Are Your Legs Tired?

The throbbing base begins its ascent

As the subtle modesty descends

Your costume labels you unholy

But my desire's akin to sin

The guitar's emotional lament

Underlies your sultry swagger

Your eyes lie lifeless from apathy

Innocence torn from you long ago

Your body rides the bombastic beat

Your raven haired bun framing your face

Your top obscuring my sole purpose

As I anticipate your bare skin

Your overwhelming confidence

Excites my unbridled craving

You execute your dance of desire

As I offer tokens of attention

You slither towards my trembling frame

Breasts undulating on their own dance

Gather my mind to a single sight

Our eyes come together in purpose

My hope to peek behind the curtain

Your talent is to drain me for your gain

With the invitation of your body

And my anticipation rising

The choatic lights slide across your skin 

As you writhe, mirroring my fantasy

An almost embarrassing display

Creates an atmosphere of silence

Taken with your interpretation

Charisma; difficult to explain

Alas, impossible to forget

The crescendo is within your grasp

As the audience provides support

Ever faster; a whirling dervish

Heel stomps, pole bouncing, acrobatics

You sacrifice the stage to your sweat

The song trails off into the distance

Your strategic sonata gives way

To the holistic hum of the crowd

One last glance; the ringmaster bellows

You collect your bounty for beauty

You gather your costume once again

Subduing your sex-soaked persona 

To mingle with the yearning masses 

Seeking one who lusts to touch the dream

Filling their rejection with deceit

Caressing the object desired

In the hopes of a moments solace

Descend into their desperation

Remembering that "All the worlds a stage"

Offer them your hollowed out body

Tuck your soul away for safe keeping

Giving them their song for your "success"

Taking your characterization

To dance through their minds every day 

The First Pages, Hummingbird....

     Strip clubs are a microcosm of pure capitalism and lucid psychology in action. I didn't always understand the allure and idea of these environments, having been taught that they were a form of sex industry. The visual of drunken, writhing bodies and the scent of sweat overtaking me kept me hesitant, and the idea of a beautiful woman I could never have causing me to lust seemed to be a form of self torture. This seems to be the male dilemma I have encountered - either men see it as a visual buffet of beauty or a withheld, painful longing. After finally going to my first strip club, I found there was a third option. Hanging out and talking to the women at the club showed me a kinship with people who want to be heard; women who spend time satusfying the needs of others who don't take a moment to actually recognize the human being in front of him.

      Worse yet are the opinions of many women who cataloguer he club as a seedy pool where men go to leer and share sexuality with other women. The reality is that the club is a much less threatening option to relationships, a service that provides a fantasy with no ability to be attained by customers. In talking to the dancers, one comes to learn that these people, like the rest of us, have dreams and goals and struggles, just like the rest of us. They aren't any more sexual or deviant than the rest of us - they merely have a comfort with their bodies that allows them to provide a service that is seen less threatening when a Hollywood actress does it. A double standard given by societal norms and reinforced by women's insecurities (placed on then by society as well).

      This book is an attempt to reflect on these faceless women and reveal the reality of their profession. There is a wonder to what dancers are able to do on a daily basis, and there is a psychological toll that comes with being ignored in plain sight - giving others satisfaction while being offered nothing but money in return. There is no shame in what they do, and it is time that we, as a people, recognize this is a form of entertainment, not the prelude to an orgy.

Strippers Say the Darndest Things!

A wraith sliding quickly, Against a background of darkness And spotlighted mayhem; Circling as a vulture Your prey in my grasp. With a "hello", the dance begins. A common occurrence in a Place of some ill repute, The beginning steps the same. Then, they rhythm changes You take me on a journey Of stars and ideals and wonder I join you in this quest, Willing participant to Philosophy in a place Of perpetuated perversion. Your eyes ask, "What are you doing here?" My actions respond, "Touche'". Your chair inches closer Captivated by my forethought Not by the usual finances. Sharing stories and ideas Our rhythm keeps you close Lost in who we are Not where we are A hawk glides in to Remind you that you have An offering to provide. "Go get your sacrifice," I say to you certainly. I will wait here. With a glance backward, A tender sadness crosses Your jaded visage. Fading into the shrouded chaos; A darkened Angel. Not one who fell to Earth, But one who takes this place Of sin and servitude And raises it to another plane; Another ideal; Another fantastic adventure.