A HEART OF GOLD

I will start things off with one of my own examples of this competition's theme to give you an idea.  And, through the two weeks it's active, I will post more of my own ink, and imagery of mine and from elsewhere, to help inspire those who need ideas for prompts.  Feel free to pm me if you have a question.

So here we go, and remember, TWO WEEKS, bags of time. GOOD LUCK!:

1. POETRY ONLY; ANY STYLE
2. TWO ENTRY LIMIT
3. NEW, and/or FORMER INK
4. NO EXTREME CONTENT/ GRAPHICS IN TEXT or IMAGES
   (pm me if you're not sure)
5. FACT or FICTION
6. RESPECT THE SUBJECT
7. NO COLLABORATIONS
8. TITLE YOUR INK

TWO SISTERS: Sexy & Babs

As non-paying guests, Babs and I have crept in  
to a private room on the 19th floor of  
one of those Las Vegas high-toned hotels.  

A ballroom party downstairs, ready to roll,  
of course we don't wait 'cause that's just not our thing.  

Instead, while stripping, even down to our bling,  
we laugh, girly-like, for being so naughty.  
 
There's a bubble bath drawn, steam starting to rise,  
a pink scalloped tub, with a ducky inside!  

"Sexy sista', aren't we so lucky?", Babs squeals.

We leisurely soak 'round the pink, sweaty tiles.  
Shiny tangled fingers, and rosy toesies;  

a carnal frolic of bobbing nakies, 'till  
the sight of us proves a royal bombshell  
on the just-arrived drunken gentleman guest!  

His tux all disheveled, the old gent returns,  
his escort arm candy half-out of her dress,  

on the company tab, 'cause hey, after all,  
the corporate exec should never be wanting,  
even if he can't get it up anymore!  

Oops! Pardon me, I'm sure.

We giggle, 'cause we'll make sure he won't be bored.  
Like seals, Babs and I boldly go to the bed.  

Stretching bodies and limbs, I reach to touch sis,  
she rolls her head as she sighs, her eyes meet mine.    
What comes next won't matter, our movements incline.  

Music from the party beginning to throb
up where we are, shaking booties right & left;

Ms Arm-candy watches, her date starts to lean.  
He topples over and falls off the divan,  
"Ohh that poor man!"; she teeters on stilettos  

near the bed, to grin her red gash-for-a-mouth,  
and jiggle in time as her orbs dance about.

"This is just too easy", says I, to my sis
involved in delecti, with both hands engaged,  
filled with my two round backside beauties, still wet.  

We look at Arm-candy, who's dress is now gone,  
I ask Babs, "Do you think he's had enough yet?"  

The wavy-haired blonde tosses back her champagne,  
then kicks off her red pumps, and drinks more again  

"I tell you, meh sista,"says I, with a pout,  
"have you ever seen this in all your born days?"

"Now I dare say, I'd know if ever I had",
Babs flips back her hair, "cause this sure does look bad."

"Let's leave, I'm starting to feel sorry for her,
I can't figure it out, she's no place to go."

"Check the old sod's billfold, then give it the ditch.
This certainly's no way for us to get rich."

"Come on, girl, we'll take you back home to our digs,
and learn you some new tricks, you can get off with."


Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.

Soiled doves and ladies of the night? Do you mean, prostitutes or just generally broken women not necessarily of sexual nature and the times when they feel released from their demons?

Just asking so as not to be confused.

Thanks.

OxyMoronicMe said:Soiled doves and ladies of the night? Do you mean, prostitutes or just generally broken women not necessarily of sexual nature and the times when they feel released from their demons?

Just asking so as not to be confused.

Thanks.

Hi Oxy!  No worries, perfectly reasonable question dear.
Yes, prostitutes.  I don't believe broken women in general, like abused homemakers, or rape victims, are ever referred to in such terms.  In fact, in the 19th Century U.S. (particularly in the wild & woolly territories of the west, southwest, mining towns filled with prospectors, and such, etc), "soiled doves" was a common term used by male customers, for prostitutes.

And you're welcome.  Enjoy!

--Jade💟

HEART of gold
I have a good soul
I just want to be with you all around
I treat you right
I been spitting out gold from my HEART
But every girl I WAS into shot at me like a dart
I stand in front of the bullet and protect your HEART
I run when don't nobody want to
I do homework over the spring break no breaks
I stay away from the crowd and FORGET the fakes
I be early when some people want me to be late
I PICK up hard work to make easy MONEY
Ill fight the bullet and beat it with a book
They shot me in the HEART and gold came out
I'm not died because you can't break gold

I did this as a reflection into her soul to reveal how we feels about life ad the judgment she's faced. And to show the pain she is going through with the life she's led.
I call this

Nobody knows

Nobody knows
Nobody knows what I've been through
Nobody realizes the pain
The pain that envelops me
The pain that never lets go

Nobody knows how I feel
Nobody sees the tears
I hide how I feel
I hide all my fears

