"violator" poems
There is dirt mixed with blood
Underneath our fingernails
Our life is mixed with mud
While we fight and flail
The struggle is for my agency
Otherwise I feel they're ****** me
I feel they are replacing me
With an imposition of their will
Love as vast as the sea
Wouldn't get them their fill
Their emotions they ****
For a ****** thrill
That could be achieved by a pill
But instead they use power
For they understand in this hour
There is a mentality
Of fatality
Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires
So we can build with our allies oppressive empires
Until the whole world is on fire
And these rapists can do as they please
When it's systemic they do it with ease
In a world without trust
They are the beneficiaries
They care only for lust
With actions incendiary
Burning the forest they hide in
Where our secrets provide their shade
Because overwhelming suspicion pervades
The image of all strangers
We see only danger
And our judgement is skewed
When everybody is considered a ******
Yet there are only a few
There is a moment
When I make a ****** decision
I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be
There are two negative extremes to this situation:
1. I will **** them
2. They will falsely accuse me of ****
Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust
Between those extremes
But when our definition of ****
Starts to define the victim's comfort
As more important than the violator's intent
We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias
Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone
And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty
People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it
But bachelors must consider these things
**** victims must too
As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims
One has been illegally *****
The other has been ***** legally
I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards
Yet there are only a few
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
You violate me with your delicious tenture,
licking my soul with your words,
making my skin tingle with the anticipation of your thoughts,
******* me with your mind,
twisted obscurity in an ******** delight,
the cardinal remnants left trickling down my legs
breathing obscenities in a heterophonic haze
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Intruder. Intrusion. In my personal space.
Violater. Violation. What you took, I cannot replace.
Material. Materialistic. But that that's not the point.
My thoughts. My feeling. Have been shattered open.
Intruder. Violater. You didn't just steal.
You took something from me more valuable.
Than diamonds and rubies and all the queens gold.
Intruder. Violater. You don't know what you hold.
Intruder. Violater. You've taken my purge.
Letters and answers and maps to my worth.
Intruder. Violator. You've taken from me.
Memories of where I was, who I am and I am how I came to be.
You've taken my heartache, my sadness and pain
But also the joy and happiness from life I have gained.
Intruder. Violater. Maybe something to sell.
You took my whole world and spun me around.
Material. Materialistic. Harmless. Maybe to you.
I'm shattered and heartbroken and there's nothing I can do.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 3:51 AM UTC
The Umbilical cord is cut upon .... first breath.
Separating us from mother;
Pushing us to thrive in a manner outside...
Maternal internal cannibalistic vampirism.
Circumcised upon ****** classification.
Separating us from father;
Peeling away the skin,
Exposing the core of the apple.
Hair is pruned.
Separating us from the psyche;
Leaving us in the dark,
Like a shadow without a heart.
Held up by our foot.
Strung like a pretzel;
Smacked by the tune of historical blood,
Claiming degrees of separation.
We deny...
We are
(Mother and Father...
God and Devil....
Creator, Perpetrator,
Anti-Violator and Master Manipulator.)
Adam, Eve, Snake and Apple.
--Marie Moldovan ©️ 2020
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 1:00 AM UTC
Your calm behavior
This kiss has its own flavor
Love leave sectile cuts like a razor
He should of been labeled with a disclaimer
Warning me of his true identity
A heartbreaker
Wishing I had a mind eraser
A memory drainer
But I'll let you be the stimulator like before
I am just a partaker and a violator
Because my final words with him were last December
But forgetting you will leave me with displeasure
You give me so much love
No one can measure
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Tears running down my face,
my worst fear
has come to life.
Terrified...
Shaking...
Too many thoughts...
Please...
Help me...
I don't want to face him;
my Violator,
my Terrorizer,
my own personal Nightmare.
Please...
Don't make me go...
I don't want to..
Wake me up...
I can't go up.
I can't.
Don't want to.
Don't make me.
I'm like a little girl;
I am a little girl.
Please don't make me.
*Please...
I can't breathe...
Wake me up...*
Please
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Gunshots pierce the silence of the yawning night,
In the subterranean abyss of the subway
A young life ebbs into the filth strewn sewer,
It is a girl, fair and beautiful with black locks,
Her violator pockets the still smoking weapon and zips up,
He spits, looks over his shoulder and lights a cigarette,
He inhales deeply and in his nostrils he can taste her sweet perfume,
The memory orchestrates a smile
Which once again compels him to look down at her still warm body,
Upon her dress and glistening legs the blood is beginning to congeal,
Her eyes are sightless but they mirror his image in the dead sockets,
He takes another lungful of her succulent youth
And then slithers and melts into the anonymous jaws of the city,
His ***** are still encrusted with hunger
And the night is yet young and tender,
His teeth glint by the light of the neon signs.
©Rangzeb Hussain
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 4:15 PM UTC
Your body is a canvas,
but the tongue of a blade should never be your brush,
blood should never be your palette
and bitter tears should never sting your skin.
Your body is a canvas,
touched by the brush of a petal,
painted by the tints of rosy joy and yellow sun,
your eyes should reflect the starry night
and the silver of a moonlit sky.
Your body is an altar,
it should never be desecrated by skeptics,
it should never be sculpted with bruises
and stained by the possession of manipulating demons.
Your body is an altar,
celebrated by passion fueled prayers,
adorned with ornaments of kisses,
and cleansed by candid disciples.
You are priceless and worth every struggle,
so don't let anyone deceive you in an opinion
based solely on their contorted perception
of untruthful quantification of our current
media,
because you are a sculpture in the Louvre
and a masterpiece is not worth the touch
of a violator.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
I search for the arms
of strangers,
of friends,
of my family.
People pass by me
and their eyes drop
to my arms
before they meet
my face again.
They found a woman's body
hands, feet and face
burned. Naked
tossed into the woods.
Her killer
still unidentified.
They asked for tips.
She struggled
they said,
her violator may have been wounded.
Scratches and bruises may still be visible
on the forearms of her attacker.
So I find myself
staring down
at the pale arms
of men,
of the unkempt elderly man at Honey Farms,
of the teenage gas attendant who never quite
meets my eyes,
but also
at the father of my daughter's afternoon playdate,
the teenage sons of my neighbors
and at an evening barbecue, my own father,
questioning against doubt
what they are capable of.
And when I am alone,
even though I know,
in the mornings
I look down
at my own arms
unmarked.
And still, I check
twice.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
And so what am I supposed to do
when I return to this mess
To this overturned chair
******** cover
This disgusting room tarnished by your wrath
Well I just turn over the pillow
to hide the tears and mascara stains
I just toss it over the other side is fresh
ready and waiting
But it smells foul like
**** you please leave this house
Crafty manipulator that you are
You think everything has submitted
to your unspoken whim
Hiding weakness and sensitivity
It's plain for me to see
I know it seems like I know what I think
But I don't know what I think about you
Violator
You are a grotesque farce of a man
I take a shower so the water silences
and washes away my tears
So you don't even have to know
And I turn right-ways the chair you threw
So you don't even have to remember what you've done by tomorrow
But I will not go sit with you now
and watch TV
acting as though this never happened
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Don't know what to say
It's all upto my dismay
Of being reckless and a sinner
Forgive me! I'm not what I say
I'm a disobeyer, Forgive me!
Do all that and forget
The sayings I forget
Don't know what it is
The prayers I forget
I'm a violator, Forgive me!
Don't want any of that
Why do I do all that
The end only chooses good
when I know all that
I'm on the wrong, Forgive me!
No one can save me
Only can God see me
In Him I believe
And He is the key
I'm a sinner, Forgive me!
The things I know
Isn't it enough to bow
What happens to them
That's the truth, I know
I'm not human
Again if I disobey
Even when I know
The few rules I must obey
I seek repentance
Forgive me!
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
I gave you a nickname and I called you boo
It was cute until that very day that you hit
Me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,”
I cried
To myself
“This is the way it’s supposed to be.”
It was hard to see the light that day
I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
I no longer pick up your phone calls at two am
You sob and plead and beg me back
I disagree and do not crack
Here we are, once again
You show up at my door
And swear in vain
I slam the door
And your heart breaks
I don’t mind
For you hurt me
I wish for you to no longer plea
As I will press charges against thee
You come back
I stand away
You hold a rusty pipe found by the corner coming up the staircase
You strike me right in the face
You continue to beat me
With no remorse
I force
My way elsewhere from you maniac
You flee
I curl up in the closet near the pile of your ***** old shirts
I should’ve burned a long time ago
My neighbors find me
Soaked in dried, scarlet red, blood
They know no English
And scream in Spanish
“¡Juan, llama a la policía! Tenemos que ayudar a Missy a salir del armario.”
I feel her large body swish around paper towels and wet them with tap water
She returns back with aspirin and everything she could to
Help me?
“No no no no no NO. Quédate quieto, no retrocedes. La ambulancia estará aqui pronto.”
Frustration occurs.
You return
Couple weeks later,
See me in pain
I call you insane
You are documented
Not only am I fermented
But my wish came true
For you are an official abuser and violator.
For when I see my last true light
I will always finish this fight.
So I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
Next time bud,
Stick to the script.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
rat-a-tat-tat, the metal annihilator
taught our ears its foreign tongue,
in the hands of violator
takka takka's sung
sowing death and violation
hungry for the mutilation
of a child, of a nation,
brat-a-tat spells termination
it was the third primordial sinning,
first was greed, then came envy,
as long as greed 'n envy's winning,
third is sure to make his entry
bloodshed with green mama, jealousy,
goaded by lust, spouse, father, king,
as one, begetters with their progeny,
takka takka sing
altogether, takka takka takka,
baby, child, mamma 'n pappa,
in the name of Phi Theta Kappa
takka takka sing
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 11:57 AM UTC