Replying to a comment on:

The Red Light Man (Free verse) by scitz

Big hand on seven, Little hands frozen, Black puddles flow, A vagrant laughs then collapses, Here I stand waiting for her, By her allocated lamp post, Watched by a white man talking like a black man, Flicking old presidents. My hair stands up like a marine, Ashamed of the color temptations become, The traffic lights turn green, Harlots cling on to the stationary buicks, Here in the last saloon of lowlives, I see my face blurred in shimmering puddles, My wife at home cooking me Steak, As I just wait for for my pound of flesh, I feel no remorse, I am a still membrane. Desire is my enemy of conscience.

spank me baby yeah 27-Feb-03/3:01 AM
NAUGHTY NAUGHTY MAN ! BUT I LIKED MANY LINES IN THIS, VERY GOOD 9




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001