This utterly fake smile
Which lies upon my face
Is there all the time
I feel like im in exile
I wish I could give them a taste

A taste of what im going through
A taste of all the pain
maybe then they will see
Why I feel so insane

Nobody knows the obstacles I've faced
Nobody seems to give a damn
I won't let them make me feel disgraced
I just don't give a damn

I don't give a Damn what they think
Because they do not know
I've conquered more than the eye can blink
I think its time to go

Time to go away from here
Time for me to no longer fear
Time to forget what they say
Time to escape to another day

Nobody knows the struggles I've had
Now I don't seem to care
Nobody knows that its been so bad
I think ill just let them stare

nets

seduced by the fire of men  
who find amusement in my self destruction  
my hue is bark and bitter chocolate  
and I love the lullabies of crickets and bullfrogs  
   
I'm the dirty secret locked in a drawer  
while she's draped in silk  
her capricious flight  
reminds you of your dreams  
 
when you open your drawer  
i remind you  
the emperor has no clothes  

Harlot's kiss, Serpent's Hiss


This piece was written for a competition based upon the title at another poetry site.  
 
I felt compelled to write somewhat after reading a number of other pieces submitted for the competition detailing the sinful woes of men falling victim to harlots' snares.  
 
Needless to say, my piece was not the winning piece as the tenor of it was not quite in the vein of the aforementioned...  
 
 
 
She was a harlot, true enough  
Made her living in that ancient profession  
She'd learned through time  
And bitter travail  
Her innate worth  
 
Once learned  
She never forgot  
 
Her clientele came to know her  
For her kiss  
No other harlot kissed as she  
Many chose not to kiss at all  
But she,  
Oh, she  
Her kisses were somewhat else  
 
Some men swore that to be kissed by her  
Was more and better than to bury their throbbing phallus into another  
Others insisted her kisses were the stuff of deepest dreams yet unrevealed in darkest night  
Still others said her kisses soothed all cares away allowing burdens to be set aside for a time  
Yet, all agreed on one small thing: one must wait for her to bestow her kisses.  
Gifts they were, not to be stolen.  
 
Most men,  
after meeting her and being within her presence,  
were content  
To wait  
At her behest  
No great hardship this  
 
One man was not content at all  
But feverish in his pursuit  
The harlot gently put him off  
For she had no great need of new customers  
She was established in her place  
Her skills greatly in demand  
 
He refused to be put off, as sometimes men will do  
She knew men, had known others of his ilk  
Each time her response was the same for conflict did not hearten her  
She honestly and openly, yet with innate gentleness and tact  
Directed the man to other harlots who would gladly harbor him  
But he would have her and none other, he told her forcefully  
This detente continued night following upon night  
Until one night  
After all her clients had left  
And she was locking her door  
He came and shoved his way in  
Throwing her upon the bed  
Covering her immediately  
 
Even then, she sought to dissuade him from his path  
He would not listen  
Cuffing her to shut her up  
 
At this, the light within her abode shifted  
Became ominous  
He was too engaged in shredding her robe to notice  
Ogling all he unveiled  
He, too, had heard of the wonders of her kiss  
And forced his lips upon hers to taste that which was not given freely  
At this indignity, a Serpent's Hiss echoed throughout  
Even he was given pause so resonant a sound  
So foreboding  
So presaging  
 
She spoke: Leave now before it is too late to leave.
He shook his head and stated that he would not leave  
He would have her  
She was all he thought of  
He was consumed by lust for her  
He would sate himself this night  
She was a harlot so she must submit  
 
He bent to his task again and she began to struggle anew  
Pushing him  
Begging him to leave  
To save himself for she would not wish this on anyone  
But he would not go  
And  
Deity would not be denied  
 
The Serpent's Hiss sounded again; it was the last sound he heard...  
 
It is said the harlot is favored by Deity so those blessed by her kiss are blessed indeed  
 
Those few cursed attempting force, well they, they, they are never heard from again...



Voiced
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/223727-harlots-kiss-serpents-hiss/

              glory of harlots


 when her gentleman of that particular evening
was asleep on the embattled sheets, in the soils
of their recent lovemaking, she would cleanse herself
quickly in the bathroom. she would dress, gather up
her things, and leave the hotel room, closing the door
gently behind her.

 her drive home was free of pondering. there was no
recalculating her actions, the dominant movements of
his body upon hers, or the sex acts she performed on
him. and there were no regrets.

 at home, she would sit at her vanity table. she would
appraise herself in the fragile light of the mirror. in her
ololiuqui trance, she would dab droplets & slight streams
of Lancôme lotion on her face, and imagine it was the cum
of brutal men she knew, or fantasized about. she would say,
‘you’re a filthy, disgusting whore.’

 she wanted to beat herself with those words, to hurt herself.
but somehow, it filled her with a certain defining glory. she was
kin to Jezebel, Salome’. To Magdalene.
it was a valiant sisterhood.

 she is a woman. she is capable.
she is a hero unto herself.

