This Poem was Submitted By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2009-02-16 21:26:08 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Says Who?

  Whores die laying in view of dawn approaching While changing from sweating lust through hot hands  That turn to ice in early morn as they cold heartedly Step out to the hum of non peers Brewing cups of moral excursions made to live  In daylight hours. Whores breed empty children with eyes that pierce Backwards like bottomless pits but still look out for anything that other babes dancing to the tunes  Of nursery rhymes have Dressed in fashion of love and permanently pressed cotton figments of security Upscale won't leave seeds of disgust behind them Yet they still can be marred with impairments of  False illusions with rules made up along the way Whores won't cross over the line to dignity Dignity won't be instilled upon their young The fight to live within boundaries of being labled Bastards and worthless flesh of common gutter trash Will never be erased until a light of certainty is  Crowned over their lonely heads  Or a mentor intervenes politely  To save their souls in life Whores live; in the darkness Other mothers live open; voicing opinions and planning futures Whether they're welcomed plans or not Which is the one that should decide after bringing life into the world What is or is not the right way to raise a child? In my eyes; God Should lead each child without fear Stand by and lean to those who need him the most Let the ears of the lost hear Let the thoughts of broken be healed Let the voices of the judges be stilled Let all live with a purpose Free unlimited peaceful lives All are imprisoned no matter what house they come from Because human life in forms of bodies and souls have Roots that run deeply and intertwine with energy from earth to afterlife

Copyright © February 2009 DeniMari Z.

Additional Notes:
Strictly prose, punctuation intentionally left undone - all thoughts; comments and suggestions appreciated.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2009-03-01 17:43:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
DeniMari, Yowzer! I think whores are pushed into being.....needing to eat. Trying to exist. Untrained, unloved, rejects of life not always their choice. And their pitiful, class less lives leave them the victims. So sad. Yes, we need to mentor and help. There is so much work to do and nobody is moving. eyes piercing backwards is unique. you could minimize some thoughts/condense/condense. put more heart and caring into ending. good hard gut wrenching work. dellena


This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2009-02-22 02:39:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Hi Deni, You mentioned that this is strictly prose...though a strong poetic sense and feel lifts from it. Good job. Now..to the piece. This is one of the more POWERFUL pieces I have read here recently and by far your BEST in my opinion. Every line is packaged with power and punch and the theme never loses its impact. I'm impressed by this prose oriented piece that has a strong poetic feel to it. GREAT JOB... Nice to see you posting again. Duane.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rene L Bennett On Date: 2009-02-19 07:56:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Deni, As reading your poem, I visioned back in the 40's or 50's (something you see in a old movie) a small dirty house where the whore lives with her children watching and hating ever move of their mother as man after man visits. Then the last two stanzas changes, snapping me back in time. Yes, each person is an individual and a lot of children (especially when raised in an environment one hates) don't follow the life of their parents. And change is such a rush of relief. I really like your words and the message you give. Always, Rene'
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2009-02-17 09:41:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 7.75000
Well, of course the richness of your thoughts here, DeniMari, could not well be addressed confined to imagery and to the less than direct message of good poetry. But then your passion does convey illusion and, just as one finds it difficult to discern condemnation for prostitution, or acceptance; one finds an equally compelling challenge to define what's poetry and what is not. Something must happen to the young girl early on to mark the choice she later comes to make regarding a "working girl" career. I would suppose some kind of abandon (demonstrated entering a car with a perfect stranger in the middle of the night,) to be involved, something going beyond the usual inbred desire to please social conventions. And to fall from the supposed graces of more pious women...all too ready to condemn her as a potential oasis of sorts for their own men. Oh, there are all kinds of commonly chosen labels and formulations for dealing with these ladies of the night, just as there are drugs. And all are empty, actually devoid of value and meaning. Too large a segment of mankind seems to need them, obviously even the most pious of men from time to time. Recently I reviewed a movie, Monster, where a prostitute turns the table on men, more than slightly over- compensating. I was moved by her story (taken from an actual account)and amazed that the actress (who won an Oscar for her performance) could decline so much from being so beautiful to being "street". It is doubtful anyone in their sane mind would bring a child into such a setting. Lenny Bruce's mother was one, yet she still gave the world one of the most brilliant and creative comedians on record. How this must complicate their life is beyond my imagining. Yet many of these ladies came to be the mail-order brides for those settling the West and their compassion among themselves is legendary. Were any man to disregard them more than the men and systems that feed on them, I feel them to be worse in every respect. So did, we are told, Christ. If this is not poetry, it should be AND good to have you back. JCH
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