"perpetrators" poems
I keep my feelings on a leash,
locked in a cage like the perpetrators of crime.
Sometimes I take them out for walks
to test out their rarely used legs on the ground.
Only too reel them back in,
too scared to let them wander,
wander towards those who let theirs loose freely,
not caring where they step.
For I have learned that this only leads to hurt.
Stubbed toes on the curbsides called love.
Failed attempts at crossing the crosswalk,
into the depths of someones shallow, unforgiving arms.
Not paying attention to the Stop sign right next to them.
Over and over, I wish I would've noticed that sign sooner..
Before all the heartbreaks and fallen tears.
And that is why
the footwork of my heart, kept captive in the dark,
is sleeping in silence for perhaps eternity
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
i am so ugly, why am i ugly
i am not happening, what is happening,
still so ugly, i am trash
so minnesota, i am abstract
forget my alibi, i am so ugly
**** what im worth, i have these maggots
inside me living, morbidly filthy
deserve to live me, i am so filthy
no one has done me,
no one i am
i have these maggots, here to preserve me
i am not me, i am these maggots,
they represent me, deserve to live in me,
i am so filthy, plz just **** me
forget the feeling, i have no feeling
simple being, i am so ugly,
i feel so ugly, feeling like stealing,
i am stealing, breathless feeling
senseless beating, set fire to me
i am so ugly, so ******* filthy.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
it seems we live in times
when helping hands extend only reluctantly
to those in dire need who had to leave
the ruins of their devastated homes
not waiting for more bombs to fall
to those who had to save their lives
from the barbaric rule of self-styled prophets
and those whose simple love of education
was met with inane terror and oppression
why is it that so many people
are afraid of them and think
these desperate refugees are perpetrators
not the victims
why is it that the nations most responsible
for chaos and destruction in these countries
far from their own safe shores
are the least willing to accommodate
those they have driven from their homes
good Samaritans have become scarce
only a few today share their possessions
with those who are in greater need
our humanity has been outsourced
to NGOs and sundry other institutions
to whom we donate so they feed
the hungry poor and the displaced
it makes one wonder whether shameless greed
has indeed
and without any saving grace
become the only goal of our race
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
The arrogance of the men and their violence
in all possible forms
– completely everyday or extraordinary,
subtle or extreme,
considered as being normal or abnormal –
depend on this, of course,
that they are either denied or justified
from the perpetrators of the violence themselves.
But also by the women in any way
glossed over, excused or forgiven,
which from childhood to the present day, in Western countries too,
has been brainwashed thoroughly,
which means: shut up, be obedient
and offer no resistance.
© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Once upon a time
There were fairies called, V fairies
Fairies who were so beautiful and fine
It was magical, their existence
They lived inside maidens
Who were ought to protect them
In return, the fairies embodied them
With purity as shiny as a diamond emblem
These fairies were sought by every men
For they are the greatest gift that can be bestowed to them
That's why they seek for the perfect maiden
From whom this wish, they can attain
The maidens were set on a journey
To find warriors who are worthy
Warriors who love sincerely
And will vow to cherish them for eternity
The fairies those times were well-respected
They were treasures almost impossible to find
The fairies were boldly protected by their maidens
They are only given to those truly worthy ones
Fast forward to this generation however
Through time, the maidens eventually are weakened
They have let their guards down
And thought all men were worthy of the crown
The V fairies are not given anymore
They are forcefully taken, oftentimes with gore
They are taken due to curiosity, or worst
Taken because of lust, then perpetrators disappear like ghosts
Fairies became men's collections
More fairies, more rights to boast
More manly they are than before
More wins at the competition they build on their own
Maidens lost their credibility as the fairies' protectors
They didn't care about them, like they're not part of them anymore
Throwing them away when they're bored
Not caring if many men do hoard
V fairies were not gifts anymore
V fairies were taken away even without the promise of forevermore
V fairies were simply picked up like on a shopping galore
V fairies were disrespected, to adore no more
But there are beliefs that some of the fairies survived
Living within maidens who stood firm and with their best, tried
To find worthy ones and battle with the wicked
To let the fairies stainless and protected
There are beliefs also that worthy warriors are still there
Who still respects and cherish the value of the diamond emblem
Who knows how to wait until the fairies are given to them
And knows how to take care of their chosen maidens
With these beliefs there's still hope for the future
That the responsibility of a maiden to its fairies will be nurtured
A hope that this will be passed on to generations after
In a hope that V fairies will have a happily ever after
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
