Last month I did a post about Clare Gee and her recently published book Hooked: Confessions of a London Call Girl. She will be giving an interview on television tomorrow on This Morning on ITV. The show starts at 10.30 am. Last month there was an interview with her in Cosmopolitan magazine. She has also made a second appearance on JoAnne Good's BBC Radio London show.
Having read an interview in the press I don't agree with everything she says. She says she has no time for writers like Brooke Magnanti, who she says glamourize prostitution. I'm not a great fan of Brooke Magnanti (the blogger Belle de Jour and author of Intimate Adventures Of A London Call Girl) but I think she shows one person's experience of prostitution.
I'm not a great fan of escorts but probably the majority of escorts manage to keep away from drugs or addiction. Some of them fritter away their money on holidays, clothes, champagne etc but many of them use the money to pay rent or a mortgage and bills. Some of them will save money and maybe use it to do what they really want to do with their lives.
I wanted in this blog to show what I have seen in my involvement with prostitution. There is nothing fictionalized about my blog, unlike both Clare's book and Brooke's books. Some of what they have written did not happen. I wanted to show the opposite side of the sort of thing that Brooke has written about, the dark side of prostitution, but I am not dismissing her views. If women keep away from drugs they aren't going to end up like Clare did, or worse.
Clare doesn't have a balanced point of view. What she says is probably what most people want to hear. They want to believe that prostitution is always damaging to women. They want to believe that drug addiction is always the result of psychological disturbance deriving from childhood trauma and not self indulgence and emotional immaturity. The truth is always more complex than what people want to hear.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
what I did in Soho last Wednesday
I got off the tube at Leicester Square and walked through Chinatown to Soho. When I got to the walk up in Frith Street that I was looking for the door was open. Even though it was just before midday. Usually I have something to eat in Soho before I see a girl but I thought I'm here now so I might as well go up.
I could see the name of the girl I was looking for. Alina, who I have heard good things about but not seen before. I knocked on the door and after a few seconds a voice came down the stairs saying she's not there yet. It was Alina's maid who was in the other flat. I asked when I should come back and she said half an hour.
That's OK I thought, I can go and have something to eat and a coffee. I walked along Frith Street past Bar Italia. I always have a look at the people sitting outside to see if there is anyone I recognize. JoAnne Good and her dog Matilda go there and apparently a well-known American actor (whose name I forget) likes to go there. I saw the musician Suggs enjoying a cup of coffee.
I went to a nearby Pret A Manger further up Frith Street and had a latte and something to eat. I read a newspaper and felt more relaxed. Walking back I saw Suggs again just getting up. I passed him on the pavement.
Back at the walk up the maid was in the doorway on her mobile. She was trying to phone Alina to see where she was. Then Alina came up the stairs, saying she was sorry she was late. We went into the bedroom and she took the money from me, £20, and went out. I took off my clothes and lay on the bed. I don't think I had been in this room before. It was small and had mirrors on the ceiling and by the bed.
Alina took her time coming back into the room, but I was happy, looking at myself in the mirrors. She came back in, wearing what looked like her bra and panties, and busied herself with paper towels and stuff. I noticed her big breasts as well as her pretty face. Then she went out again.
This reminded me of something similar that had happened in Green's Court a couple of years ago. I was on the stairway about midday and a beautiful Italian-looking woman came up the stairs and went into the flat, talking to the maid about transport delays. I wish that I had seen her. I would have like to have helped her take her clothes off, open up her legs and given her oral sex. I don't usually give oral sex, I think about what the previous punters have done to her that day. I know the prostitutes wash their genitals, but even so.
Alina came back into the room again. I asked her if I could give her oral sex but she said no. Alina is young and pretty, with a nice figure and big breasts. I can see why people like her. Maybe I'm getting used to being with beautiful women. Like most of the young ones I couldn't really communicate with her.
She put a condom on and gave me an energetic suck. I got erect and I looked in the mirrors at her head bobbing up and down. But soon my ten minutes were up.
I had already decided that I wanted to see two or three women that day. I don't usually do this. Maybe it would have been better if I had spent £60 for half an hour with one woman than £20 for ten minutes with 3 different women. But when you have the choice of so many beautiful women, sometimes you feel like a fox in a chicken coop or a nursery.
