Long Molest Poems
Long Molest Poems. Below are the most popular long Molest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Molest poems by poem length and keyword.
DARKNESS BRINGS NO PEACE
Here I lie, a stream of tears descending like a waterfall.
A recollection of my youth.
Impending bellows. A mother hunting down the next victim to be tortured.
Stamping feet crushing each heart beat.
Creaking stairs recording each journey that have been taken,
slowly as not to awaken the sober home.
Shutters echo with the wind; a young child’s flesh hit, scarred deep within.
Her blood frozen with affliction.
Cries, screams through the abyss of an aged window.
The dancing robe draped on the door, sways in a rhythmic waltz.
A giant, a man, my father.
Walking with massive strides, anxious to emerge.
To plunge on a child’s innocence and ignorance of not knowing.
(DARKNESS BRINGS NO PEACE)
The crisp blankets beneath me.
Undisturbed, waiting. When will he plunder me of my untainted body?
Each bleak move I make, sends chills of anxiety through my flesh.
(DARKNESS BRINGS NO PEACE)
Will I return, return to a life as I have never known life before.?
Here in the darkness, pain splitting my heart,
like an earthquake destroying each cell of life.
Am I like a piece of meat, waiting to be chosen by the next
violent hand, to molest my soul?
To chop away at every molecule and destroy my shape?
I am a woman, a mother, a lover to my love.
I am human and I am a survivor
I am like a piece of play-dough, molded to make
one self-content to fulfill their fantasies.
I can be put back to my original shape.
I am a survivor and I will win.
Or have I already?
Cowering in the shadow of fear,
you count every sorrow, tear by tear.
And surrender to life's ugly side,
unwittingly letting evil slide.
Bullets rip through the fabric of lies
while somewhere, somehow, somebody dies.
For drugs and guns, paint the hood in blood:
stains of youth, lying dead in the mud.
With the curtains drawn completely tight,
the streets are left to the ghosts of Night.
And doors get locked; deadbolts in place,
while pride vanishes: without a trace.
Needles and condoms litter the park,
where addicts and whores stake out the dark.
And children live under house arrest:
hidden from monsters, out to molest.
Shooting a gun's a juvenile thrill,
unafraid of the law; youngsters kill.
And death runs rampant in the City,
where life's cheap and devoid of pity.
She stares at me still mindless
of my wantings, handrubs,
errant fingers traipsing through
calico fur.
Again, his mindless looks and
and endless nothingness pours
from its mouth, but seems my
stupid purring soothes this
mindless beast.
Ah, she's purring, a sign of
wanting, at last, I see an
opportunity to fondle her.
Not again! His outstretched
hurtful hands that molest
me so, I must flee to the
safety of yon couch wanting
for touch.
No, no, no...ouch!
Ah! I knew these retractables
came handy, need to lick
off his stench from my coat
and do the circle dance, to
soften the sofa just a tad.
No you don't!
He stands, whilst I arches,
for 'tis a fight to the finish.
Paws don't fail me now.
(He stops, sits--paws down
...Calico and sofa are one.)
Date: 06/13/2019
When I was teenboy, nothing else mattered
Than making out in the back of a Chevy
With a gorgeous young hottie with boobs to die for
Breathing became rather heavy
Now I'll try to behave coz the censors are watching
And your computers will probably short circuit
With the powers vested in me, I'll try to behave
But it'll be quite a challenge I'll admit
All my many friends I have here on the Soup
Are aware of my penchant for the naughty stuff
After all what's life about but to wiggle and jiggle
While parading around town in the buff
So far the censors haven't any reason to complain
I've been relatively prim and proper
But I sure can't keep this up indefinitely though
I'll blow a gasket as I get all hot and bothered
Eventually though, I catch hold of myself
Since a teenboy, I've actually learned self-control
Can now walk down the street without molesting girls
And the drooling I've controlled on the whole
So in closing I'll say this, my very good friends
There should be a law that allows us guys
The freedom to molest hot voluptuous young fillies
And make out in the back of a Chevy as a prize
© Jack Ellison 2016
God must be sleeping now as the dog dreams
He mumbles help me as he is thrown into the ring
As he is bitten his tears of hope cry
I was happy to run and my mothers paws
God must be sleeping now as the addict waits for her trick
She opens the car door and wonders where did I turn
Her Father drank and beat her Mother
I was happy kicking cans and hiding and seeking
God must be sleeping now as the mother stands the line
Waiting her chance to speak and get the dole
Her children screaming and no food or goodies
I was happy playing with dolls and doctor was my downfall
Allah must be sleeping as the Taliban beat the solo women
She cries for pity as the men strike her with the club
She wears the burqa and prays for America
I was happy playing in the fields with my brother
God must be sleeping as the old woman has her pocketbook snatched
Her social security money gone as the food she will eat
Sitting on the ground thinking and praying and no answer
She was happier even when her husband lay dying and alone
God must be sleeping as the Earth quakes and tsunami
The wave crashes over the homes of the unsuspecting
The wife being torn from her husbands arms never seen again
To death came to part and the happiness too
God slept on the seventh day as he was tired
The people constantly praying for his wonders
His world in ruins as mankind molest his children
He was happier when he walked the gardens of Eden
You know who
the sycophantic murderer of 51589
majority been Innocent God fearing people.
Their souls will testify
keeping him in the hell fire FOREVER.
Only did his mother know
what evil he’d become,
she would have summon God
to stop his evil birth.
Greed has no moral,
just a carnivorous cannibal
scheming to manipulation human intelligence.
Blood fascinates his egoistic insecurities
he molest the living and the dead.
Take away the butchers knife
he becomes a belligerent vampire.
Human corps excites and motivate this maniac.
His pastime is watching
hawks picking the bones of his Kill.
Sick son-of- (you fill it in as I don’t use those word.)
A pathetic psycho killer.
This is scriptures.
Al Juman the said poet © 9/30/2024
How to recognise a sheep - let me tell you, dear
The rules are simple, so take note of what I tell you here.
You can rule out any creature that has fingers, fur, or wings
Amongst its decorations, for sheep don't have these things
Neither will you see it with a scarf on, or a hat
Unless you see it eating one - a sheep just might do that.
But you don't see them on bicycles, and rarely on a train
They will not use umbrellas, not even in the rain
They are not messy like a pig, or grumpy like a goat
They do not delve in politics, though many of them vote.
A sheep's by nature placid, it will never get annoyed
Its brain is strained by nothing - it will contemplate the void,
But mind and body wander, it is prone to go astray
And it runs in one direction which is, typically, away.
If you see it climbing high, or swinging in the trees
These are not the sort of things that sheep can do with ease
Typically, your average sheep can normally be found
Standing with four little hooves placed firmly on the ground.
If he's standing in a field, on four legs and on grass
If he does not look that he'll molest you if you pass
If he's looking woolly, in body and in mind
With a woolly face in front, and woolly tail behind
If he looks around with the tranquillity of sleep
That will be a sheep, my dear,
That will be a sheep!
If I pass through Gethsemane
to writhe in cold, dark agony,
if Fear's hounds track me through the night
till like a wounded fawn in fright
I thrash through forests, strange, unknown,
that seem so far away from home,
would love in me grow weak and die?
would stones of hatred be piled high
to mark the plot, engraved by Shame,
"It was here that love at last was slain!"
Would my heart lie entombed, content,
or would the stones by Love be rent,
and Love o'er Hate triumphant pour
because the sting of death Christ bore?
Or if my love were crucified,
rejected, left to bleed and die,
if Sorrow pierced my fainting heart
with every bitter, burning dart,
I pray that love would stand the test;
that while my soul Grief did molest,
I would not stoop to hate the foe,
but yield to pain that Love might flow.
Would Love in me refuse to die
and live again though crucified?
Oh, that the seed felled by Hate's cry
through suffering would multiply
and rise to reap the greater store
because my Love your sorrows bore.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
Its paradise..For those that choose it.'
Eternal seperation for those that loose it.
For the ( predator class! ) maybe they live
With you.? Types Like pope leo epstein mandleson, gates, wexner, andrew, all drew
The shortest straw..Blinded by riches and
Power galore' now the sick-o-phants, who
Once called them elites..Press frantically
On the button delete.' Yet God keeps all the
Tears in a jar.' Of those who were tortured.'
He tells me Ja.! You have read my writes
On the pred-o-viles.' And what did we hear
Epstien advise his (friends erstwhile?) To
molest an innocent girl child.'
Dress as Yeshua..! Now reader you might
Understand.? Gods voice and judge-ment
Are close at hand.!!!!!!!!!
A woman's boyfriend told her something that pissed her.
He told her that her six year old son molested his sister.
It wasn't true but she believed that stupid guy.
And because of it, that poor boy would die.
They thought that he molested his sister who was only three.
When he came home from school, they beat him violently.
After brutally beating him, they panicked and tried to revive him.
But they were unsuccessful because the beating was so grim.
When they couldn't revive him, they took him to the ER.
They were found guilty of murder and they're behind bars.
It was ridiculous to believe that a six year old boy would molest a three year old girl.
Those animals didn't even get life in prison, that proves there's no justice in the world.
(Sadly, this is a true story.)