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 Sep 2016 Veronica
Thomas EG
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 Sep 2016 Veronica
Thomas EG
His smile captivates me...
It's been so long
Since I've felt pure joy
But when I hear him laugh,
When he pulls me closer,
Something inside of me
Clicks into place

I know that I love him
It's obvious to anyone
With functional eyeballs...
He creeps into my mind,
Crawls over my heart,
Again and again
And teases me to surrender

His hands, his mouth,
His gentle tools of expression...
We make love,
And it really is love,
And I am content

Life still gets rough
And I still break down
But he is there for me
Waiting, always,
On the other side
Like he has been
This whole time

He is important
We are important
And, although he blinds me,
I can see clearer than before
And I see the truth

He makes me blush,
Turns my cheeks pink,
He knows just what to say
When I get stuck
And I will love him
Until fate decides
Otherwise...
 Sep 2016 Veronica
Mike Essig
Today a ten-year-old girl
threatened suicide at school because
a trusted uncle had molested her.

What kind of ******* world
has this become?

Police were called,
Child Services arrived,
statements were taken.
no doubt social workers
were stirred into the mix.

I am a man of the 20th Century,
just old enough to remember outrage,
to remember when too much was taboo,
to remember personal honor.

When I was a kid, this monster
was snatched from his bed
by righteous neighbors, dragged begging
to a private place beyond help
and been beaten nearly to death
by the fathers of other potential victims.

Imagine a circle of men, ordinary men,
mostly World II and Korea veterans:
insurance men, car salesmen, farmers,
store keepers, salesmen, even a lawyer
tightening the circle in the torchlight.

The monster begged, pleaded, wept,
wet himself, **** himself, whimpered.

The sheriff  watched, smiled,
and then rearrested the pervert for resisting.

Had he lived, the monster would never
have touched a little girl again in our town,
knowing that his life would be forfeit
and end abruptly and anonymously.

Probably, he would have just slunk away.

This new state of bureaucracy cares nothing
for the victims it claims to protect.
It only wants the paperwork filled out correctly.

I was 11, 1962 in a quiet sleepy town.
My father took me to see what evil brings,
the best lesson he ever taught me.

If I had been old enough I would have joined in
without so much as a twinge of regret.

You liberal ostriches can call this brutality if you like.
I call it community action, community justice.
People protecting what is there's to protect
when the official guardians just go through the motions

I miss the 20th Century. I miss justice.

  ~mce
True incident
Do you know the muffin man?,
Its not a nursery rhyme,
He haunts kids dreams with horrid scenes,
The scream from time to time.

His apron smelled of cinnamon,
His finger nails were clean,
He brought the nicest cookies home,
Mommys face would gleam.

He came to school two days a wek,
And gave out yummy pasties,
He chose kids very carefully,
Rejection made him nasty.

She found it out the hard way,
When she pulled away from him,
He told them she was telling lies,
He tore her from within.

Her mommy looked so horrified,"How could you?",
She would say,
"Poor daddy brings such good things home,
You will be sent away".

Society believed this man,
And Cherry went away,
Asylum life was home for her,
For 10 years and 4 days.

So many children broke their silence,
And accusations heightened,
They spoke of muffins molestations,
Mommy became frightened.

They came in droves to talk to Cherry,
From shrinks to talk show hosts,
They helped her open up,
And talk about those childhood ghosts.

Now, muffin man has ***** hands,
And spends his life in prison,
But left behind are countless kids,
Cause mommy wouldn't listen ...
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