I wanted to see a real woman so I went to see Mimi in Green's Court. Mimi is Polish. She is tall and not too slender, how I like them. She has a pretty face and shoulder length curly blonde hair. I got Mimi to lie on the bed with her legs apart. I knelt between her legs and played with my willy while looking at her pussy. It didn't take long before I was erect and she put a condom on.
I don't always fuck the women I see in Soho, but there is something about Mimi. She's very sultry. Because she is tall my head was next to hers and her lovely hair. Without me asking her to, she started encouraging me, saying things like "Fuck my pussy, darling. Come on, fuck it". It was really lovely, but I can't come like that. When I got tired and started to lose my erection I stopped.
Sometimes it's difficult to believe that a man can have sex with a woman who looks like a movie star for only £20.
A few hours later I decided to go and see Sandy. Sandy was in a good mood, friendly and chatty. The last time I saw Sandy I thought she was really beautiful. I compared her to Eva Longoria. I was surprised this time that she did not seem quite so beautiful. I think there are some women who are sometimes really beautiful and other times not quite so beautiful. She was still lovely though.
She asked me what I would like and I said I would like a hand job. She said she would only charge me £20 for that. Usually £25 is the minimum for the women at 4 Old Compton Street. I asked her what she had been doing that day. She told me she had pissed on a man, had beaten another one. I can't remember all the details but she said something like "And then I put on a uniform and I was a schoolgirl". She likes all that kinky stuff. I was pleased that I'm not the only pervert that sees her.
I had forgotten that Sandy allows fingering. She let me put a finger in her pussy. She said she does Wednesdays and Fridays but that's going to change. She said something about a beauticians course she was doing or wanted to do and she wants to work around that. She seems to have her life sorted out. I shall see Sandy again.
I could see the name of the girl I was looking for. Alina, who I have heard good things about but not seen before. I knocked on the door and after a few seconds a voice came down the stairs saying she's not there yet. It was Alina's maid who was in the other flat. I asked when I should come back and she said half an hour.
That's OK I thought, I can go and have something to eat and a coffee. I walked along Frith Street past Bar Italia. I always have a look at the people sitting outside to see if there is anyone I recognize. JoAnne Good and her dog Matilda go there and apparently a well-known American actor (whose name I forget) likes to go there. I saw the musician Suggs enjoying a cup of coffee.
I went to a nearby Pret A Manger further up Frith Street and had a latte and something to eat. I read a newspaper and felt more relaxed. Walking back I saw Suggs again just getting up. I passed him on the pavement.
Back at the walk up the maid was in the doorway on her mobile. She was trying to phone Alina to see where she was. Then Alina came up the stairs, saying she was sorry she was late. We went into the bedroom and she took the money from me, £20, and went out. I took off my clothes and lay on the bed. I don't think I had been in this room before. It was small and had mirrors on the ceiling and by the bed.
Alina took her time coming back into the room, but I was happy, looking at myself in the mirrors. She came back in, wearing what looked like her bra and panties, and busied herself with paper towels and stuff. I noticed her big breasts as well as her pretty face. Then she went out again.
This reminded me of something similar that had happened in Green's Court a couple of years ago. I was on the stairway about midday and a beautiful Italian-looking woman came up the stairs and went into the flat, talking to the maid about transport delays. I wish that I had seen her. I would have like to have helped her take her clothes off, open up her legs and given her oral sex. I don't usually give oral sex, I think about what the previous punters have done to her that day. I know the prostitutes wash their genitals, but even so.
Alina came back into the room again. I asked her if I could give her oral sex but she said no. Alina is young and pretty, with a nice figure and big breasts. I can see why people like her. Maybe I'm getting used to being with beautiful women. Like most of the young ones I couldn't really communicate with her.
She put a condom on and gave me an energetic suck. I got erect and I looked in the mirrors at her head bobbing up and down. But soon my ten minutes were up.
I had already decided that I wanted to see two or three women that day. I don't usually do this. Maybe it would have been better if I had spent £60 for half an hour with one woman than £20 for ten minutes with 3 different women. But when you have the choice of so many beautiful women, sometimes you feel like a fox in a chicken coop or a nursery.
I wanted to see a real woman so I went to see Mimi in Green's Court. Mimi is Polish. She is tall and not too slender, how I like them. She has a pretty face and shoulder length curly blonde hair. I got Mimi to lie on the bed with her legs apart. I knelt between her legs and played with my willy while looking at her pussy. It didn't take long before I was erect and she put a condom on.