cope with all the greed injustice and brutality
we learn about day in day out
with some luck
these are not part of our own experience
but second hand from news and media
this does not make it better though
when trusted public figures fail
how to react
to priests and teachers
who abuse the young
to presidents dictators populists
leading astray their countries
to our elected politicians
unable to resist the lure
and money
of those special interest groups
to ruthless powermongers businesses
that only work for profit
not the common good
resistance is not easy
the choice of weapons in this conflict difficult
yet if we not resist
not make the global and the smaller perpetrators
accept responsibility for their misdeeds
our living years will soon grow fewer
and we shall hasten our journey
to the end of all our needs
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
[[ ****
blood pooling around her
there she lay sprawled
eyes glazed,motionless with no stir
she is another victim to succumb
to this heinous inhuman act
the mission is accomplished
the criminal thinks
freely he walks
head and shoulder held high
among mortals he laugh
life goes on ,another life gone
my sister,mum and aunt
the daughters of eve are endangered
my brother,dad and i
the all sons of adam
are the perpetrators
fear exists among our female species
they fear to be stripped off their
coverings
they live in a nightmare of being
stripped off their dignity
unwillingly be disrobed and be
robbed
they fear being deflowered and
defiled
out of her will she was forced
naked and spreadeagled
vitruvian man style she lay
her case was a repetition of a biblical
story
dinah and the sons of shechem
blood freely trickled between her
open pelvic
life seeped out of her misused shell
did she really deserve this???
who will end this atrocity?
who will fight for the girl child?
toddlers and grannies
shamelessly chauvinist male defiles
them
its against the word
its against the unwritten codes
it's unafrican
it's evil
my anger is frothing
like a volcano the lava is heating up
my pen is crying for the female child
i will shout this from rooftops
on the skyline i will write it
this battle is ours and we have to
fight
protection we've to offer
[[the chronicles of the dumb speaker]]
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
I am an African,
Just like you are,
Here I am in Africa,
From Africa,
I may speak,
Not your African language,
But a cataclysmic African,
Who speaks my African language,
I am.
An inferior African,
You may as you do,
Regard me,
But still,
African I am,
African I cry,
African I laugh,
African I sing,
African I live.
You have made me feel ashamed,
To be in this part of Africa,
But never,
Will you make me feel ashamed,
To be African,
Whatever derogatory labels,
You may stick on me,
No matter how unAfrican,
Kwerekwere, Grigamba or whatever,
But still,
I will be an African,
Even a much better one.
African,
Like my father,
His fore fathers,
And their forefathers,
African,
Just like I was yesterday,
African,
Just like I am now,
African,
That is what I will always be,
And African,
Forever.
According to the author, we are all foreigners in any country on this earth, more like tenants. No one has any claim to any portion of this earth for it belongs to God. The barbaric, self-centered and intolerant demeanor we have recently witnessed in South Africa tells the story of mindless teaks on a dog that are claiming to own the dog and solidifies the myth that Africa is a dark continent and Africans are still stuck in the animal kingdom. How do we dispute what is becoming more of a fact that “you can take Africans from the bush but you can never take the bush out of Africans”. Fellow South Africans (the perpetrators), you have proved to be more disgusting than ***** and the most befitting place for you is the sewage dump that is far away from Africa. If there was another Africa that is not this Africa, I would have done the obvious and most logical thing – to completely disassociate my dignified African self from the brainless, destructive, inhuman thugs that you are. Today, I am an African who is dead ashamed to be African!
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
A generation filled with hate,
fueled by our elders,
every decision lies in their hands.
The perpetrators of our demise,
is not ourselves.
It’s the world that’s been created for us,
what a surprise.
A generation filled with pain,
depressions an epidemic
that others don’t always understand.
A world created for competition not salvation,
or finding inner peace.
A generation filled with love,
society has taught us to suppress.
Who's the best? Who's the most powerful?
Redefining love to something people can barely express,
swimming in an ocean of fear;
fear of rejection,
fear of failure,
fear of ourselves.
A generation filled with so much,
That was always told:
"it’s not enough".
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital.
But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show.
She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims.
The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks.
For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught.
"I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician."
The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel.
Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day.
"We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge."
Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely.
In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable.
