Oliver's Poetry
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7/7

Advance!

April Flurry

Being Santa

Birthday

Brush Strokes

Byronic

City of Dreams

Cook and Drive

Do A Little, Leave A Lot

Ed Cases

Egg

Girl With One Track Mind (Sexhunters)

Glory Sealed

Haiku Firework

Hangover

Holiday Camp

I Fell in Love on the Northern Line

I Fought The Law and I Won

Jack Dove (Canto 1)

January Blue

Job Sonnet

Jury Service

Letter to February

Lewes (Till I Die)

Loving You

Madhouse

Meat Elegy

My Best (Wasn't Good Enough)

Odd Ends

Our Neighbours

Ownsome Valentine

Persian Sailing

Probably Not

Road Kill

Salsa

Saturday Night at the J H Tavern

Slam Door

Smoke In The Night

Snowscape

The Fight

The Last Word

The Liger

Whilst on Lose Hill

Women


Image of a lady of the night
The Whore by Scrubberjack (Jackie Smallridge)

I'll put my foot right through your door,
I'll slap your face, you smackhead whore,
The next time your pimp's in my face
For parking my car outside your place.

I'm sick of johnnies under the tree,
Always there for people to see;
Your curtains open all night long
So the kids in the street can see your thong.

You bring men back day in day out,
Then all you do is bawl and shout;
On your mobile, giving your pimp shit
Until he comes round with your hit.

He disses you in the street
And you run away in your bare feet,
All the neighbours like to get a good view -
Especially when he beats you black and blue!

Then someone will come to your aid
But it's all a put-on, you're not afraid.
You'll give as good as you get,
We've all seen it through our nets.

We felt sorry for you when you first moved in,
Never smiling, always looking grim,
But now we don't feel the same:
You're just a smackhead whore on the game.

Posted: October 2007. Copyright: Jackie Smallridge (Scrubberjack).
Site copyright: Oliver's Poetry 2007