I don't always fuck the women I see in Soho, but there is something about Mimi. She's very sultry. Because she is tall my head was next to hers and her lovely hair. Without me asking her to, she started encouraging me, saying things like "Fuck my pussy, darling. Come on, fuck it". It was really lovely, but I can't come like that. When I got tired and started to lose my erection I stopped.
Sometimes it's difficult to believe that a man can have sex with a woman who looks like a movie star for only £20.
A few hours later I decided to go and see Sandy. Sandy was in a good mood, friendly and chatty. The last time I saw Sandy I thought she was really beautiful. I compared her to Eva Longoria. I was surprised this time that she did not seem quite so beautiful. I think there are some women who are sometimes really beautiful and other times not quite so beautiful. She was still lovely though.
She asked me what I would like and I said I would like a hand job. She said she would only charge me £20 for that. Usually £25 is the minimum for the women at 4 Old Compton Street. I asked her what she had been doing that day. She told me she had pissed on a man, had beaten another one. I can't remember all the details but she said something like "And then I put on a uniform and I was a schoolgirl". She likes all that kinky stuff. I was pleased that I'm not the only pervert that sees her.
I had forgotten that Sandy allows fingering. She let me put a finger in her pussy. She said she does Wednesdays and Fridays but that's going to change. She said something about a beauticians course she was doing or wanted to do and she wants to work around that. She seems to have her life sorted out. I shall see Sandy again.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
angels
In March last year I wrote a blog post 'encounters with women with problems'. I wrote about a young woman who I saw in the street near where I live. She looked as if she was about to collapse and I went over to see if she was OK. I have seen her three times in the street since then but I haven't had the opportunity to speak to her.
I have also recently seen the other woman I talked about in the post. The one in Soho. She looked and sounded different from the other times I have seen her. I bought her something to eat. She recognized me but didn't seem pleased to see me and didn't want to talk much. She seemed more 'normal' than before, maybe they've changed her medication or something.
I talked to another young woman I saw in the street. The first time I saw Tracy was in the centre of Croydon. She was stopping people and asking them for money. I asked her why and she said that she needed money for somewhere to sleep that night. I mentioned that she didn't look very happy. I gave her a couple of quid and told her that the next time she saw me she could ask me again.
Weeks later I saw her outside the supermarket near where I live asking people for money. I didn't speak to her then. She came up to me in the street one day and I had a conversation with her. She said she was staying in a bed and breakfast hotel in that street. I asked her if she knew Trina and she said "Yes, I know Trina". Trina is a local drug addict that I have talked about in a previous post.
Tracy was quite scruffy-looking but she didn't look like and addict. She wasn't skinny. She is reasonably attractive. I haven't seen Tracy for a few weeks so I guess she must have moved on. If I had seen her again I would have asked her if she wanted anthing to eat and taken her to a local cafe.
You might think that I would have wanted to take Tracy back to my flat and have sex with her. I would only have done that if I thought it wouldn't have harmed her. I would have encouraged her not to go down the same route as Trina. I would have tried to help her see that she has an alternative to that.
If I thought that having sex with her would have made her think less of herself then I would not have done it. However, to a lot of these women having sex is no big deal. If a woman is on benefits and has nothing to do all day, then spending an hour having sex one afternoon with a nice man and getting £20 or £30 for it and a cup of tea after is something quite attractive. Or I could have photographed her.
Trina sent me a text message recently. It said "Do you remember me?". I didn't reply to her because I don't want to see her again. I don't even know if it was her, it could have been one of her male addict associates hoping to rob me.
Whenever I go somewhere that I may meet a prostitute I am hoping that I might meet an 'angel'. This is my word for a particular type of girl, someone rare. I have only met a few angels in the years I have been going to see prostitutes. I can't fully explain what makes a girl an angel. An angel is pretty, feminine and graceful.
I met one on Tooting Bec Common a couple of years ago. Her name was Louise. I was sitting on a bench and she came up to me on her bike. I had already been with a woman so I didn't want to take Louise into the bushes. I should have done, and got her phone number too.
She rode off saying she couldn't believe there were no punters around. When I walked off I saw her again. She asked me if I could give her a couple of pounds. I gave her all my loose change and then I gave her a big hug. She seemed to like that. She had said she was a regular on the common but I have not seen her since.
A few years ago I was in Liverpool and I passed a beautiful girl standing on a corner of Hope Street near the Anglican cathedral. There used to be loads of prostitutes near there. I went into the cathedral gardens and sat on a bench. She walked past me with a man and gave me a big smile. I decided to follow them from a distance. They went into a shrubby part of the gardens. At first I thought I'd lost them but then I saw them embracing against a tree. She saw me and I hastily went off, thinking the man might get angry and confront me. Never saw her again.
When I went to my dentist there used to be an angel there, a dental assistant. One day I saw my dentist and I thought she used the acronym 'DP' when talking to her assistant. I was interested because DP means something very rude in pornographic videos. Just before I left the dentist I asked this girl who was behind the desk "Do you know what 'DP' means?". The look on her face, of suprise and amusement, told me she knew what it meant. I said that I thought the dentist had said 'DP' and I didn't know what it meant. Apparently there is no dental term DP.
I don't think she's there now. If I see her behind the desk again I will say to the other assistant "Do you know what DP means?". When she says no, I'll say "She knows what it means" and then leave.
I have also recently seen the other woman I talked about in the post. The one in Soho. She looked and sounded different from the other times I have seen her. I bought her something to eat. She recognized me but didn't seem pleased to see me and didn't want to talk much. She seemed more 'normal' than before, maybe they've changed her medication or something.
I talked to another young woman I saw in the street. The first time I saw Tracy was in the centre of Croydon. She was stopping people and asking them for money. I asked her why and she said that she needed money for somewhere to sleep that night. I mentioned that she didn't look very happy. I gave her a couple of quid and told her that the next time she saw me she could ask me again.
Weeks later I saw her outside the supermarket near where I live asking people for money. I didn't speak to her then. She came up to me in the street one day and I had a conversation with her. She said she was staying in a bed and breakfast hotel in that street. I asked her if she knew Trina and she said "Yes, I know Trina". Trina is a local drug addict that I have talked about in a previous post.
Tracy was quite scruffy-looking but she didn't look like and addict. She wasn't skinny. She is reasonably attractive. I haven't seen Tracy for a few weeks so I guess she must have moved on. If I had seen her again I would have asked her if she wanted anthing to eat and taken her to a local cafe.
You might think that I would have wanted to take Tracy back to my flat and have sex with her. I would only have done that if I thought it wouldn't have harmed her. I would have encouraged her not to go down the same route as Trina. I would have tried to help her see that she has an alternative to that.
If I thought that having sex with her would have made her think less of herself then I would not have done it. However, to a lot of these women having sex is no big deal. If a woman is on benefits and has nothing to do all day, then spending an hour having sex one afternoon with a nice man and getting £20 or £30 for it and a cup of tea after is something quite attractive. Or I could have photographed her.
Trina sent me a text message recently. It said "Do you remember me?". I didn't reply to her because I don't want to see her again. I don't even know if it was her, it could have been one of her male addict associates hoping to rob me.
Whenever I go somewhere that I may meet a prostitute I am hoping that I might meet an 'angel'. This is my word for a particular type of girl, someone rare. I have only met a few angels in the years I have been going to see prostitutes. I can't fully explain what makes a girl an angel. An angel is pretty, feminine and graceful.
I met one on Tooting Bec Common a couple of years ago. Her name was Louise. I was sitting on a bench and she came up to me on her bike. I had already been with a woman so I didn't want to take Louise into the bushes. I should have done, and got her phone number too.
She rode off saying she couldn't believe there were no punters around. When I walked off I saw her again. She asked me if I could give her a couple of pounds. I gave her all my loose change and then I gave her a big hug. She seemed to like that. She had said she was a regular on the common but I have not seen her since.
A few years ago I was in Liverpool and I passed a beautiful girl standing on a corner of Hope Street near the Anglican cathedral. There used to be loads of prostitutes near there. I went into the cathedral gardens and sat on a bench. She walked past me with a man and gave me a big smile. I decided to follow them from a distance. They went into a shrubby part of the gardens. At first I thought I'd lost them but then I saw them embracing against a tree. She saw me and I hastily went off, thinking the man might get angry and confront me. Never saw her again.
When I went to my dentist there used to be an angel there, a dental assistant. One day I saw my dentist and I thought she used the acronym 'DP' when talking to her assistant. I was interested because DP means something very rude in pornographic videos. Just before I left the dentist I asked this girl who was behind the desk "Do you know what 'DP' means?". The look on her face, of suprise and amusement, told me she knew what it meant. I said that I thought the dentist had said 'DP' and I didn't know what it meant. Apparently there is no dental term DP.
I don't think she's there now. If I see her behind the desk again I will say to the other assistant "Do you know what DP means?". When she says no, I'll say "She knows what it means" and then leave.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Elise Langham - missing girl
I have been going to Soho for years and two or three times I noticed a scruffy ill-looking girl in the street, usually in the company of other people. She looked like an addict but I don't know if she was a 'street girl'. She never propositioned me. I wouldn't have gone with her, even though she was quite pretty. I would have talked to her though, and maybe bought her something to eat.
Then just recently I saw something in the window of the police office in Peter Street in Soho. There were pictures of several people, their names and details of the ASBOs they had been given. I recognised one of the photos. It was the girl I had seen. I'm pretty sure it is the same girl.
It said that she had been given an Anti-Social Behaviour Order for drugs offenses and prohibited from entering the West End or Camden for 5 years. It said this was to 'protect residents and businesses from further anti-social acts'.
I looked up the name on Google and there are several articles from newspapers from a few years ago talking about a missing girl. She had left home and people were looking for her. I got the picture below from a BBC news site.
Poster appeal for missing Elise
Police searching for a "vulnerable" 16-year-old girl are putting up posters in an attempt to find her, a month after she disappeared.
It seems strange to me that the authorities thought that the best way to deal with her was with an ASBO. Isn't there some better way of dealing with girls like this than just banning them from where they live for years? If she breaks the terms of her ASBO she will go to jail.
It could be that something radical has to happen before she can turn her life around, and the ASBO might be it. Maybe she is back in her home town or with her family and she needs to know her old way of life is no longer open to her. I doubt that this kind of approach to the problem will work though.
The little poster in Peter Street did not say she was a thief. I don't think she had been stealing from local 'residents and businesses'. So I think that to say she was anti-social and that the community needs protecting from her is just wrong. It's just another example of how police are misusing Anti-Social Behaviour laws to stop people from doing things that they don't like. If it helped them it wouldn't be so bad. But this naming-and-shaming zero-tolerance attitude isn't intended to help people and probably won't.
Then just recently I saw something in the window of the police office in Peter Street in Soho. There were pictures of several people, their names and details of the ASBOs they had been given. I recognised one of the photos. It was the girl I had seen. I'm pretty sure it is the same girl.
It said that she had been given an Anti-Social Behaviour Order for drugs offenses and prohibited from entering the West End or Camden for 5 years. It said this was to 'protect residents and businesses from further anti-social acts'.
I looked up the name on Google and there are several articles from newspapers from a few years ago talking about a missing girl. She had left home and people were looking for her. I got the picture below from a BBC news site.
Poster appeal for missing ElisePolice searching for a "vulnerable" 16-year-old girl are putting up posters in an attempt to find her, a month after she disappeared.
It seems strange to me that the authorities thought that the best way to deal with her was with an ASBO. Isn't there some better way of dealing with girls like this than just banning them from where they live for years? If she breaks the terms of her ASBO she will go to jail.
It could be that something radical has to happen before she can turn her life around, and the ASBO might be it. Maybe she is back in her home town or with her family and she needs to know her old way of life is no longer open to her. I doubt that this kind of approach to the problem will work though.
The little poster in Peter Street did not say she was a thief. I don't think she had been stealing from local 'residents and businesses'. So I think that to say she was anti-social and that the community needs protecting from her is just wrong. It's just another example of how police are misusing Anti-Social Behaviour laws to stop people from doing things that they don't like. If it helped them it wouldn't be so bad. But this naming-and-shaming zero-tolerance attitude isn't intended to help people and probably won't.
documentary about street girls
I like to watch documentaries about drug addiction and prostitution. A few years ago I watched one about three girls who lived in Whitechapel in the East End of London. It was part of a series called Wasted. Stacey and her two friends Laura and Kelly were homeless and it showed them squatting first in Tower House, a large derelict building, and then in a nearby house.
They were addicted to crack cocaine and heroin but the documentary didn't seem to mention the crack cocaine. I think this may be because it is easier to have sympathy for a heroin addict than a crack addict. We think of heroin addicts as being forced to do things to avoid withdrawal symptoms. There are no withdrawal symptoms from crack.
Addicts can be prescribed methadone, which removes withdrawal symptoms. In Switzerland doctors can prescribe heroin, and this seems to get better results. Although I am against drugs, I would support something similar in Britain. Obviously, a heroin addict who is prescribed methadone or heroin is still an addict even if they stop buying heroin on the street. But at least their prescription is pure and unadulterated. Heroin addicts frequently die because they can't easily control the dose they take. And they won't need to get involved in prostitution or theft to pay for heroin. In their own time they can reduce the dose.