For many years I got off the bus after work at the corner of State St. and Swan St. only to be propositioned by the prostitutes hanging out there. When the cops came around they would move down to Hawk St. and Eagle St. until they either drove off or got off from a freebie for not arresting them. Well, Schenectady cops have been corrupt for years. If you saw the movie "The place beyond the Pines" , you know what I mean. I wrote this poem several years ago but I think it fits here perfectly...


"Un-stately Swans"

An eagle eyes an angel on the meaty side of town
Where the ladies are awaiting to hawk their wares around
I see her strutting at the bus stop every evening
Work was long and oh how I could find comfort in her breathing
My first step down brings her sweet voice as candy to my ears
She asks me each evening but my response she never hears
Now if I was the only one, I'd have said "yes" long ago
I'd take her in and do the sin but my name's not John, I'm Joe
 
A winter snow with nowhere to go to get out of the cold
The bus slides to a stop, I get off to silence gone unsold
Surely you'll catch your death if you remain out in this storm
I ask if you'd like to sit by the fire, drink something warm
But you say he's watching and expects payment for the time
So I say send him my way to collect mine for his crime
It's his turn to pay for the rape built to enslave his con
Locked shackles bind you to this corner 'til he's dead and gone
 
Allow your mind to open the next chapter yet un-penned
Let my heart teach yours that beatings pulse is meant to mend
Let my touch bring feeling to the passion lost inside your heart
Let me walk you to a door that opens to a fresh start
Let me open your eyes where the future lies beyond
Let me free your hands of the oppression in those bonds
Let me set your feet free to walk through fields that know no fear
Let my voice say the words no mouth would ever let you hear
 
Let my feet carry you across the sunrise of a new day
Let me crack the dawn in lieu of spreading crack to lay
Let me show the light you shine is less red, fading into blues
Let me display the way to any path you choose
Let me assure you that he bears redundant blame
Let my arms comfort your soul and push away the shame
Let me lift the weight off your wings to see you carry on  
Let the blade of the Knight come to free an un-stately swan

(jj johnson)

Withdrawn...new piece up soon that better represents the heart of the comp...

deepthreat1490 said:HEART of gold
I have a good soul
I just want to be with you all around
I treat you right
I been spitting out gold from my HEART
But every girl I WAS into shot at me like a dart
I stand in front of the bullet and protect your HEART
I run when don't nobody want to
I do homework over the spring break no breaks
I stay away from the crowd and FORGET the fakes
I be early when some people want me to be late
I PICK up hard work to make easy MONEY
Ill fight the bullet and beat it with a book
They shot me in the HEART and gold came out
I'm not died because you can't break gold

Thank you, deepthreat1490, for being the first participant to kick things off, I appreciate you sharing your ink in the competition. --Jade

HORSE TAIL

©Oxy2016dup
All Rights Reserved

(This poem is written as entree piece to a poetry competition - HEART OF GOLD)

A buck there,
A buck here.
At Some nights ,
More than yesterdays'.

One, two, three...
Or more men,
And women alike...
In a night,
Is all that...
I ever need,
Just to get-by,
And break even.

Lucky if I,
Found just one...
Who would pay,
A nice sum -
Just like Sam.

Yeah, I remember!
He was once,
A regular cummer,(Pun intended fellows!)
When I was...
Just a young,
And inexperienced hooker.

I remembered him,
Coz he offers...
To make me,
His beloved wife,
Despite of me.

That sweet man,
I don't deserve.
I'm a whore...
But I'm not,
An opportunist bitch...
Who would lie,
Even to myself.

I am a whore,
Soon no more.
Maybe in two...
Years or less,
No one would...
Even pay me,
For a dime.

Damn piggy bank!
I just hope,
It saves enough.
But for now,
I would reminisce...
Memories of Sam.
Opppps, even that,
Paused for now.

Here comes my...
Forth or fifth(?)
Buck for tonight.
I'd lost count,
But who cares?

       A Rose In The Graveyard

She wanders the corners between two stop lights,
Neon lights shed a sickening green tint on her skin
She was different from the others that frolic along the boardwalk,
Much to young to do the mini skirt riding up on tiny hips justice.
Her curves still in a developing stage,
caught between that of a teen and that of a woman.
Yet and still she appealed to many men.
The innocence and purity she held was something to behold,
And they would take advantage, paying her chump change to roll around with the goddess of the streets.
Resentment for life set just below the surface for parents that failed her, forced her to fend for herself the only way she knew how.
Her body once valued, her temple, had more miles on it now than she could bare to count.
Every hour, another cheap motel room, another strange man.
Every night she cried in those few moments she had alone.
Night after night girls that walked the street alongside her disappeared, never heard from again.
Each man, another risk, another fear.
She never knew for sure if a moment would become her last.
No other choice, but to sell what she had left, she walked the corners between two stop lights,
A Rose in the graveyard.