"debaucher" poems
Draped in boundless pride
she strolled along the streets,
the town's flamboyant prima ballerina.
Still little did the debaucher know her.
Defenceless she laid
as he spanked and clouted her,
Her vehement howling and wailing couldn't stop
the yanking of clothes.
Motionless, emotionless she laid
while he plundered and mutilated her body.
Vandalised by an uninvited visitor,
Incapable of moving her body
the ravishing ballerina reclined.
The scars he made was not on her body but deep in her soul.
That gloomy night whistled away
for the sun to flare its first ray.
'18 year old violently molested and deceased'.
Hence the prima ballerina became a mere newspaper headline.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
A diagnosis of masturbatory insanity
is the inevitable conclusion
that I, as a fellow onanist,
debaucher of sheep,
and baby goat buggerer
have bestowed upon your befuddled mind.
Your insistence in frequenting
the Heinous Sin of Self-Pollution
and self evacuation of one's seed
with mutual onanistic pursuits of sodamistic bed fellows
and other anti Christian pursuits,
have finally brought a visitation of madness
to the perverted soggy mess
masquerading as your brain;
If one may make an
advantageous suggestion
to your befuddled self,
it would be to seek out a restorative nervous elixir
or wrist strengthening electuary,
the former of which would aid in the
"compos mentis" of your good self;
and the latter is extremely efficacious in the
soothing of onanist wrist
and vinegar stroke eye.
but alas; neither is of use against the
" ejaculatio praecox " of foetid poetry..
your Servant, Obadiah Grey.
Secretary for spermatorrhea conservation
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
What has happened to me?
My home invaded with malevolent glee!
All my furniture has been moved!
To places that I do not approve!
Strangers rummaging through my once quaint estate!
Murking it with audacious goods without my debate!
I worked to hard for all my stuff!
How dare you move it away so ruff!
If only I could push you away,
I do not want you to stay!
This home is all I have left.
I will fight on, even if you all are deft!
Here once was my glorious dinning room,
Now a den for mongrel fraternity fume!
The debaucher in these once quaint walls,
Enrages me as my would-be tear falls.
There must be a way to get my home back!
So many young men I yearn to smack!
Why these boys to take over my home?
They treat it like a lurid **** in ancient Rome!
If only I could.. Oh wait I can!
Move this garbage brought by man!
Lets see how you like you secret hidden stash of ***
Ending up in the neighbor’s lot!
Or how about these insipid pile of clothes
Draped with my thorns and rose!
What are these strange record tables?
Why would you need two to play two old vynal labels?
This stuff is so confusing to me.
Endless dull colors and metals as far as I can see.
Well if I am stuck living with you feral beasts,
A little discipline is in order, in the very least!
First, we must clean this god-forsaken mess.
Let me show you where these clothes should rest.
Then I will find a way to tame you wild young devils,
To respect your lady guests during your revels.
Maybe that is why I am still here?
Trapped with these oaths, who cause me to leer.
Is this torment for being such an old grinch?
Every penny stored and accounted for in the pinch.
Your judgment is harsh, dear lord, for placing me here.
Now lets see how these boys handle my ghostly enraged fear.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
She ****** the marrow from my bones.
Smacked her lips, she'd fed her fill from my blood.
I could only think of long winter nights
and found myself in terrible fright.
My instrument so amorous
I believed her lies.
How could I know
her beast inside?
It began with my lust for wine.
that fueled this madness; a helpless
debaucher now souless and dying.
I hear my wife and all her crying.
The ***** promised wine
then ****** my blood.
The feeling was mutual, familiar
and the dream was done.
You will die, I heard her say.
This **** I found in an alleyway.
This rotting corpse with no remorse.
All it wanted she got and more.
Does this mean I've lost my soul?
Dead drunk I'd laugh and not recall.
My mind was driven by autumn tides.
Drink and madness killed my life.
I sail the morrow on the morning tide.
In this casket I will reside.
The **** of ***** took all my pride.
The ****** **** not at my side.
She laughed again with no shame.
This is not a sublime disgrace.
My wife, dear wife won't touch this box.
She must go and get a lock.
Bones chained in this prison dark.
Eternity has no end...no start.
My blood flowed in her throat like a sobbing flood.
I sought oblivian in a vile ****
My blood drunk by the Devil's *****
Sorry dearie, there is no more.
My dearest wife absolved my drink.
This foulest of deeds beyond her brink.
I am a ****** soul with unbending regret.
None of it matters for I am dead.
Forgive me wife, your love was a flame.
My hideous lust your only shame.
I am a tormented cry that no one hears.
Good-bye...
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 5:44 PM UTC
i see him straightening the
ruffle of his native clothing,
putting words of truth
inside the empty parentheses
of mendacities -
it is through his leonine eyes
that i see the pointlessness
of men. through the
TV's hoarse static i can hear
his voice occupy the space
of obligation without swerving
to paths made available for ease
without clear trudge.
sir, you make it painless
to conceive these cutting truths -
death trembles in these taut attestations. in half-lighted periphery i can see the shadows
threatening to cast us into damnation, and it is in the bright ray of your speech that i have started to uncover the beasts
and their diminutive language.
dark as dark these ploys could be,
now that they are whiter than
ever with their transparencies,
you have handed these people
flames to torch effigies
and use their glare to light
the intransigent paths
to this nation's true calling!
spare us from the debaucher
of this once sacred land, the contortionists of these ill fates.
and preserve our just tillage
over these archipelagos!
save us from the vertigo of these
mangled, twisting roads!
give our speech obdurate
magnitude so we can hammer down
the lies thrown at us and cast them away together with their wretched demagogues!
let us once more, be brave
to withstand the eye of storms
and emerge wizened like
trees in the summer of
our old, resplendent memories
where everything is
and nothing
is speaking loosely
of something far from our hands
to hold, like
prosperity,
or effulgence - altogether!
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
Left home in the morning
Excited to spend the day with friends
Aware of the fact that i need to be home
Much Before the sun sets.
Not because i had to rest well For my exam tomorrow,
Not because i had to go to work early,
It was because we live in a society
Where i could be ***** if i walked home alone,
When it is dark already..
I am getting cold feet
As am walking alone towards my home
I see him walking towards me
"You are a piece of meat for me,"
Told he,
I start running
I am panting
He runs behind me faster
Grabs me,slaps me and drags me
Drags me into the bushes
Helplessly i resent
Thats when i wake up
I wake up disturbed
I am perspiring
Thinking what a **** victim must have underwent!
Remember
It is not your fault
Because you wore a short
It can't be a reason for assault
They are debaucher
They don't need a reason
They just need a prey.
And We need to deal with them,straightaway.
Though we are walking alone
We can't be a victim
Our life cant come to a standstill
For few scoundrels
Lets Stand up for ourselves
Learn to fight
Be bold
Lets just not moan..
we need to make this world a better place for our daughters
We need to get rid of these rotters
WE NEED TO GET RID OF THESE ROTTERS!
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC