Poems By Simon Beechinor

Listen to: The Seething City The seething city's grimy warren of cages, is journey's end for women and children trafficked to the trade for sex, day and night. To be hawked and sold beneath slavers' eyes, and passed from foul, corrupted hand to hand, to suffer their bodies’ auction in silence. I witnessed the truth of that silence. When through the barred and curtained gates of cages, reached the gaudy, perfumed and grasping hands of women, of girls and boys—of children, beckoning, cajoling me with pleading eyes, to rent and use them as I chose that night. Without custom, they’d not earn that night, but suffer behind their veil of silence. Fear betrayed their gayly painted eyes, for if they displeased the madam of the cages, she would break the spirit of those children held firm in bondage by her cruel hands. Their lives but a travesty in her hands, torn from their innocence by day and night. Who will protect those women, those children, while law and politicians stand in s

This poem is dedicated to unwilling butterflies everywhere. Listen to: Chrysanthemum's Song The season's first typhoon brought violent winds, And drenching torrents of storm-driven rain. Most people had gone home and left the streets, The shops and traders’ stalls, the bars and clubs Deserted, save for butterflies like me. While Mama-san cursed at the angry storm, I sang romantic ballads to my friends, And brushed aside their gentle-hearted teasing. The saddest songs soothed our wasted lives, And tightly bound our bonds of friendship. I sang a sad and bitter song of grief, Of a girl in bondage craving freedom, Denied her life, the chattel chooses death, And from her owner steals a vicious knife, And awaits her time to die—that girl was me. A young man appeared alone at our door As Mama-san worried at her profit. She'd gladly see the honest seaman skinned, She fussed and grumbled at the pouring rain, And led him childlike, by the hand to me. Before I left the stage to please