Tinders Cora Pearl

Poetry

Tinder dating.

Balancing on that tight rope between modern meat markets, vintage marriage proposals and a continuum of taffeta excuses for those with no idea about couture.

Coffee date number two,

torn between a Trelise Trelise Cooper bustle or Collette Dinnigan trousers, opting for mid length K-mart culottes and flat shoes – quite sensible really.

Then he makes a move, casually stroking her genius arm while he takes a business call leaning back on his wing.

It’s an affront to Cora’s touch-starved senses; Georgette raised speed bumps, bristle with expectations.

Its awkward for a moment –

deciding weather to pirouette or sashay onto the dancefloor with some spurious home truths.

Ta da!

‘I used to be a sex worker’,

she crowed, sipping on a nonchalant eyelash latte on the verge of treason

‘and if I decide to go back, you can’t stop me’.

Silence.

Ms Pearl takes another sip, the onslaught of ignorance threatening to tighten her whale bone corset breath, now held in contempt.

A standing ovation or white knuckled finale taking the bias edge out of contention, taking it all in.

See, she can’t see the point of another round of ruffles and rouge.

/

Spontaneous attraction hides in the shadows

of a cloak and dagger past life, frightened

by a mere unorthodox interlude.

 

 

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Cairns ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

Whore

Poetry

 

Clock app, I chime well.

The sheets are slithery crevices

Satin-lined, with serpent tongue poised to strike,

It is a meeting of the soul,

 

A shaft of light

Through cathedrals of stained glass.

Where you are safe,

There are no family heirlooms,

 

No dinner on the table, no lies.

Suave virile hips, the smirk of men

Glaze at her smoke

And I, in my honeyed plume,

 

Milk a gallon of amphibian seed.

To release

The roar of angst I swallow toads ~

Meat and three vege, a staple,

 

The ‘Elixir of Life’.

My mouth gags,

The mouth of Mary

When my accelerator touches the pan.

 

The giggle of my

Plastic features, my way of arching

John’s to rigors of trapeze

Lays on the charm, a gasp.

 

And it goes on and on, and on.

I shall remain a nymph. Old muscles

Strain like a bough and I

Blush like Betty Boop

 

Satisfied,

All the sighs of winter, fall

Offering up last seasons rosella

Tea to read.

 

 

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Jodine. ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

Visable Woman

Poetry

Escorts Jezabel

 

I’m a whore.
A hooker for all
Intents & purposes

I fuck

Men, women or both
If they show me
Respect & pay my fee

How they treat
Me is how I screen;
They peep through key
Holes in my web,
Mobile phone or face
Book

Leave me clues
I peruse at my leisure.

On my unpaid time,
Weeding
Always pulling
Out roots & bare
Back, barking mad
Messages

Cutting into my family!

My family time
Intrigues you & yours –

Watching how we
Balance on that edge,
While I swing my leg
Over, hold on
Tight & tiptoe
Around the giant
Dildo in the room

But we do

Those Bill’s
Just don’t stop coming!

*

I work hard for the money
I work hard for family
I work hard
Pulling my weight where it counts
To make ends meet;
Reconciling differences
Underneath

I bleed red & my shit still
Stinks but that doesn’t make me
Invisible, unless you’re
Anti

Anti this, anti that
Why should it matter
What I do to support my
Self or my family?

I should ram my fist right up
Your arse, to my elbows
(I’d like to – bend you over) &
Piss all over your pride & prejudice!

Your mind is already made up.
Stuck up, to the eyeballs
In condescending lies pandering
To (un) popular beliefs;
Nothing like countering ‘prostitution
Narratives’ in the belly
Of the beast

I am a very tall poppy.
I am not so uneloquently on display
I am not a victim
I am not coerced
I am not a survivor
I am not damaged
I am not suffering any
More than anyone else

I don’t buy into
Negative, stereotypically ignorant
Profit driven victimisation
Either!

I choose to be the
Architect of my own life
Doing my bit,
Arousing your awareness
So that those who are
Tarred with the same brush
Can find support
Not rescue

It’s called autonomy.
Something I have more of than
Some, but you are not one

Tomorrow I’m going to wake up
Turn on my phone
Answer messages
Boil the jug & light up a dart,
Considering all my options
Before heading back in to sex work

It makes me stark raving
Mad, to think you could
Possibly be offended!

