Scarlet Prostitute Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Scarlet prostitute

On stage, and for sale,
I am sold as slave,
And rare are customers!

Advise me my friends:
"Write a good resume! "

My mouth is like kettle,
Is boiling with bubbles:
"Shut up and go to hell! "

Wish I could torture them,
But I am tied in den!

Wonder what to call them,
Some good or bad mentors?

In marrow I hate them!

Resume; summary,
A CV about me?
Pretend by lying?

Standing on corner,
Saw women in Dubai,
Exposing: "You select! "

On arrival, payer
Looks at me,
Feel dread,
That shameless
Has one aim,
In me searches target!

I hate the paymaster!

No loving?
Without care?
Of them see no trace!
Hear buyer's mumble:
"Need answer to questions! "

I think of wilt and lilt,
It is all ill-conceived,
Are ruined, placid!

Soon, leave the poetry,
Why not ignore conceit?

No trace of feelings,
In his eyes I can read:
"Are you man in CV? "

The potent, kinetic,
In me, is energy:
"Hey, hey, hey! "
Want to say…

Time is short,
Fast, it dies,
We are done!

No hand was in sleeve,
The hearts were absentees,
Wolf spoke, I was sheep,
No respect, no "Please."

Sit again, lean on chair,
Open sites, read again,
And again, and again!

Prefer the poems,
Painting on a canvas,
Images in frames,
And the light and the lens.

See the moon in thinnest,
Is too sharp and half bent,
Can it work like dagger?

Want to walk in moonlight,
To unknown, distance, far,
Till I reach polar ice,
There, freeze and get lost!