Crack cocaine is a different type of drug and I can't see how prescribing crack could work.
Laura had something wrong with her arm which meant she couldn't brush her hair easily. I expect it is quite difficult for homeless addicts to get to see a doctor. It was very sad to see and it makes you want to try to sort them out with their health problems by taking them to a doctor, dentist and optician. It shouldn't be that difficult to get them somewhere to stay, perhaps a hostel to begin with, get benefits sorted out and a methadone script.
Laura talked about her life. She said that she got into trouble early on but it was when her grandmother died that her problems really started. Laura was blamed by her family for the death of her Nan. They said the stress of Laura getting into trouble made her grandmother ill and caused her death. Laura wasn't allowed to attend the funeral although she loved her Nan. Her parents rejected her.
Stacey wrote poems about her life. One of them was quite powerful. However, through looking on the Internet I can see that she did not actually write it. She had a version of a poem possibly originally written by Larry Jackson for a woman called Miriam. It is called My Name is Cocaine. This is my own version.
My name is Cocaine
Coke for short
I came to this land
Without a passport
Ever since then
I've been hunted and sought
I'll make a student forget his books
I'll make a beauty neglect her looks
I'll make a teacher forget how to teach
I'll make a preacher not want to preach
I'll take your money and make you dirt poor
I'll take your sister and make her a whore
I'm a compulsion too tough for the man
I'm the reason for the battering ram
If you decide to climb on my back
You'd better ride me well
For the white horse of Crack
Will take you to hell.
There's one problem with this poem and that is that 'coke' is a street name for ordinary cocaine, whereas 'crack' is short for crack cocaine. Although coke and crack are both cocaine they are not the same, crack being much stronger and much more addictive.
They were addicted to crack cocaine and heroin but the documentary didn't seem to mention the crack cocaine. I think this may be because it is easier to have sympathy for a heroin addict than a crack addict. We think of heroin addicts as being forced to do things to avoid withdrawal symptoms. There are no withdrawal symptoms from crack.
Addicts can be prescribed methadone, which removes withdrawal symptoms. In Switzerland doctors can prescribe heroin, and this seems to get better results. Although I am against drugs, I would support something similar in Britain. Obviously, a heroin addict who is prescribed methadone or heroin is still an addict even if they stop buying heroin on the street. But at least their prescription is pure and unadulterated. Heroin addicts frequently die because they can't easily control the dose they take. And they won't need to get involved in prostitution or theft to pay for heroin. In their own time they can reduce the dose.
Crack cocaine is a different type of drug and I can't see how prescribing crack could work.
Laura had something wrong with her arm which meant she couldn't brush her hair easily. I expect it is quite difficult for homeless addicts to get to see a doctor. It was very sad to see and it makes you want to try to sort them out with their health problems by taking them to a doctor, dentist and optician. It shouldn't be that difficult to get them somewhere to stay, perhaps a hostel to begin with, get benefits sorted out and a methadone script.
Laura talked about her life. She said that she got into trouble early on but it was when her grandmother died that her problems really started. Laura was blamed by her family for the death of her Nan. They said the stress of Laura getting into trouble made her grandmother ill and caused her death. Laura wasn't allowed to attend the funeral although she loved her Nan. Her parents rejected her.
Stacey wrote poems about her life. One of them was quite powerful. However, through looking on the Internet I can see that she did not actually write it. She had a version of a poem possibly originally written by Larry Jackson for a woman called Miriam. It is called My Name is Cocaine. This is my own version.
My name is Cocaine
Coke for short
I came to this land
Without a passport
Ever since then
I've been hunted and sought
I'll make a student forget his books
I'll make a beauty neglect her looks
I'll make a teacher forget how to teach
I'll make a preacher not want to preach
I'll take your money and make you dirt poor
I'll take your sister and make her a whore
I'm a compulsion too tough for the man
I'm the reason for the battering ram
If you decide to climb on my back
You'd better ride me well
For the white horse of Crack
Will take you to hell.
There's one problem with this poem and that is that 'coke' is a street name for ordinary cocaine, whereas 'crack' is short for crack cocaine. Although coke and crack are both cocaine they are not the same, crack being much stronger and much more addictive.