"victimless" poems
I'm addicted
Something I can't cure
Simple and pure
To touch and watch it melt
Mmmmmm
How so good that felt
Warm, pleasing on my lips
In little strips it drips
Under the wrapping, so strapping
****
Its a victimless crime
In my prime, it feels sublime
In my mouth, moving all around
Tastes so good, need to lie down
Creamy center, nothing so delightful
Its beautiful, insightful
Mmmmmm
Delicious, begging for more
Just need another score
Addicted to the taste
Can't let it go to waste
I'm Addicted
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
She saw people praying and using the violence in
the name of religion at the same time, while no
religion is preaching violence. She understood that
this kind of violence was too conflictual for peace, and
yet too diplomatic for war. And that violence no
solution had; nor never none. She thought those
people lived in black light having blind eyes not seeing
the reality of life. She had to accept that this wicked
goodness and this pretty badness belong to our reality
so vixen-like, vexing and hiding so many victimless crimes.
Suddenly, she realized that she could be a new victim.
She started to run while wondering where her safe place was.
She was better than to expect to be caught. She understood
her fear, that fear leading to frightening thoughts, those thoughts
leading to panic, that panic leading to derealization. She looked
around trying to recognize the place. She felt worry because she
couldn't see very well. She searched to make a sword of everything
around, but quickly after that, she thought that the swords are the
weapons of warriors, but she's not a warrior, she's a victim. She
started to give praise with idle tears, to give praise with wisdom,
to give praise with deep despair. She asked herself if God is there to
hear her, over those ravages of war overwhelmed by the natural
catastrophes and over the ludicrous effect of their transformation
into nothing. She, firstly, believed her religious man was a fighter
against enemies of God to conclude that he was an enemy of the real
fighters for God. This man was her husband learning in time to beat her
body and to hurt her soul. She saw herself as a little bleeding part of this
world wondering to know if her man is still the man she fell in love with
once, or he's an illusion. She stopped her run to sit on the ground. She
began to pray hoping that God is there to hear her and to bring a new light
to her crying reality. She stayed there to think how much a rose can
describe a flower, how much a flower can describe a woman, and how
much the feminine can describe many things around .She concluded
that no feminine thing can break this life down. She asked herself,
''What can happen to this world in the absolute absence of feminine?''
She found herself an innocent person dreaming at a new world without violence.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
I’m so sorry for this;
I’ve done you wrong so many a time,
Finally babe, it's my victimless crime.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
Need to apologize,
Realize I’m mad and bound for decay,
Need to tell you; the fleeting light of the day.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
I’ve lied, through these, my guilt,
Kneel here repenting, hugging your hips.
Start to break down, what was sobriety dips.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
I’ve done it all again;
You’re already aware of my past,
Your fears they will continued, here I relapse.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
I’m back to it, the past.
These scars and old wounds fester again;
I’m back in the dirt, like a dog in his chains.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
You’re forced to know this now;
I fought, and I fight, it’s gotten bad.
I broke, then killed a man, giving all I had.
Oh Darling, Oh Darling,
There was that look again!
You my rock, my only salvation;
Gone, apartment empty, at the bus station...
Oh Darling, you’re no longer mine!
I cry into a mirror, cursing my name;
Sorrow turns to anger, these fists to blame.
A crash, broken mirror, a home inflamed...
Oh Darling gone, Oh Darling gone,
I can only apologize with my life,
A true sacrifice to never enshrine...
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
OK. Today may be dull. It happens. Sure.
But tomorrow remains rife with possibilities.
Podcasts of Trump on on the value of modesty.
Street fights in several extinct languages.
Hillary wins at Detroit poetry slam.
Jihadists explode poodles in crosswalks.
Island countries wave & grin as they sink.
***** flicks found starring Merkel and Putin.
A sane, reasonable presidential election.
Angry cats with opposable thumbs rebel.
Men & women speaking & understanding each other.
Brock Turner announces *** change operation.
God announces: No More Mulligans!
Gender wars conclude. Everyone’s dead.
Debut of lost Bach Partita for Electric Kazoo.
New, hip-hop production of Treblinka: The Musical.
Shakespeare cloned. Buys poetry anthology. Dies.
End-up, instead of start-up, launches in Palo Alto.
Smart phones install apps with annoying ads on users.
Common sense becomes common again.
Victimless rhymes decriminalized.
This is America! Never two dull days.
Take Heart! Tomorrow, there be Wonders…
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
We exist among twilight shadows
Never in the light of day
Pardon me,
Fast I pray
I run red lights at every turn
Screaming down the coastline
Desperate to avoid anything,
Ok, maybe everything
Time and time again
I won't feel pain
Speak your lies in tongues
Against my parted lips
I'll sip raindrops
From the hollow of your neck
For once I'll give,
You can take
Time is nothing in the hues of the night
Always at night….
