Posts Tagged ‘sex work’


The Pastor & The Prostitute

January 10, 2011

On the floor of the basement

The pastor kneels

Tears streaming off his cheeks to splash in the puddle of piss

Grown about him

Drool runs from his mouth

From the gap between his teeth

Wedged open by the barrel of the pistol

Held in the prostitute’s hand

She clicks her heels three times

*klik* *klik* *klik*



A Global Industry

January 30, 2009

In Brickfields

Past the saddest petstores in the world

Where puppies dance and frolic

Pressed against glass walls

Seeking only love

Getting older

Moved from the window

To cages, then disappearing

To be replaced endlessly.


In Chow Kit

Through cheap meat markets

Ripe with stench

Where fish thrash in a glaze of water

Gasping, parched

Watching as the cleaver

Claims the head

Guts the stomach

Scrapes the carcass aside.


Five ringgit for a shirt

That looks like

A tequila sunrise

Poured into a glass

Covered in seaweed.


Then they spot me

“Hey, friend


I smile and try

To flee

I know what’s coming


He follows me


“You want yanga?

Yanga? Dadah?”


I smile, walk


He fades away.

Ten feet and

Two seconds later


“Hey. Hey.

You want girl?

Massage? Blowjob?

All young girls

Chinese. Malay.

Indonesian. Indian.

You look first.

Then decide.”


And in that instant

That’s exactly what I want

The desire is planted into

My mind

But something drives

Me away


No, no, no thankyou

Smiling and walking

The matsalleh and

His morality


Who am I kidding?

I’d fuck anything

That offered itself

As long as it was

Free and honest.


Paying for it is a whole new game.

A different world.


The world’s oldest profession

Is exploitation.


In Amsterdam

They live in little glass boxes

A tourist site

And people form

Orderly queues

Along the canals

“Fuck and suck,

50 Euro.”


Then you slide with the crowd

Down into an impossibly narrow alley

To find the otherside

The swollen, bloated, old whores

Shaking their meat

“I’ll suck your titties,

Lemme lick your pussy”

The Irish guys went crazy

For it.


In Barcelona

There’s a street for the transvestites

Who grab your balls

And steal your phone

At the same time

A free service


“Ey, ey, let’s go,


Next to that

The Russian street

Where I once watched a man

In a wheelchair

Driving from one girl to the next

Back and forth

Waving his money

Being angrily denied

A horny Stephen Hawking

Everyone has their limits

“30 Euro for me,

10 for the room.”


Down from there

The Barrio Chino

Right out of the tourist zone

Where the girls carry

Hidden knives

And coffee shops swarm

With Arabs

“20 Euro for me,

10 for the room.”


In Thailand

I wandered into a bar

An innocent

And was beset by a legion

Of moon-faced girls

Who all wanted


To play games

And something unspoken

“1500 baht

For the night.”


All these girls

Had the same look in their eye

A hardness

Like nothing

Or nobody

Could touch them

In the same way