"I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Don’t call it a protest
When clearly it’s anybody’s guess
From what I see it’s the anatomy
Of how things can digress
Don’t call it a protest
If it’s an urban insurrection
Although I feel at best
It's a blow to the mid-section
Don’t call it a protest
Or the perpetrators simply thugs
After years of daily oppression
Knowing what oppression does
Don’t call it a protest
Call it anything other than that
When you see the anger boiling over
Because they’ve taken it to the mat
Don’t call it a protest
Or believe the media’s spin
When grievances aren’t addressed
It’s no telling where it will end
Don’t call it a protest
Or even try to dignify
The looting and the burning
Without answering the question why
Don’t call it a protest
Or mention First Amendment rights
When the majority of the people
Have to spend sleepless nights
Don’t call it a protest
Or look for a convenient excuse
For how they expressed their frustration
Through criminal acts of abuse
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
Ya Know Peoples’ Behaviour’s...
Getting... Stranger And STRANGER... !!!
NO... Away In A Manger... !!!
But PLENTY of DANGER... !!!
In... Peoples Behaviour... !!!
Because Corona’s Brought Flavours...
When It Comes To THAT PAPER... !!!
That Are A... GAME CHANGER... !!!
So Some Peoples Behaviour’s...
Beginning To Tailor...
Itself Towards... Vader’s... !!!
Because of DICTATORS...
Who Have Now Endangered... !!!
MORE THAN... Livelihoods...
Now Lives Have Been Took...
That’s EVEN SHOOK CROOKS... !!!
So Behaviours Now Look...
Like They’re Ready To Cook...
MUCH MORE Than PROTESTS...
When Leaders Send Feds’...
To Now Fire BULLETS... !!!
At WOMEN On Front Lines...
Who Now STAND AGAINST...
Racism And Violence...
That Lead To Black Deaths... !!!
By... Taking of Breaths...
By Some YES Policemen... !!!
They’re Behaviours ATTEST...
To Delivering STRESS...
To Lots of Blacks HEADS... !!!
So OF COURSE Some Are VEX... !!!!!
About Treatment We Get... !!!
But... Protest Behaviour...
Has Got... INSTIGATORS...
Who May Be IMITATORS... ?!?
And... CONTAMINATORS...
Used To Be MUTILATORS... !!!
of Behaviours Now Caused...
By BLATANTLY FLAGRANT...
ABUSE of THEIR Laws... !?!
Hold Up... Let Me PAUSE......................
Did I Just Call Them... " LAWS "... ?
What Do They Stand For... ?!?
Cos They’re CLEARLY NOT Made...
To Now PROTECT The Hoards … ?
I Mean... MASSES of People...
Who Seem READY For WAR... !?!
In... Different Locations...
It Seems That Behaviours...
Are Now Fighting For...
MORE Than Freedom of Thought... !!!
IT’s... FREEDOM To TALK...
That’s Now Being Cut SHORT... !?!
When Clearly Behaviours...
Should OPEN UP MORE Than EVER BEFORE... !!!
But THESE MANIPULATORS...
Have Their Perpetrators...
of Behaviours That Walk...
With Talk That Is FALSE... !!!
From These CORONA Wars...
To These CLOSED Corridors...
Where Decisions Are BOUGHT !
I Dunno Anymore... ?!?
If We’ll Ever ENFORCE...
Behaviours Like Jailers...
For Traitors Who Break Laws... !!!
ESPECIALLY When...
They Are Leaders And Lords !!!
Instead of Behaviours...
That... DESTROY The Poor... !!!
We NEED CASTIGATORS...
And... Coordinators...
Whose Behaviours Are PURE... !!!
Instead of These FAKERS...
And... New Age ENSLAVERS... !!!
Who Drive These Creations...
of Thoughts That I TAILOR...
To Speak On These Subjects...
Like Peoples’...
.... “BEHAVIOUR”....
