"...They bend or they're broken, Serving the whims of men. Giving up all their hopes, They've come to childhood's end."
(An excerpt from POISON PEARLS...)
Walking a public street, Taking home some "fresh meat," Your slave just turned sixteen And you wanted a treat.
Something younger... thirteen? She's broken, but she's free Of sexual contagion. You don't mind being seen
It's accepted in this region Where slavers are legion And they will buy them back if in good condition.
But you won't give them back... They are good in the sack And they've already learned It's no good to talk back.
They've watched women get burned, Thrown in the street and spurned For disobedience And the lesson is stern.
So they'll pledge allegiance, Afraid to take a chance Of incurring your wrath As they assume the stance
They're lovely to look at, Fresh from taking their bath, But they are still children Who don't deserve your wrath.
They pretend they're women, But they're only children, Babies making babies, Playthings for wicked men.
Sexy enough to tease Men who they're bound to please (Literally - with ropes!) And will ignore their pleas.
These men will dash their hopes As they happily grope Children playing women. It does no good to mope.
They bend or they're broken, Serving the whims of men. Giving up all their hopes, They've come to childhood's end.
This poem is titled BOSNIA in Poison Pearls and it was inspired by a public radio broadcast about slavery as it existed in Bosnia at the time. In the few years that have intervened since then, I certainly hope that conditions have improved there.
However, this poem is more about people than places, so I have retitled it and I feel that even though these conditions might have improved there, they are doubtless ongoing in other countries and this poem will ring true for them as well.
Copyright 2005 Karl Stuart Kline. All rights reserved.