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Alyanne Cooper Jun 2014
Rough tactile callouses.
Jointed mischief collaborators.
Twisted knuckly punishers.
Wrinkled hills and valleys.
Capability embodied.
Sensuality expressed.
Love experienced.
Life recorded.
Dancing Phalanges.
Don't Exist Aug 2014
The Real Battle Starts
Right After all the surviving troops leave
when only soulless bodies of Earth
Remains

In a horrific state of purgatory
who are now suffering the consequences
for their sins

The Mushrooms and Bacteria
judge these bodies
As they decomposed the remains
testing the quality of life

The Crows are the punishers
picking at the remains like a wild carcass in Africa
tearing limb from limb
supporting their own families

And those bodies that had decomposed peacefully
left for the awakening

The darkness pass
The sins are dissolve
but once again chaos is caused

But it is ascertain
that those Bacteria and Crows
and Purgatory
is waiting.
A simple poem
Kim Essary Oct 2020
The hurt and sadness coming from your voice is ripping at my heart like a jagged knife ripping through flesh
You are mine to protect and nurture and that box made of steel that you are caged in remains my every nightmare as I sleep and my weakness in my thoughts while I’m awake
A young man with eyes that glisten and a beautiful face of an angel, the heart that’s pure and giving
Yet you made some wrong choices but not deserving to be slammed behind bars in a cold cell and treated like a beast of rage
My expression of fury at my fingertips for if I was evil as they, surely I would cast every sinful spell across their beings and make them feel your pain
**** those that pass yet judgement yet hold no crown of thorns upon their head
For He that cast the first stone let him stand in judgement free of sin
For the Laws of this wicked world all turned to the evils of bribery and political gain as there is no longer a man that sits to hold true to the laws that are written for of the greater the judge feels as though he himself can unwrite and interfere with the laws of our God and pick which laws and sentence for the same crime yet treat them different
Stand with your armor as it isn’t seen my son for is the coming of our dear Lord and savior to be the punishers And the  Judge of the wickedness that per-trays to call themself some part of Law and Order as Our God is so much Greater as they will soon see.
There is no rightful judicial system left remaining in this world
Jas Apr 2017
Welcome to the city of bridges, shellfish and pearls!
Culture surrounds
the Tree of lives and smiles
Tortured souls foraging for a taste of
Perky life in the abandoned jail -
An aesthetic image on a postcard that cut my hand.

My spirit of childhood, the feeling of desperation
Soils the ink of perfection -
If man can create paradise
My sins are forgotten and I am a witness, I have made it;
I am in Charleston.

Welcome to the home of dissension and limitation
Where people like me have yet to be set free
Though brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers marry on the field of ancestry
Where the punishers and gapers intrude on the homes of ghosts, tasteful photography
Take your shoes off before you step through the glamour
Welcome to Charleston!
Inspired by Marcus Amaker
Melissa Rose Oct 2017
Court is now in session
With gavel in hand
We are the Jury
And justice we demand

No you cannot plead your case
We’ve heard it all before
We find you guilty on all accounts
and sentence you once more

Your life hangs in the balance
What punishment will you receive?
We the judges;  the all mighty
Won’t offer you reprieve

We are far from perfect
But won’t ever let you know
Why we turn a blind eye
To the persecution we bestow

Judgment is a reflection
of the punishers’ history
and the condemnation
appointed by their own jury

It is all so wry
And plain to see
We the Jury are the punished
And these prisoners will never set you free
10/13/17  -Reflecting upon how we (society) judges, have been judged ourselves and how the cycle still continues.
FDTA Dec 2020
**** Four a day and they're not on the hit list

They say with open arms but closed palms
Maybe a donation, but with ----------------------------------------------------------
We don't talk about the hate anymore
It doesn’t impress the press.


‘’We are on your side with the wealth of a nation…''

Disappointment is just that  



Vacuous.

Like enemy soldiers wearing your uniform,
Offering to load your rifle.

Profiteer pioneers,
Our Pilate and punishers.
Convenience buys our lenience.
But the paints run thin
rusted , chipped off.
We see you sweating and steaming.

Be or don’t, but the fog must go, it’s down our throats

In our face

Around our eyes.

It makes all the young cry so why?


Democracy is made a mockery when honesty is hollow as is the sorrow.

Do not follow leaders who pull you by the lead.

— The End —