Best Rapes Poems
~I wore your skin~
Brother, I wore your skin last night
Nothing but friction, blood -dry ink
Announcing a crush "Silence by the Sky!"
Integrity denied, endangered enemy
Brother, I wore your skin last night, swollen ankles
imagery galore, vomit on the lavatory floor
A clown bleeding red, feeding lies to those he rapes
Blades of need, captain catamite chasing a pup
Who can't resist the heat, when fenced
Brother, I wore your skin last night,
White, green and tight, devouring the light
Mitten wool on your bottom draw
Lipstick waiting to kiss immediate sin
In search of keeping things close to kin
Brother I wore and tore your skin right off
Gross in every demonic way,
Acrobats all over the home
Docile immunity, lurking with a bomb threat
Sister, I wore your skin last night
Vanity of nothingness nutted blasphemy
Evil lurking, wanting to undress thee
Comparing notes, breaking bad company
Sister, I wore your skin last night, swollen lips
scumbag hag, with nowhere to go
Immortal lies weaken by love
Revealing nothing more than her true self
A wraith with no heart, no goal
Sister, I wore your skin last night
Repeating, bleeding, nail biting
Greasy and powerful, needy and greedy
Aching and whining for not placing
Her head lower than shame holding a high
Sister I wore and swore to never put on your skin again
The nasty feeling, of pretending loyalty, is passion
To hate all those who don't fit your skin
A vulture preying sending encrypted messages
By: PD
They say fantasy is in the wind
But I can see it everywhere
We’re all chasing empty beauty
And that’s before the bubble’s pop
Reality is just complex delusion
Too successful to taste freedom
Thinking we’ve lived and loved
Because that’s what we are told
But what if it was just control
The only truth was in my dreams
Nothing real or what it seems
Imagination dies.. children cry
While the wall is being built
Locking us in, can’t feel the wind
Love locked out.. fear begins
We don’t give it a second thought
Distracted until we go blind
Entertained to the slaughter
Like our parents before us
And we think we had a nice life
They called it real, it was fantasy
Pure love danced right past us
In the wind and in our dreams
It was never the fantasy
Freedom was and will forever be
Inside the mind what you can’t see
While they fight to keep control
The only truth is in my dreams
Nothing real or what it seems
Imagination dies.. children cry
While the wall is being built
Locking us in, can’t feel the wind
Love locked out.. fear begins
Still, passion rides the wind
Dreams are my reality
And if somehow this isn’t...
Never wake me up!
~Lyric Man
Note: A rainy, melancholy day set the mood to pen this “R & B tune” that talks about the farce.. so many call life. Imagination is chased out of children until childlike wonder is extinct. The blind lead the blind into empty lives while love rides on the wind of forgotten dreams. Fantasy in many respects was the true reality, but we are conditioned to miss it. From our youth, society builds walls to “protect” us, but in truth they in-prison us. We lose our awe of senses, including self awareness. Our lives get diluted into septic pits we are conditioned into thinking is normal. An we are being entertained to distract us from the approaching slaughter. Society rapes our innocence, robs our freedom, and hides us from daring love. And the mindless masses sleep walk to their grave. For most people, by the time they are 40.. their most “real” moments are in their dreams. And on this rainy day of dreaming my only fear is waking up and being like the real world!
Ragged thoughts marching like stoned centipedes.
To the slag heap of the lost.
Intertwined with eternity's brine.
Waiting to reunite with meaning.
A lightning strike- mind o fire.
Insomnia rapes the dream.
Splay the centipedes across the page.
Like autumn leaves o'er vampire graves
or twitching feet in a gyrus maze.
The destiny of brilliant beams
is the outback of the furthest ... reach...
Sadistic magicians pulling diamonds
back into centipedes.
s/he who will get locked away,
fried in the chair, lethally injected,
gassed, hung or shot by a firing squad,
resides right in your home town,
right in your neighborhood,
right round the corner &
without the ability to feel guilt
when s/he lies, cheats, steals, rapes,
beats or kills someone,
s/he’s considered to be a major threat
to the stability of
“western civilization.”
and yet, it is said that
most “normal” people don’t make good killers &
that those who join the military have to undergo
such “training” (brainwashing + drugs)
in order to be able to do it efficiently
without the side-effects that would come
with doing it as a civilian &
still, it is said that many soldiers aim high
or do their best not to kill,
especially if in hand to hand or
close combat,
unless they are pushed to extreme limits.
the irony is that those that our tax dollars
send all across the world to stomp on others in the name of our great
empire
(our great policeman of the world),
are those least likely to do what they are being paid to do,
while those that threaten us on a daily basis
here at home,
silently & secretly,
are the kinds of individuals who can win wars.
we humans celebrate the sociopaths
when they kill in our name
when we’re on the side of the winners &
history will be forged in such a way
as to show that what said sociopath leader did
was indeed great,
that in our time of need,
s/he killed without conscience,
s/he killed indiscriminately &
had s/he not been doing it to “them,”
s/he might have been doing it to
us.