Lover I’ll leave you in the light
Tell me you love me,
I may believe it this time
Be my victimless crime
© 2014 Peach
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
>My lover and I make a crime scene every night. But every night, we walk away with more blood on our hands. Not victimless, but witnessless.
_tell me what this carnal discourse is. tell me i can wash it off. tell me i can forget._
>But no, the world murmurs back to me, no, you get to bathe in it. And then, just when you feel anew, you will open your eyes to a lake of lost lovers.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
Today we kings and queens. We rock this town, bringin the truth, vibes, and spirit around...
Plant the seed of green we all should love, and bring heaven down from above...
We know the truth, yet so many still choose to belive. Bringing misjudgment to this victimless seed...
Being led by propaganda caused by petroleum monopoly. killing the world, being complete greedy...
****** madness. Complete ******** served at a time it was easy to belive, because our people were so nieve...
Sad to know what our leaders have done. But we Kings and Queens, and the war is won...
Now we need to make it so it can't be undone. Save mother earth, so our future wont judge us for what we've done...
-Big D
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
silk sheets burst into flames
blood drops of a victimless crime
devour me with your ruby gaze
pray on me one last time.
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
Anxiously Awaiting Atomic Assimilation:
Still not happy.
What is it about being pinned down that causes our hearts to rush
Or the pulse to harden?
I can hardly listen to music anymore: It all sounds like you.
My brain says give up and stay home
My heart says go out and love!
Give it all away! Take them all for granted! Let them use you!
Would it hurt? Not anymore. Not after us.
Random but justifiable meltdowns occurring every day sometime past noon. Every single day.
Your picture still on my windowsill
You in that dress
Our hands melted together
Our arms behind each others' backs
The smiling.
All the holding and kissing we did on the boat.
The propeller spun the water through my head
And out your mouth into my eyes
From there into your thighs
Out your ears and under your bed
From the time we wake up until we're dead
Bolted shut. The door is locked.
Every time I leave, I lock it again.
Robbery is a victimless crime when you don't care about your worthless crap.
Take me. Take it all from me.
Be an angel and sin with me.
She never will again.
Not as long as her picture exists.
She will never leave my head.
Just as long as that picture persists
Or the Pinback track continually insists
I just sit back and cry and open my wrists.
I can't cry. I can't laugh for any real reason unless a hookah is near, AND SPEAKING OF WHICH:
I want to be with you again, man. You left me at the same time she did.
Add insult to injury. Degrade my emotions. "She outranks you. It doesn't matter what you are feeling. Only what she is feeling."
Those words echo like a ton of bricks
Thrown against a canyon
Or a gunshot cracking on a silent, frosty night
The city glows, but not the way I like it.
Not the way you described.
THE WAY I DESCRIBED.
Don't you ******* tell me I ruined it for you.
It was already ruined! I just spelled it out for you!
Have you no eyes?!
Can you not see your impact?
You witch. You monster! You ghoul! You sorceress!
Succubus!
Seraph!
Get out of my head! Leave me to rot!
Let my tears dry! Let my head clear!
Fog from my eyes will dissipate!
But only if you GO AWAY.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 11:31 AM UTC
If love is tied to the stars, and to fate,
to what seems to be just a fleeting dream-
Perhaps star crossed or maybe all is lost,
Will we know before the end of the scene?
Are there hints? If so, what do they mean?
What exactly, do all of these signs foretell?
Is there a theme amongst the clues, between
Half-hearted attempts at wishing well?
But on these things, we do not dwell-
Passions play should be a victimless crime.
No heaven, nor hell, nor friar, nor spell,
Could part us before our appointed time!
Can we live, with the world as our rhyme,
And as poets, play our songs to the part?
Would you be mine if I could divine
the secret melodies that lay in your heart?
So this I swear, before God, in this state-
To love you, as if this were our final scene.
And then forevermore, our love will endure
As an endless dream within our dreams.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
Muscles strain with the effort, each one
fit to burst from this skin in protest of the
things I do for you.
When I saw you falling by I couldn’t
help but to throw out my arm for you
to grab. I will anchor you to safety.
Sometimes I think that this act,
rescuing you, is all I know.
A toast!
To those buildings from our lives
which at times meant so much,
and how we saw them torn down.
To those people, who we loved and
hated and ignored and couldn’t be
away from, and to how we stood
by to see them torn apart.
A toast to the rips and tears.
When I’m not around, and this dark world
looms like death about your aspect,
how do you go on?
Do you have a bevy of pretenders,
waiting in the wings to assume the mantle
of hero for you, at your beck and call?
I think not.
No, the state that I always find you in.
Teetering on oblivion. Breathing in your
own acrid impending ruin.
A toast!
