Home Page An Impossible Task Young Girls Living in Fear The Talent Agent Storm's End
The Skeleton Gang Bang Going Home 3 6-6-6 We Agree Cigarettes
Slave Girls Betrayal United Nations The Loss of Innocence Waking with Robert Frost Poet's Commentary
Peace Russian Brides Pedophiles Freedom Seeding Pearls Banned in Iran
September 11, 2001 Suicide Rape for Hire Saddam Hussein's Executi What Use is Poetry? Good Women
Witness Guestbook PATHOS - Poets Against T 7-7-7 Assassination Just Because We're Men
Freedom Fighters Broken Angels Visitors
Attempt the Impossible Task!

WE are protected from the world,
Yes, YOU too!  You there with your toys!
Your games, cell phones and computers,
You, who've never seen the stark, gnarled
Fingers a hard life leaves with no joy,
No Hope, no love and no future!

     *     *     *  >^.\/.^<


They’re one of your few pleasures,
But they’re bad for you, you know...
You laugh at the statistics,
There’re more likely ways to go.
You have nothing to live for...
You lost your life long ago
Because it’s no longer yours,
Sold the first time you went on show
On the slavers’ auction block,
Betrayed by your one true friend,
You stood shivering in your smock
As he brought you to a bad end
There’re worse things than cigarettes,
As you’ve come to know too well.
Life was going well, you thought,
But now you’re living in Hell,
Not the life that you had planned,
Doing ev’rything you can,
A slave for every demand...
Submissive to any man
You can no longer deny
A man his perverse pleasure
As your pimp takes his money
And then he takes your measure...
Once you tried to refuse
Only to meet with laughter
As you were beaten and abused,
Hung by ropes from the rafters
You were raped again and again,
Men stood in line for “fresh meat,”
Some you knew as the policemen
Who “protect” you on the street
So now you can’t go home
(You’ve seen others die for less...)
You couldn’t hide your shame
No matter how you dressed...
It just doesn’t matter that
Others share your sad laughter
Puffing on their cigarettes,
Stealing moments from their masters...
The “masters” who snatch children
Or buy them from their parents
And sometimes take young women,
Selling away their innocence
You smoke your cigarette now,
Slow, to make the moment last
Cherishing memories of
Innocence from days long past...
Now nothing belongs to you...
Memories are all you have,
No one can take them from you...
You’ll carry them to your grave.

by Karl Stuart Kline,
excerpted from his book, POISON PEARLS

This was a file photo, so I can neither take nor give credit for it.  It's not even necessarily a woman, but that's also true for the people that I try to be a voice for.  Young girls and young boys are both taken to serve the pleasure of their masters.

It's the scar that speaks volumes to me - it might even be an open wound - but it follows perfectly the track of many tears and shows me a wounded soul...

Karl Stuart Kline