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
DOMESTIC VIOLENCE DESTROYS
YOUR HEART MIND AND SOUL
IT TAKES YOUR PRIDE
YOUR FAMILY AND YOUR GOALS
YOU FEEL HELPLESS AND
CONFRONTED AND TERRIBLY ALONE
IF YOU ARE NOT TO AFRAID
YOU MAY SEEK HELP ON THE PHONE
YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS
REALLY DON'T KNOW YOUR PAIN
YOU REALLY DON'T KNOW
SHOULD YOU GO OR REMAIN
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT
YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG
YOU DEFINITELY SHOULD NOT STAY
WHERE YOU DON'T BELONG
YOU MUST THINK OF YOURSELF
AND YOUR PRECIOUS KIDS
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT THAT
YOUR PARTNER IS ON THE SKIDS
THE PERPETRATORS OF THIS VIOLENCE
SHOULD BE HELD TO ACCOUNT
BEFORE THEIR UNTOLD DAMAGE
REALLY BEGINS TO MOUNT
SO LOOK INSIDE YOUR SOUL
AND GATHER YOUR STRENGTH
FOR YOUR PASSION MUST BE TRUE
AND YOUR COMMITMENT HAVE LENGTH
SO WHEN YOU DECIDE TO LEAVE
YOUR SOUL WILL SORE
FOR YOUR KIDS AND YOU
WILL BE FREE FOREVER MORE
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
Where Purity is the Covering of All Flesh
and no private part of the human body
may be shown
and thus where the lack of Purity is Dishonesty
and therefore are Dishonest Paintings
wherein are depicted female ******* and such
buttocks and navel
and where genitalia female or male
asleep or awake
and such are shown
and crotches and such flesh and curvatures
may arouse
such being Dishonest Paintings
the Eminent Guardians of Purity
announce multiple positions vacant
of Reviewer of Dishonest Paintings
and so to cover up with black paint any signs of *******
and so of any other part of images in such paintings
as buttocks cover up with black paint
and so on each Dishonest part of human anatomy
to be covered with black paint
and in this task one always to use a firm, long brush -
the longer and firmer the better for the Soul -
so that
one may not come too close to such obscenities
as coming close one may be aroused to ***** desires
in male
(Females need not apply for said position
for such lascivious creatures are always
in a state of wet desires)
and so in covering with black paint
the Sanctity and the Will of Heaven prevails
and human souls transported to Divine Ecstasy
at the sight of paintings with black holes
corrected by expert Reviewer of Dishonest Paintings
and such positions to be filled
by honest men firm in their resolve
and long in stamina and determination
they should arrange their own transport
for various locations in the Holy Empire
for indeed Various Positions are available
and while the renumeration is handsome
derived from confiscation of properties and means
of the Perpetrators
of those Works of Perfidy and Damnation
those Artists who produce and who engender
Dishonest Paintings and such Works
and far more too included in Renumeration
is the Seat of Purity in Heaven -
O the pay shall be Eternal Heaven
Apply directly and in person
at the South Wall of the Grand House of Divinity -
put your scrolls in the holes
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 4:20 AM UTC
****** **** such a tragedy.
Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity.
Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden.
A sin so scandalous so forbidden.
This secret is the reason for some insane things.
Punishment on our Nation it brings.
Stop the transgress it’s time to progress
to detest the ugliness of ******
The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness
Crimes within the family.
Outcry why oh God why.
Emotions cry spirits die.
Survival with scars somehow.
Child kept secrets at least for now.
Innocent sweet nectar just taken.
Abused shattered then forsaken.
Inwardly hating the humiliation.
Lingering curse. Bound to be rehearsed.
A bloodline search, unthought-of curse our generation.
How can we cleanse this crime from our nation.
Child **** such outrage of wickedness.
Such a corruptible trespass.
Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys.
Outcry iniquity. Loss of innocent purity.
Killers of purity, thieves,
bandits doings malicious things in secrecy.
Abused children in mind body and spirit.
Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it.
Legal laws. Often with flaws
Putting children in harms way.
Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay.
Courts judicial systems poor outcome.
Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done
It’s a unhealed spiritual condition.
Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction.
Wrongful unthinkable vexation.
Impure affections of ****** connection.
Between the bloodlines.
Children with Children sexually learned crimes.
Scares of a lifetime.
People wake up let us not be blind.
I beg you I pray.
Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Inserted ear buds
Attempted confinement
Chained to misery.
My igloo of isolation with the computer doesn't hold well against
Winds of anxiety blowing torrents of stuff through my mind.
An arctic tundra of ravaged grass.
Long-necked lamp looms
Waiting anxiously for me and
Witnessing bouts of non-progress.
Perpetrators impregnate fleeting tranquility
Never wanting me to win
in my concentration.
--Bony bodies slipping under the crack in the door.
They are the Monkey Mind
I have to escape from.
Many.
Petty.
Fears.
This is the way my consciousness wages war.
Ripping itself apart
Defeating purpose
till there is none.
During battles,
Monkeys Rule It All.
