Poem Title: The Isle of Regret ( Prostitution in The Gambia)

Daily,

I always sail off to the forbidden seas

of pleasure before money

allowing the bees of temptation mercilessly suck my honey.

Standing shamelessly on the highway,

I'll plead

For customers, unashamedly

like Africell customer care agents

Uttering cold words of commensuration

To passers-by

to lure them to bed with my looks.

 

 

wearing a very sexy bead on my waist.

Bathed with a whole bottle of perfume

holding my handbag with condoms and tissue paper inside

Complemented by my very short skirt

 

 

I'm my own parent.

My kids have different fathers.

I must get the money anyway!

However, wherever, and whenever

Under any weather, harsh or not,

I must put on my sweater.

 

Hair like a V-12

Do you have hot pants like V-net?

eyes like a seashell

My back is as greasy as some diesel.

They say time is money, which is why men never mistake me for anyone else.

Grab the sauce with the meal.

Breastfeed my breasts

My menu is just so priceless.

 

Cheaply, I sell

Doggie approach to anal and oral sex

To the very oracles of my breast

And sometimes, just offer them my boobs.

 

At the island of regret

I must

Sail like a true sailor

Make different men sew my body like a tailor.

Pound me like a yam.

Drink me like water from a dam, and

make my jaw hurt like a toothache.

 

On the Senegambia's pristine beaches of infatuation

From Bakau to Kololi

Manjai to Kotu Tavern

I must join every caravan.

Join the shameless girls of The Gambia.

Queue in search of money or honey

"Client, what's the matter?"Bem bakh' kaay ma defarr-la

I'll bargain ambitiously.

received by the waves of self-identification

with the pain of regret

due to a lack of purchases on black market days.

 

 

I've had a variety of ticks in my body.

Carrot, yam, cucumber, and even pencil

There is no sorrow.

That is incorrect.

My name, or pain

of the heart that I

I haven't shed any tears or

I haven't cried over it.

I have walked

The hollows, the

Shame-filled roads

Drowned in the shallows,

Drank in all sex positions.

 

I declare that I am of all colors.

While I scream the blues...

On bended knee,

I am appealing to appease

Harnessing the energy of the sun

So, I rise from bed and put myself to bed again.

From the shackles of pain

Into the prism of pleasure with money to take home

Sometimes I'll get only D200 for the entire day.

and sometimes more.

I charge D200 per round.

And D500 for the entire night. 

Disclaimer: All descriptions in this poem are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The image below isn't own by or representing any Gambian woman, dead or alive! 

I got my inspiration to write this poem from the picture below. But I was completely compelled to depicting real life events in The Gambia, based on what I see every day and night when I go out for a drink at Senegambia.

Drop your comments please! 

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