Before the blast in April's darkened sky. . .
before the electrifying surge of insurgency -
when trucks and tanks were used to block the roads, and
when men and even boys were sought to aid in one malicious purpose. . .
before the rampant slaughter -
the raining of machetes down on flesh and bones
and the cornucopia of corpses left like butchered carcasses
on highways, nearby houses and in churches. . .
before the plundering, the rapes and mutilations
and the exodus of thousands to death-infested camps,
there were whisperings -
insidious and portentous to the ears of the wisely suspicious -
and a voice on the airwaves spewing hate.
Before it all,
there was a brewing of resentment
of a people with a history of poverty and
of transitory freedom and capricious politics.
And through it all, with such grave consternation,
governments debated. . . waited. . . . . . . and waited,
playing with semantics
while thousands dead became the hundred thousand,
and three long months - unrivaled for its number of atrocities -
came to its completion.
Seemingly, peace has been restored
and punishment stingily doled out.
Time moves on . . .
except for half a million
for whom compassion by the world
was spared.
They are refugees in their own country.....
No land for them to go. No body care them either
They are known as refugees in their own country
War brought uncertainty in their lives
and made them to live in refugee camps forever
They travel long distance along the road
with their hand cart of chattels
while their tears rolling over their eyes
Parents are thinking about their children's future
and children hate to see their parents suffering
Many years have been gone and nothing has been done
The war is still going on without any improvement
Because of our careless and adamant leadership
the innocent people are still living in refugee camp
They are victims of diseases, accidents, violence, poverty
kidnaps, rapes and cruelties towards humanity
Let us join together and save these innocent people
from the hands of uncivilized people on earth.
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
All rights are reserved 2014
And we are left here
Like maggots—dirty, parentless…devastated
Always feeding on the gruel…the cruel
Fattening our lives in the moneyless bilk
Shocking like a bee sting, yet soft as silk
We are the forgotten
I am watching the others grow rotten
But I am cleansed and raw with glee
Because…though blinded with slime…I SEE…
I rise to the sound of the agonizing screams
Of rapes, murders, of violent fists…weeping minds
My definition of true finds…
I smile when any possible hope arrives
Fate laughs, knowing I constantly scream inside
I am amused of it all…I can’t stop laughing
As bitter tears began to fall
I HATE ALL OF YOU…
I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL…
But I love that I can take anything
From the nothing we have all been labeled
The sick, the low…the mentally unstable
Watch me roll up in a ball
A naughty tease to death’s lull
I love your silence…
I love your intense fall
And we are more alive than any of you
We are crazed by your belligerence
Aching to be emotionless
SHARE YOUR INDIFFERENCE
SHARE IT…
Give us something to be left with
So the others can die
As Fate veers its head looking in the mirror
Listen to her laughter—do you hear her?
She watches and waits
To find her maggots have grown wings…
Screw your selfish indifference...we fall to fly
We are more alive than any of you
Though quickly we die
a girl a child a life of 12 years
a by stander an innocent with no sense of fear
coerced, bribed, begged and beckoned
kidnapped, stolen, beaten and threatened
the thoughts now that run deep through her head
is how soon will they find me or soon will i be dead
he gags her, he ties her, he drives her to his lair of death
her heart, her soul, her mind will soon be at rest
he picks her up and puts her in a cold damp room
shes scared as she shivers and ponders her doom
he needs her so he feeds her as he keeps her alive
so he takes her and he rapes her for his sexual thrive
as daylight draws near and the sun starts to rise
all you see are dry tears that flowed from her eyes
with bruises and cuts and blood from her thighs
she was pure no more in her killers eyes
he despised and hated what she had become
unknowingly ignoring what he himself done
his anger and temper begin to arise
as he contemplates death for this young girls demise
he cuts off the cord from the lamp on the desk
he strangles and chokes her until her very last breath
then he drives her and dumps her small body to rest
the next morning they find her with a note on her neck
saying I HAVE JUST STARTED SOMEONE IS NEXT!!!!
I PRAY FOR A SIGN
Lost in the world I see no vision
Amidst my fellow men I see subdivision
Death is but a necessity and not a decision
The world is doomed, God heeds to no admission
Tears tainted on the faces of the unborn
Our world is doomed as our mothers still mourn
Crying day and night we hope for a new dawn
A better tomorrow is as good as a light at the end
of the tunnel unknown
Mother deliberately drowns her new born in hot boiling water
While a father rapes his one and only five year old daughter
The world is at end as we are bound for the slaughter
Be warned of the last days because we are
still in the last quarter
Voices of sorrow echo inside my head
My heart bleeds more, each time children are
pronounced dead
The wars we started never to end
Is this the life that of which we shall die?
Like we never cared…
Email: [email protected]
We see them sitting in towers
carved from ‘learned’ ivory,
insulated by their tenure
from the world of reality,
poisoning their students minds,
putting bad ideas in their heads,
the kind that in a century
left one hundred million souls dead.
They know they face no consequence,
they even blacklist all others,
it’s the students who pay the cost,
in the real world they all suffer
for imbibing leftist nonsense
that they learned at academy,
betrayed by malign professors,
by ‘elites’ who are not elite.
We see them strutting in Hollywood,
convinced that their fame is greatness,
they want us to watch ever film,
yet our values they dismiss.
Thinking they’re on the cutting edge,
and the we’re all just inbred proles,
they think that lying well on film
makes them the people in the know.
Yet most of them have more spouses
when most people have fingers,
all their rapes are upsetting,
the pedophilia disturbs.
Once called the city of angels,
now just a Sodom on the sea,
a mess of ruined human souls,
an ‘elite’ who are not elite.
Glance upon the creative scenes,
you’ll find many more of this kind,
like the ‘artist’ who wants thirty grand
for a spray-painted orange rind!
Or maybe the plotless writer
who calls it ‘literary fic,’
bad characters just moaning on
about how they’re damaged and sick.
Don’t forget today’s architect
with his swiss-cheese ‘masterpiece,’
it’s supposed to be a building,
nut I looks like concrete feces.
I wouldn’t take any of this
even if given out for free,
they’re making all art hideous,
these ‘elites’ who are not elite.
Then there are all of the blowhards
who make up the modern news,
thinking that you will only see
the things that they pick and choose.
When any man with internet
can see through their partisan crap,
and lord do they get all annoyed
when you call them out on that.
If they cannot win they censor
and double down on their madness,
the idea that they can’t control us
is one they cannot stomach yet.
Those fools will tell me it’s raining
while I walk down a sunny street,
it is far time we tear them down,
damned ‘elites’ who are not elite.
Things you cannot sugar coat: LIST POEM
Child abuse
Sex trafficking
Killings
Murders
Rapes
STDs
Illegal drug use
Alcoholism
Cancer
9/11/01
Automobile wrecks
House fires
Natural catastrophes
Tsunamis
Earthquakes
Volcanic ash
Bullies
Pain
Anger
Rage
Unkindness
Disrespect
Ugly dogs
Dentists
Math
Living in a world of cowardly hearts and shallow minds
Police killing innocents, Murders, rapes happen daily
Kids getting tortured and left dead in Palestine
So I really don't care about you being alone on Valentines
You being single really isn't a big issue in the world
All you have to do is text I miss you to the girl
Police killing innocent people when they're supposed keep the streets safe
Paedophiles and rapists are getting early release dates
Then they're given new ID and allowed to live next door to a school
How can you expect there to not be a next war with these rules?
In a battle with my own government nevermind another country
Give my food for thought in hope I don't find you hungry
Hating someone else cause they're a different race or religion
We're trapping each other, so how can we escape the system?
The real criminals are in suits, not behind the cells
We don't deserve world peace, if we can't find it ourselves
In a world full of hate, where love and truth is rarely given
I talk about what they're scared of admitting
I might get hated for saying this, but free Palestine
I'm sick of people crying about being single on Valentines
Photograph's can easily deceive.
Seeing her pose next to this man is make-believe.
The smile on her face is a lie,
and you can detect the misery in her eye.
This picture has so much sadness hidden from view.
You can't necessarily see the distress she's going through.
Nor can you see the marks across her chest that are black and blue.
She's fighting the same spousal abuse you watch on the six o'clock news.
In this picture you just can't see the physical pain.
But with his arms around her, you can sense the disdain.
The picture does not show fists clenched at her side.
It is the "fear" she is unable to hide.
In the picture you're unable to see emotional scars tormenting
her mind.
There's bile in the back of her throat because the guy has his
hand on her behind.
She tries to muster the courage to escape the rapes but she's
terrified.
Hard to believe this is not the once giggly bride that had her
dream wedding by the riverside.
In this picture you can't see the many addictions,
or in their house know his restrictions.
They are on the verge of eviction.
Hospital or death is her family's prediction.
No court order can stop the bloodshed.
Before this picture is developed this
once happy full-of-life girl will be dead!
The world is already lost and it will continue to get worse as time goes by.
I won't have to put up with much of the future because I'll eventually die.
But Jehovah God will have to put up with the future until the end of time.
He will have to put up with kidnappings, rapes, murders and other crimes.
Jehovah will have to endure the future as it gets worse and worse.
He will have to endure it until he decides that it's time for justice to be dispersed.
I want people to change so that the future will be a much better place to live in but many will not.
When those people are judged on Judgment Day, they'll wish that God was who they had sought.
What if this is hell
What if we are the dead
It makes sense
The murders, the rapes, the sorrow
I do believe it is a possibility,
So I am doing my best to
help others up and out
Inspiring them to follow their hearts.
Maybe the artists and the poets
are at the top level, almost ready for the giant leap
To the good place.
Maybe the murderers and the rapists
have a long way to go
I do think I am right about this.
I am sold on it, because I have been invincible.
I have expected to die three times.
Yet, here I am. Alive? I doubt it.
Maybe our souls are crying because they
are aware that we are dead
Maybe this is hell.
It makes sense to me,
And it seems fair.
Tread lightly, my friend.
We are probably not supposed to know,
So go ahead and pretend ignorance.
I am only sharing this insight with poets and artists.