At the end
I shall win.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
On the stage
under the lights
in front of the auditorium seats
a
Sneering, jeering, laughing
audience at
one on the stage
The spinning shimmering
hologram
of
all my fears
reluctance
guard rails
concrete barriers
perpetrators
and
victims too
rememberings
and
anticipation
stood
Connected to me
by
a long tether
And
along that tether
my
power flowed
away from me
Into the performing
Mannequin
on
that stage.
Who was the puppet master?
In a moment of freedom
or was it just pique
with my golden scissors
the
tether was
cut.
The shimmering stood
for a moment on stage
the crowd became silent
and
looked away.
In my moment
of release
I wished it well
compassion and peace
and
I was finally free.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
1991
I realized
We were both born
in rotting soil,
plastic toys fed
by Arabia's oil.
Eyes closed,
ears behest
to broadcasts, we,
could NOT protest.
That was the beginning
of our mass destruction,
but cribs offsides,
we slept soundly,
thanking our stars,
proud to be Americans.
10 years dormant,
the lyrics laid,
enough to stick,
but their irony to fade.
Until grade school,
recess goaded,
as burning buildings
on our side exploded.
The imminent threat preloaded,
in airports we shed shoes,
forever coded.
The broadcast — our center
was the theorem
that planes, oil, and Arabs
risked everyone's freedom.
But when we raised hands,
to ask why, teachers said
hail red, blue,
and especially white.
We forgot our roots,
because the Ellis Island trip
was obviously cancelled.
So we read headlines,
instead of Orwell,
the day 911
called for a police state.
Trusted the government
and ****** Muslims,
the day turbans
meant hijacking planes.
Pledged allegiance
disguised as freedom,
the day war
was declared
on Saddam Insane.
Our flag revealed
a sham feeding flames,
angst-ridden
teenagers
we became.
With raised middle fingers,
instead of hands,
to Green Day lyrics,
**** Amuricans.
Because only idiots
press a red button twice,
when mass destruction is the price.
And only villains
make children orphans,
while victims drown
in New Orleans.
And only gluttons
eat caviar with silver spoons,
tainting forever
a nation's youth.
Entrenched in dunes,
we boarded blind,
to debt,
death, and
jaded minds.
Blamed by perpetrators
in dollars and change,
for a guerrilla war
fought in vain!
Voted Obama,
with Osama slain,
and soldiers withdrawn,
we hoped for change.
PLEASE, we cried,
JUST STOP!
We are CHAINED —
to a bulldozer
that has NO BRAKES!
…
So the broadcast said recently:
We are losing control
of the Middle East. And
Al-Qaeda is far from weak —
ISIS: THE PHOENIX OF HUMAN GREED,
We just turned off our TV's
and looked up,
the kids who gave up,
thanked Musk — our atlas,
not yet shrugged,
whose vessels of stars
will rocket toward Mars,
from this godforsaken
civilization
built on hate.
And when you tell me, ***
"We were both born in 1991,"
I can only sigh,
and breath sympathy,
for our dark history.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
God Bless ye,
The weary, the broken
The ones who are bleeding
Lifeless
Go away, weary souls
You do not deserve such earthly
Despair
The bodies broken,
But the souls,
Intact?
To the stratosphere with you
And to those who are the
Perpetrators
I do not wish for damnation
I hope for forgiveness
And I hope for reconciliation
Blood marks where people
Once stood
Now there are bodies
Lying in the neighborhood.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
We all start with blank faces.
Ebony or
Ivory or
Olive or
Anything in between.
Skin so dark they don't sell the shade at Sephora.
Skin so light you've got to mix the color with white to make it match.
Whatever the color, it's all the same skin.
We all start with blank faces
Made of cells and covered in blemishes
Stretched thin across our cheekbones
Or hanging loose and wrinkled with age,
With lines on our foreheads like
Punishment
for laughing too much.
When did laughter become such a grievous crime?
We all start with blank faces.
… and then we become Van Gogh.
With expert brush strokes, we paint.
We coat ourselves with thick layers of pastey goop like Elmer's glue
Paint it on thick to cover our blemishes and red spots
We top it off with pigment like powdered sugar on sweets
Not knowing that the more opaque our makeup is, the more transparent.
We all start with blank faces.
… and then we become sculptors
Contouring and contorting to conform to unrealistic standards.
We highlight our best features and conceal the rest.
We conceal the redness of our cheeks just to paint it on again with blush.
We paint wings on our eyes although we'll never fly.
We all start with blank faces.
… and then we become victims of consumerism
Spending our money on different shades of the same **** thing
They raise the prices because they know they'll sell it to us anyway
They force it upon us, then shame us for becoming slaves to it
We are the victims and the perpetrators.
