PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Neon in  nylon, the queen of the bomb-site

Hunting those punting for illicit delight

In the parked car, by the skip, or in the doorway

In the sightless, toothless warrens, behind the railway



This vision of fishnet and peroxide promise,

Made-up like a car-crash, screen-rashed, corpse,

Despised, beaten, raped, robbed and compromised,

Is on nodding terms with half the men of the town

And all of the policemen



Thick make-up, sore feet, heavily scarred forearm

And the cloying, choking, ever present smells

Of sweat and defeat



The universal uniform of the junkie whore



She did well in school



She would have gone far



Had a job in the bank

She was saving for a car



But she met a young angel

All leather, oil and ink

He seemed a nice lad, so they went for a drink

Then home to his, she fancied a shag,

But all he could think of

Was sharing the bag



I escaped from the pit

Climbed the jelly stair, through the ice age,

No nice age!

Skin clawing, heart hammering.

Soul chewed and yammering

Under the never piercing stare,

Of the ever needful needles.



But I couldn't carry her!