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Whore

Part I

Silence stalks the night-dead docks.


Bollards mushroom cobbled wharves and murky locks.
Primordial beast-like towering jibs
time-frozen in their ten-wheeled cribs.
Sleeping ships rope-cuddle rain-wet walls.
Lifeboats lie uneasy in their falls.
Embowelled within these rusting freighters
she services the fornicators.
Shunt-worn tracks, the path she treads,
by wagons tanks and haunted sheds.
Booms lean out from shadowed decks,
hook-guys slung, For sinners necks!
A dawn-gull screeches like a tart...
She scurries on with pounding heart.
Watchmen clock a toil-worn slut.
Gate-cops step inside the hut
to miss the trespass in the quest
of weary girl with tender breast.
Whore
Part II

Douched, showered, pampered hair


sleeps fitful in suburban chair.
Horror movie in her brain
reels to an end then plays again.
Battered woman, battered child
fleeing in the midnight wild,
far-off town, strangers name,
life in shadows on The Game.
No benefits no prying eyes.
No questions heard no call for lies.
Dont ask yourself whats right or wrong,
just learn the tune then sing the song.
Friends abound who cannot cope,
sweet Sues depressed, Jill chose the rope.
Trish from The Valleys met The Curse,
beaten, drowned and missing purse...

Whore
Part III

Weary woman, bruised and thin,


wakened now by traffic din
or vicious mothers drunken snorts
digs out the facts and then extorts.
Time for Vickys morning call,
innocent among it all
though born of incest, drink and rape
in hell without a fire escape.
Now morning-mum runs kid to school
all middle-class in-vogue and cool,
then joins the girlies for a chat...
cost of living this and that.