We all start with blank faces
… and then we become artists
… and then we become victims
… and then we become warriors
This is our war paint.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
2010-Contest: HORROR & FANTASY FICTION
Creeping down the decrepit stairwell,
Dust rising under my bare feet.
Fearing I will become a victim clutched by the night.
Slowly dragging my tortured, mangled leg,
I journey quietly, holding back tears,
Pausing by doorways, to deep darkened rooms.
Listening intently to every sound,
Sure it will be the last I ever hear.
Before I'm dragged to the deepest corners
Of my fertile mind, working in overdrive,
Conjuring images, I'm too frightened to admit are my own.
Having taken part in terrors of my past,
My mind rushes from one to the next as I progress
Finding my way through this deep maze,
Like the sweat of fear trickling down my back.
Bringing shivers in this hot, humid hell.
Making my way through doors,
Wooden floors creaking under foot.
Senses heightened by sheer terror,
Webs, brushing my cheek, creating panic in my mind,
Small hairs standing on end, hair that at any other time
I would be totally unaware of.
Rasping voices whispering,
In every deep, dank recess.
Telling me to run, begone,
Stop disturbing this expectant silence,
Inviting fear, agony, and hopelessness.
And there, before me, the essence of this dreaded night,
Waiting patiently for me to approach as it knew I would.
Every instinct I have telling me to flee,
But the inevitability of this final meeting prevents me.
Looking upon me as though an irritating diversion from its languid stupor.
A shell of my former self turned wretched by the agonies of life's misfortune.
This reflection, does it, does it.........lie?
How can that be me? This soulless, evil thing.
Vile hideousness, even a mother would destroy,
Borne of a past, littered with the remains of victims and perpetrators,
Refuse scattered along the highway of an unsavory life.
And yet, tis truth I see, wavering before me in this warped looking glass,
Wretched self loathing pounds at the shreds of my being,
As I recognize myself for what I have become.
Grotesque in form and feature, soulless, pitiless,
possessed of a demented mind, in which others
appear deranged, not quite human, unrecognizable.
Inciting fear and outrage in my tortured, senseless brain.
Refuge from this madness is all I seek
Relief from the visage of myself unveiled.
At last, with a final stroke, the voices silenced
Solace for a mind now gone.
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
the management
at Hello Poetry
need to be mindful
of grand larceny
those who involve themselves
with this impropriety
would be scooted off
other writing sites
very promptly
theft is theft
and stealing
is a federal crime
they the perpetrators
bear a shingle
of low down slime
taking other's
copyrighted pieces
always their appalling
paradigm
yet these persons
aren't bought to book
they have a free rein
in employing the purloining hook
plagiarists so bereft
of a writing capacity
nicking your works and mine
with reprehensible audacity
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC
I've seen...
Many an egg dropped by the proverbial hen
then egg becomes number through paper and pen
then greed facilitates the perpetrators of this
with ample incentive to young girls a kiss.
Then kiss unexpectedly leads to ***********
and the greedy ******* end with a non-legit son
many of the girlies will attempt abortion
but a few will not do as the ******* tell them.
So the son soon and swiftly becomes an anomaly
while it's elder brother says to daddy "are you proud of me"
the oxbridge acceptance letter filled him up with glee
but the dad knows secretly it's all to do with money.
So the half witted son takes up the mantle of the father
as senility and guilt have finally gripped the latter
the son through drugs and experimentation is madder
his social status dictates,
he'll always climb the ladder.
A few years pass, we're in different situation
the son of senility has got grip o' the nation
shaking wretched and archaic crumbling foundations,
he's shaking the **** all over his poorer realtion.
But the overgrown man-child doesn't know,
that since he took power his brother sits in the cold,
that with all the food he eats, he chews it real slow,
so he can have food for longer, fill that hole.
But does it make it all right at once,
cuz he claims ignorance
or should the people at the top
be people from the bottom,
the ones who looked up,
but got nothing but trod on.
It's impossible to relate,
when you all dissipate,
when your middle class darling,
has a working class date.
So the ******* child doesn't vote,
through bedroom tax lost his home,
Senile son? Victory of note
fake promises in the matriarchal dome.
Apathy strikes again,
this shit's impossible to defend,
how can we justify not getting off our *****
not doing something about all this in the masses?
oh yeah, that's right
although barely know the people at the top,
We've all seen their soles as they've trod on our lots
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC