally sitting here. Literally. I’m figuratively doing nothing. This time allows me to think. Contemplate; the future of this mess we call adolescence. You look at the clock. Tick tock…kids stepping over my feet, as I literally sit here. Figuratively doing nothing. I’m breathing. Writing. Forming a collection of words in this memo. They don’t fit together, realistically. I would go for a smoke, but I have no cigarettes. I am a sixteen year old, who is too awkward too phone her boyfriend’s home phone, and too awkward just to pop round. I have to see miss in an hour, there’s a kid who’s sad and I have to talk to him.
Apparently I am confident. I’m not. I just listen to powerful music which makes me feel like I can be a queen. That’s the idea. To feel comfortable you need to not care, and look after yourself. You are queen, you care for your subjects. You rule with fair point. You go out and buy yourself a crown, or shoplift one. I don’t know, just whatever makes you feel like the main ***** Find what you like about yourself and spark it. Make what you like stand out. Find the things you dislike about yourself and show it off. I don’t like my **** but hey, just shake it a bit and it’s like simple twerking. I have thunder thighs which consist of a fair amount of muscle; I have perfected the **** drop. I have become stronger because of what I put myself through. I am the only one who can hear my thoughts. So if at first you’re thinking ‘holy **** I’m terrified, what if I look like a **** fake it.
After acting like this powerful alter ego you can become her. She takes over at times. I can switch between quiet, shy Sophia; into the proud, queen ***** Patricia. Patricia the stripper. I admit this is my alter ego. She wears red lipstick, a leopard coat and thigh highs. She owns a tiara and blows bubbles in her gum. She struts to punk music and breaths arctic monkeys. She dances to jack white, ***** wiggles and all. She sings Kate Nash and the kooks, because she needs to keep her showgirl ship with class and talent as well as outright hot radiation. She has no idea what she is doing, as long as everyone is happy and entertained; she is satisfied with her life. She loves everyone because they all contain a characteristic she adores.
I also have another alter ego who has no name. This is the first time I’m referring to her as her own alter ego. She’s like a ****** of crows. An unkind of ravens. She wears dangerously applied dark makeup. She always wears full black. She’s pretty much a Goth who thrives on shock, horror and Edgar Allen Poe. Her favorite author is Stephan king and she has murderous thoughts. She pouts. She is, oh so pouty; with darkened lips of a cherry flavor. She makes sassy comments which sometimes come out as unintended bitchiness. She scares people, but they call her cool. She’s a bass player, with a strong stance and a black bra and thong set. She smokes like a chimney. She has ash-ened dark lungs like her mind. She’s my biting ***** ego. She hates anything that’s negative in the human spectrum of life. Ironic. She can’t stand hate but embodies it. She smiles at kids playing or people busking. Under the black shell intended to scared, she has the interior of a marshmallow. Fluffy hair, pastel teddy choker, and a love for giggling. She smells or strawberries, cherries and bubble-gum. She is actually really happy; this drives people mad as they can’t label her…neither can I, unless this pinkie paradise is one of her own. Like all my egos…she is happy.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
The look from her eyes, will make your knees buckle.
Old game; same struggle, different hustle.
With a croaked smile; she whispers, “I love you.”
Thighs, chasing highs, cause highs- heals;
lovely view; your daily double.
Tried beginners luck; who gives a ****
Heads and Tails; and things still aren't looking up.
That's the closest; some will get; the rest giving up.
So much for getting lucky.
Luckily, Misery hates company;
Unless they accompany.
Lots of money to cover fees.
Monkey see,
Monkey do,
You ain't telling me.
Good girl on the streets,
But in the sheets,
Nothing but trouble
Likes is rough.
Using your weak spots,
her strong points; tough
they will make you struggle.
Rubbing her strengths against you,
All skill, applying her iron will; until
you burst your bubble.
Her feelings; out of reach
Those things; will get you in trouble.
No love lost; tough lessons taught.
The experience they brought.
No family, no Friends; The endz;
In God we Trust; is all she can trust.
Saving her life away, still ain’t enough.
Men lie, women lie; that’s enough.
Life is rough; but she’s keeping up.
Won’t get the best of her, can’t say it enough.
Life’s a ***** and the devil filleth her cup.
Now Karma's coming after me; *what the ****
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC
I think her best work is on stage.
Spotted lights, animal caged
Northern Pole; just phase;
Skin, Flesh, Yearning, Craved.
Cover girl issues,
makes front page.
to touch her
HEART
you gotta
feel
her
PAIN.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC