Best Molests Poems
The naked night, the wailing wind;
leaves in their flight are summers end.
Betwixt occult and morning’s light
moon stands, it’s her birthright.
Ghost-nests revealed in abandoned limbs;
wind wails and peals its adieu hymns.
Birds left will feed on frozen meals;
squirrels will plead for fruity fields.
As Earth beds down for an annual sleep;
wear no frown no crawlies will creep.
Parchment colors paint the ground,
Fires for lovers will abound.
In autumn as the Vandyke leaves fall, lovers truly have a ball.
When winter’s cold molests the air, spiced rum and cocoa we’ll all share.
Under her blanket of protection,
she lies still to escape detection.
As shadows gather in the moonlight,
anxiety grows during the night.
Her heart's pounding in a rush of fear,
apprehensive that he may be near.
And she waits for the doorknob to turn,
igniting hate's indelible burn.
The door creeks open, her eyes snap shut,
and panic ties a knot in her gut.
As her panties get slowly pulled down,
tears flow, and he counters with a frown.
She is in shock, and the games begin
as fingers stroke her shivering skin.
And alone at night, he breaks her heart,
innocence dies, and trust falls apart.
A father molests his precious pearl,
numb to the pain of his little girl.
And her mother, blind to his deceit,
makes her daughter's suffering complete.
When melancholy drowns my interests,
all seem lost; when black bile's ooze then molests,
I travel through the valley of this death,
lacking life, hope—even desire for breath!
So, myself from blackness I amputate,
spurn whether to self-murder (and brave this fate?);
and lay aside despair and misery,
to fall in love once more with Poetry.
For two loves I have, God and the Muses:
one gives, the other neither refuses.
Before long, the Parnassus heals me in time;
and I grow strong before the end of this rhyme!
For mightier than despair is the Lord,
and the poet whose pen conquers the sword.
Healing
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
Could love bring them back from the brink of emotional extinction?
Give them back some of the innocence they, at onetime, knew?
When one thinks of the genocide of our First Nations People,
Think of the genocide of their spirit, those remaining souls.
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
When one thinks of the genocide of a child’s psyche, hers or his.
One has to wonder what part love plays in this destructive game
man plays as he molests, sexually abuses, emotionally, mentally,
verbally strips naked, to the very marrow, the essence of a child?
of Nations, of the first Peoples residing upon this little blue planet,
past, present and future. Will love give them a glimpse of a future?
B. J. “A ” 2
May 9th 2017
It laughed back--
Craven beast in need of feeding
Feasting--fleeting feeling...
Hungry fangs gnashed...they gnawed
Mashed and clawed...flaying flesh in a pool of cess
Washed down with milk from breast
Habitual inkling to kill things
Waiting not to mate until spring
Impetuous creature defies phylum-
defines asylum...sickening, spontaneous species
flings feces-howls at the moon
Cage can't contain, nature won't explain
this beasts absence in a chain
Contributes to no cycle-rips, maims
claims habitat at a laundry-mat
Missing link makes cousins of apes
murder, molests, rapes...
Filthy wraith bathes in hate
Made in a higher likeness
God must spite this human"itus"...
Inspired by Kristen Reynolds "March Madness"
If you fear an inappropriate tryst
In Day's, bright light will subsist
If attendance to your whims is remiss
For each foible pare one, entitled kiss
If my address too awkwardly I press
Only the passionate syllables stress
If my aimless loitering you detest
Grant each day one, solitary egress
If sanctimonious attitude does distress
Let charitable heart baser traits bless
If beaming eyes, shapely figure molests
Focus my stare on your stately crest
If my squeaky voice your nerves test
I'll drown the variation with lemon zest
If feigned loyalty, I laboriously confess
My lips with time's shadow compress
If from my wit sentient mind does desist
Only time-tested Limericks will enlist
It's after the 'landslide?' Thieves stole the election!
This traitorous scum bag's a Russian invention,
But 'Charmin' (1) for Putin (that's on a good day!)
For the dark side of Trump's just black art on display!
Who’s sure what this Russian prick knows that we don't know?
His strength, the weak worship, on knees (that's 'for damn sho!'),
So sad (though it’s clear), the worst blackguards have pride,
But Trump prostitutes children! He's vacuum inside!
There'll never be 'wall,' Trump's 'top picks' terms in prison,
Their blood fouls saint's thoughts when 'land crocodile' (2) eats them
(Reality TV's so juicy!) Although
The best part of Trump's boners, the rainbows clouds grow!
Rich folk's lives reveal to the world that they're vassals,
Suggest to some peons' life's harder in castles,
Rich thinking perhaps they meow like a cat,
But when reckoning comes: will they squeak like a rat?
Long Tooth
August 16, 2018
Poet’s Notes:
(1) For those in the know ‘Charmin’ is what ‘privileged’ folks use to wipe
their tush!
(2) In the Malaysian language, a “Land Crocodile” is the phrase used to
describe a man who molests women, i.e., a playboy! What fun!
When your father leaves you at age six,
When you first start knowing the feeling of lonely and ignored by your parents,
When all your father does is hurt you with words,
When your mother moves you miles away from her to your grandmas house, just so she could work two shifts at work,
When finally after a year you go back home but notice the difference, home don't feel like home anymore,
When four guys rape you and you cant seem to remember anything after or why they did that, just so much pain and confusion,
When you start cutting yourself because pain is the only thing you feel,
When your uncle puts a gun in your head and starts taking off your clothes,
When your uncle molests you a year later after getting raped,
When you turn into drugs to feel better and forget about your past,
When all you want to do is die,
When you get bullied all your life,
When you feel so ugly and disgusted,
When you think you found love at fifteen years of age and all he does is hurt you,
When you tried to commit suicide and almost died,
When your mother makes the hardest decision of her life and puts you in a mental hospital at fifteen years of age,
When you find out your expecting a baby inside a mental hospital,
When you finally get out the hospital and god sends you an angel,
When you slowly start forgiving all the people who once hurt you and start living,
When your son is the reason why your still alive and you do anything to survive,
That's when you will know what I went through.
Thrice a summer aphrodisia snickered in my face
Yesteryear the fog of boreal passion surfaced across my window frame
Omnifarious passions are surfacing
The insignificance of homosapiens stood the test of time
Life molests all of us, maul us, then sing us to sleep
Spiraling through dimensions decorated with brothels and strip clubs
Aging with the grains of pebble stones
Aphrodisia is a tourist
Uncover my skin with your lips,
before the midnight sun clasps' over the sky.
My body is haunted by the hypnotic touch of your soft finger tips.
My eyes dance with fiery passion,
as i begin to reveal your flesh for what is really is.
The clock seems endless,
as sand grains rush threw the bottomless hour glass,
i fall to my knees in elegant beauty.
I feel the goosebumps wrapping themselves around you,
your skin becoming clumpy and chilled.
The addicting taste of your tongue molests me,
I become a starving animal
in dying need to satisfy my hunger.
The moans,
stained with dripping remorse.
The floor,
covered with our bodies,
we are merged into one.
Your body's' blissful curves reminding me of the violet hills,
i run threw them.
I see your honesty breaking the dawn that is a rising,
and murdering the darkness that tried to corrupt the angel's singing.
~Turn Back Around~
Sad eyes looking up at us
How can we ignore them?
Walking away like they don’t mean a thing
Like the ones who already hurt them
They are crying out for someone to notice them
Love them
Take care of them
Lonely children of the world
Being walked away from
Isn’t it about time we
~Turn Back Around~
The child who had to runaway just to get away
From the beatings
The nightly visits from a stranger in their bed
The drunken rages
The Terror they were raised in
A parent who molests them
Innocence taken
Yet we don’t even hear them
As they cry out for help
It is time to
~Turn Back Around~
Give them a chance
Listen to what they have to say
A home to call their own
Safe from the abuse
Safe from the terror
A home filled with love
A place to grow
In comfort rather than fear
Off of the streets
Away from the danger
That is what they are wanting
All we have to do is
~Turn Back Around~
Quit ignoring those
Sad eyes looking up at us
Do what is right and
~Turn Back Around~
By: Jean Bonella
A lover sparks a desolate heart
To stir and flourish and glow
A lover breaks a heart for sport
Leaving a desert where no love can grow
An analyst eases an anguished mind
A priest comforts a trusting soul
A doctor heals an ailing body
Each a lauded goal
An analyst twists an anguished mind
A priest mars a trusting soul
A doctor molests an ailing body
Innocence takes a toll
SOMEWHERE...
Somewhere thoughts lonely in
Fields of desire scatter about
Like children laughing softly;
Eden be the delicious end
Somewhere tremendous strength
Rests on courage of emotion
That rises into hemispheres
Where power gently merges
Dreams and desire
Somewhere unexpressed shame
Molests me with such anguish
My womb ached while grief
Imparted anger; love cried
Tears of pain
Somewhere hand in hand we walk;
Too unbearable the end
Too deep the pain
So much—and yet
Love is easily missed
Somewhere I remain within the thoughts
Found in every withered desire;
Midnight murmuring sinister delight
Silent shadows sleep now
Don’t You Want More? I Do!
Do you think you deserve a bit more than you get
As you wait for a call from your good friends, and yet
You don't pick up the phone, give a 'hoot' who is blue?
Well, my friend, it's such Sad News - I fear that's me too!
We all pay to receive calls but most out go free!
As distinct as most lives are, (God!) 'Loved One,' it's me!
If I get that you're hungry, ('bread' shows love?) bring 'cakes!'
Can a fool 'Buy What's True?' My guess: whores are mistakes!
How I treasure the life that's flowed under the bridge
That connects us! It seems (days of Trump?) we both rig-
Idly quail at the length of its span! Did we choose
What's between us? Is history's flow, ours to lose?
Is Trump's "means to 'just' end" worth the win when the cost
Is the death of a friends' love? Does 'winning' mean 'crossed
The line first?' How does compromise sully the world
Of a mensch more than living with Truth that gets 'twirled?'
Some think poems a pleasure, to some bards' grandstand,'
But should poetry's purpose be 'fools understand?'
Might 'thought' stand on its feet a tad more than Trump tweet
Or obsequious servant of Satan? Discreet!
What Trump can't rape at home, he molests overseas.
If she's minor who cares, girls belong on their knees!
Senatorial leaders grade racists, praise curve,
If advancements your passion, it helps to be 'Perv!'
"Dehydration's disease!" Hear Trump's 'prey' (with the death
Of each immigrant's child) his wall drowns! Their last breath!
"Do the dead get a VISA? I should charge a fee.
But I think I like rape more!" that's Trump to a "T."
Long Tooth
July 24th in 2019
Innacurate mariner's spear
Molests sand, sending
reprisal's quiet return
wrath of a once in seventy
year storm
Wounds sailor in scorn
Misguided barbed harpoon
missiles silt, shore bound
Beasts swim by...
Breaching, phallic
Burrowed harpoon
breathes in between
spaces grains give
Tide brings drink
- Salty stew of recourse
- rubs sins' reveal
Altered memories
can mingle with blood's dissolved
culmination
Persuasion picks apart iron
Dagger's gradual horizontal
rusts as a Christmas tree
spruce in nasal cavity
Flavour seasons meat
for next festive season
4th August 2020
Submitted for: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Contest: Heart's Truth