There is a minority force out there
one of evil and intent
disguised by enchantment and empathy,
within surging tides of coercion
steers one’s ever defiling poetry
of the predator,
those that crave to share one’s shadow
and constantly demand on return
a challenge to please one.
with words created in a
cynical brief of heartlessness from
gardens of perversity, cultivated
in domains of lies, untruth,
when a trigger-happy progression of rapidness
perfumed in eloquent penetration
aimed at one’s very soul.
word every stanza to tug at the recipient
being delivered in poetry humaneness,
inflicting the aroma of fragrance to entice gullibility
before the enforcement to the nurtured
of a mature kind,
and the eventual trial of tempting innuendoes.
here one reaches the pivot of reaction
the highway crossroads of decision,
a last chance to tread the right road
some will, some will not
those to fall into another’s perverted obscenity
to be ensnared, then scarred for life!
© Harry J Horsman 2013