To the victimless crimes that always
find themselves a victim.
To the altruist with ulterior motives.
To the new car with seven hundred miles on it.
A toast to the rut I find you in.
How could I do anything other than rebuild you?
I sit and cobble you from the heart break
you discovered on your path to forget or forgo.
With delicate hands and loose calculations
I will rend you into a form that resembles
yourself, and when I am done I will
walk away.
You have never once thanked me.
A toast!
To the victimless victim of
self inflicted crime.
To those torn down and made whole
again.
To buildings wrecked and replaced.
To the occasional altruist with
understandable ulterior motives.
May 28, 2011
May 28, 2011 at 6:27 PM UTC
I steal pieces of your
character like a teenager
steals music from the Internet.
A victimless crime. "Just
trying it out, I'll buy it,
if I like it." Sliding it
into my ears and straight
into my brain. I turn the
idiosyncrasies that belong to
you and you alone, into joint
property whether you want to
or not.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 9:18 AM UTC
Drowning in verbosity
Lost in time
For I cannot express
In prose or rhyme
The beauty that enlivens
Kindred by chance
A victim by choice
or circumstance?
A victimless crime?
A passionate flare
Unexpected rawness
Enter, enter if you dare
Challenges accepted
Without hesitation
Jump into darkness
Accede consummation
Oh my pretty, pretty one
Whatever have we done
With hell deep in your eyes
The claiming has begun
Every calculation
And each strategic move
An action for an action
Every step it does behoove
How easily the game is played
When lines are drawn in black
Maneuvering each bitty piece
Not giving any slack
Training like a solider
Satisfying every need
Holding on to nothing
The past promised to impede
Eating demons in the flesh
A Knight in rusted armor
Feeding darkness innocence
Inherently a charmer
There you are so handsome
Seemingly sweet and kind
Hidden far behind those eyes
Lives a ***** evil mind
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
Your name is Filbert.
I'd rather use you as Fill.
Fill, gods may have put you here
for a victimless chatter,
but I'll bring you up
with the nonsense charge to meet
false expectations. I know
we don't see heart-to-heart, that
parting shouldn't stop us
from connecting the pesky
dots of our pupils. Let's learn
to be adult about this
uncontrolled glowing.
Your flighted fancies
can't leave the tarmac
without making one feel bold,
another frightened,
and everyone is a skosh
confused in the end.
I hope it doesn't bound
too negative. I meant well.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 2:51 PM UTC
One year since I met him.
Six months since I saw him.
Three since I've spoken to him.
And finally I'm done.
Like polar bears lumbering
Over sand dunes I'm dried up.
I can't believe that he was a man
For whom I thought I could have
Written epics for.
I need new inspiration.
When your muse is fickle
As leaves on deciduous trees
One must find a new source
For the Mississippi.
I will take up crime, start small.
Jaywalking!
And write a limerick about the
Thrill of it.
I'll dance with more than one
Man in a night let them touch
But not keep. They cannot
Breach this beach it's mine.
I don't invite strangers into my
Bed, I take none of them home,
but somehow they're all a poem.
I don't want to be a writer
With pages of ex-lovers in
Her notebooks scrawled
Out in ink, like blood,
Like tears from a flood.
Cause I will pour out all
My words, my language is
Love, on the pages balled
Up in waste baskets hidden.
My heart beats to a rhythm
Too irregular a meter
For most to keep up.
I get it.
A muse is old news.
I can write it better
Than some hipster sweater
Wearing, never texting first,
Fall in and out of love headfirst
Kinda man.
But oh man, I'd love a man
With whom I would write
Perpetual sonnets.
Fill volumes with devotion
Not about one night but all
The nights that we fall asleep
Together knowing that tomorrow
Is another day I get to write about him.
And though nothing will be new
There will be something beautiful
About when the whiskey on his breath
Meets the coffee on mine.
We all have our vices,
The idea of love is mine.
Each kiss would taste like rhyme
A thief he'd steal my heart
A victimless crime.
Till then I will take new roads
Through yellow wood and
Envy the song of the nightingale,
Because I too know why the
Caged bird sings.
It rests in my chest, flutters,
And gets excited by others
Touch and false promises.
I promise this: I will wait love
But idle shall my pen never be.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Why not be blamed
For something I did not do?