*

For what it’s worth,
I feel sorry for you

© Copyright 2016, Jezabel Jodine. ‘escortjezabel.com. All Rights Reserved

 

Written in protest of the ‘World’s Oldest Oppression’ Conference in Melbourne, Victoria 2016

The Online Protest

Pieces of Meat

Sound of Silencing Sex Workers

Online Pocket Guide to Dealing with Antis

Unencumbered

Poetry


My love
is in a constant state of flux:

she is a free spirit
as naked as she is coy

shy beyond reason
her senses betray her

ever-widening polygamous circle
of  ‘friends with benefits’

today, I languish in the arms of those
who, in the privacy of their shared

experience/existence
profess to asexual tendencies

off & on

a pair of comfortable shoes
is the next best thing

to the proverbial
wet patch

she cloaks herself
in makeshift aroma & powdered illusions

power & control
wanting & needing

pushing & pulling
to feel simply unencumbered

monogamy is a death trap
says the muse

my love is everywhere
I want it to be

 

© Copyright 2010, escortjodine.com. All Rights Reserved

 

Puppy Love

Poetry


Lovers of pain and comfort, unconditional
with puppy dog eyes wide shut
head on my stomach fur coat attired
foetal and like old things, worn

Moments and memories dispensed
a hairs breath between prickles
and whiskers tease
rubbing the shredded skin of dissociation

Thoughts escape, awakened
stirred and panting
playful ball sports and eyebrows raise
sniffing familiarity

Belly rubs and legs splayed
assuming the mould from in behind,
the scene
anticipation hungry for food

Dependence in exchange for love
money in exchange for lust
No flea’s here, no blood,
no life-sucking thoughts here

Gods comfort wrap, fur-lined
with licky tongue
slobbering kisses of conversation
done and dusted.

© Copyright, 2011, escortjodine.com. All Rights Reserved

I Met A Girl

Poetry

I met a girl
Red lights blazing
flashing backstreet bars
in an alleyway
shadows silent behind
lamppost’s, thin stripped
light bouncing off
her shoulders, Medusa
scantily clad
dancing through her
fractured Halo,
stockings hiked up
high, lest the cold
penetrate, short skirt
on latticed silhouette(s)
tiptoes pointing
slipping in behind
taxis.  Threadbare
pockets strain
fingertips smooth into
green folds;
a handful of jewels
lining her silk purse.

© Copyright, 2011, escortjodine.com.  All Rights Reserved

Lady of the Night

Poetry

Your wish is my command:
I will push back and pull forward
confronting your senses while tearing apart my own

I perform admirably.
I hold my head up in the face.
There is only one thing on my mind

No monthly specials here!
No flat ‘on my back’ rate either.
I’m a bargain in the first place, comparatively.
They should be so lucky

No chance of getting bored.
I re-invent events, creatively
juicy and spicy hot
with a side of lies

The blood never drains nor loses its metallic colour
and the well will never run dry
with KY, spread
from arsehole to breakfast like _______
Class?

I lie
on my back, my side, my stomach
and my face is covered.
69 divine and women line up?
I am not exclusive, smile (wink).
Sad and lonely is universally applied, like my eye-liner
smudged and blurred,
obscured from most

I provide a service.
The hostess with the most(est),
and fine wine will have you spellbound!

They line up,
in a downtown apartment with a sea view
on Fur-Lined Avenue – not!

My un-inhibited wide-on, exhibited
and the 26th floor, awaits you
but I am not for free.
Never for free.

I am a Lady of the Night,
who shines in the face of adversity
with trust issues and insecurities like the rest of us.
I am not blinded by earthly needs by fools.
I wake up.
I put on my make-up.
I dance to my own tune,
and pay the bills

© Copyright, 2011, escortjodine.com.  All Rights Reserved

Two-tailed Tawse

Health, Poetry

 

I will grip
my two-tailed tawse
within an inch of my gloved appendage
& your exposed up-turned posterior

I will

control
/
suspend
\
switch
/
strap
\
bitch
/
slap
\

you into submission
& you will obey!

I will thrash you
within your wildest dreams,
whetting only my desire for satisfaction

you will not look me in the eyes
you will not soil in my presence
you will not touch any part of me

you will cry like a baby
& beg for my forgiveness

when you fail

© Copyright, escortjodine.com.  All Rights Reserved

I Can’t Wait

Health, Poetry

 

 

I can’t wait
to get you
where I want
you to be:
on your back
with your hands
tied & your
legs spread
eagle,
blindfolded
so I can look
at you with
reckless
abandon
& you can’t
do a damn thing
about it

I will take
what is mine
& have my way
& fuck you
till I am
spent
& you are
left wondering
what day
of the week it is
& whether or not
the wet patch
is on your side
of the bed
or mine

© Copyright 2011, escortjodine.com.  All Rights Reserved

Ode to Cigarette Withdrawal

Poetry

I am an avid writer!

Watch this space for interesting articles and news.

Here is one of my poems for you to ponder.  If you can relate to trying to quit cigarettes… I wrote this one just for you!

Jx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ode to Cigarette Withdrawal

the sweet desire

for oral pleasure
still lingers
on my
lips

/

one last
taste
lick
fix

she slips
into something
warm & inviting

& I watch him
slowly undress
before raising his shaft

can I have one?
her voice
pleading desperado

he assumes the position
& I am sucked right in

he gestures
she folds, rolls
& sets her fire to smoulder

her submission
concluded
his mission
accomplished

 

© Copyright, escortjodine.com.  All Rights Reserved