A crime is not a crime
Unless it has been committed
But this my friends,
It was an accident,
And I am afraid I did not do it
Why not be blamed
For a victimless crime
When it happened right before my eyes
We take the time and time again
And it starts to get real
The happenings begin
Why not be a motherless child
In a world that makes that okay
I am a victim of a crime
A crime that can't be faked
Why not leave
Mother dearest
When I need you most
To work my way through this
I'm starting to hear voices in my head
Help me, mother,
I just want this to end
I am not crazy
The voices haven't pushed me over the edge
Find me, mother
Even though I know you're dead
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 12:33 AM UTC
All of this shouting, but who's to really claim
When we walk around so faceless with nothing to gain
It's just a system to extrapolate your fears
Designed to be destructive, disgusting, and to jeer
Quiet as we sit, appearing only to view
Questioning nothing, we're erupting into something new
It's a victimless society, for we have all chosen consent
As we cry to the TV for what's true, we pray and repent
Blinded by the odds we ebb and bob like a float in water
But the bed is dry, there's nothing to deny, enjoy this job
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 10:13 AM UTC
Suspend the moon from golden anchors
Hide your notes on doing time
Halos tarnish in secret places
Ain't no such thing as a victimless crime
Concrete held me like a lover
Tucked me into a metal bed
And I could fill the oceans in my heart
With all the hatred that I've bled
I gave the rage too much control
Forgot all about the cold hard facts
Like "boy once you squeeze the trigger..."
"You can't get the bullets back"
Some say "hell you should have killed em"
I guess that depends on who you ask
One thing I'm certain of these days
The answer ain't hiding in a whiskey flask
Spent a lot of time thinking things over
Ran to the edge of suicide and back
I ran the gamut of emotions
I went from blue to carbon black
But I found out just who I'd been hating
I saw my reflection and he was looking back
So I came home a bit too much to look at
teardrop tattoo underneath my eye
Skull and crossbones on my neck
With the words "Hell raiser till I die"
But this single story don't define me
This doesn't tell you who I am
A Minister who's got a background
Don't think for a minute that I'm "less than"
Let's see if I've anything to offer
They say it never hurts to try
Anyone who's ever known me
Knows I can't just lay down and die
I wonder how long it's gonna take
Will time go slow or will it go fast
How far must I go into the future
Before I outrun my past
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
the loss was a slow ache
creeping in like ice fog
after the time for mourning
should have been tolled
a gravedigger clearing dirt
grain by grain
was this heart-
stalling on the burn
proclaimed problem-free to public ears-
cleared like dust
from a smooth pane of promises
lifted like prints
from the scene of a
victimless crime
now the key loses
its lock
trapping that moment,
forever
in this web of
practicality
that we signed.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
I hate you for this.
The way your warmth has crawled out beneath an evasive watch
Escaping without proof.
I knew there was a reason for your lies
The ones that curled beneath fingertips and mistaken smiles.
Is that what you wanted?
A moment of utmost clarity.
Because it exists now
Instead of you.
I get it
That darkness bound you to a corner
A victim of victimless lovers.
Are you happy?
Because I am here sitting on half a roll of toilet paper.
This is life I have been told.
Don't you get it now?
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
SHEET MUSIC
“I know not how music notes are to be read”…
“True music is learned, not taught”, she said…
“But for the silent sheet music unspoken in bed,
“Lyrical lips whisper outside of one’s head”…
Shotgun sips, cream soda lips
Cocked back hips with back arching grips…
With xylophone ribs’ comes music sampled.
Trials and tribs’, stomped on and trampled,
Feedback, reverb, limitless distortion
Acoustic ****** brown eyed contortion
Almost criminal, partners in crime,
Come on arrest kids lovestoned with time
“I know not how music notes are to be read”…
“True music is learned, not taught”, she said…
“But for the silent sheet music unspoken in bed,
“Lyrical lips whisper outside of one’s head”…
A boy was born with a heart made of wood.
Hope for love ablaze seemed almost too good.
The alphabet spilled out for him to see,
He wordlessly loved her from A to Z.
Bonnie and Clyde became mister and misses.
Both of them heart thieves, stolen moments and kisses.
Two partners went about forgetting hard time.
They were helpless but to love— a victimless crime.
With xylophone ribs, came music sampled.
Trials and tribs’, were stomped on and trampled.
The once silent sheet music, played out now instead,
While lyrical lips whispered outside of his head.
But he knew not how music notes were to be read.
“True music is heard, not learned”, she said.
Her lips played over him, two searing wicks.
His soul she lifted, mere pickup sticks.
Poetic love is the sweetest of rhyme
If but for only once upon a time…
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
inside of my mind
where no one else goes
darkened and shady
brilliantly posed
flowers run wild
while fears plant their seeds
i quietly sit
spaced out and relieved
empty voices speak
notes too high to hear
other times louder
than a scream to the ear
windows glow yellow
the moon sometimes too
mostly alone, unless i think of you
i’m walking down roads
alone and afraid
an empty hand
a shovel-less *****
toxic is the blood
that feeds off my thoughts
memories and wishes
destroyed and distraught
a kiss far too much
an embrace miles away
waking and sleeping
night turns to day
victimless mind
how quickly you fall
under the spell
cast by the call
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC