Long Perpetrator Poems
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He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease
A daring young man on the flying Trapeze
His movements were graceful, all girls he could please
And my love he purloined away
The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze by George Leybourne
THREE RING CIRCUS
The clown wouldn’t smile, not for a million dollars or a cent.
Those lips, though painted on, were stuck like cement.
Lips curved down to his chin, someone’s jealous of him.
The upstart performer used permanent marker, broad not slim.
Then the perpetrator named both the clown’s cheeks.
And the tears that ran down were not eye socket leaks.
“This is not funny!” he said as his horn bellowed a laugh.
“Stop clowning around behind my back! I’ll write your epitaph…”
The trapeze artist yelled down below, “You’ll have to catch
Me first!” “Why you…” yelled the clown. The net, he’d snatch
And the ladder too, then he’d shake the snake out of his tree.
Poor clown, the magician had it in for him too. You see
She had a trick up her sleeve. She had constructed a plan
To move the frown up the pole and let down her man.
She let down her man so hard, he left a hole in her heart.
Now she’s clowning around with her new trapeze counterpart.
11/30/2021
the angel had a surreal glow that astounded me
I felt star-struck; was she my guardian angel?
She or he? It was impossible to tell which.
The angel’s voice gave me no clue either.
Androgynous angel, so I shall call her A.A.
I wanted to speak of the violence.
But I did not want to alarm her.
There are many good people here.
I did not want her to get the wrong impression.
I told her about the school shootings in the USA.
She listened, without comment.
I told her about New Zealand. They had a school shooting once.
They did not publicize the name of the perpetrator.
They did not give him notoriety or fame of any sort.
There was no spread in any magazine about him or his family.
No one raised money for his defense in a go-fund-me account.
Why doesn’t the USA do that? She asked me.
We are crazy here, I told her.
We have a convicted felon as our president.
A man who said he wanted to be a dictator and now he is one.
Our laws say even the criminally insane can purchase guns.
the NRA rules us in the USA
The angel was speechless
The heart aches as
a fire rages inside!
Tucked away
under unseen embers
for decades
a secret
smoldering there.
Children whose minds
not yet fully bloomed
who have not yet pondered
I’d be this or I’d be that
must now deal with
confused emotions and
a struggle to recover.
A manifestation of guilt
when they’re reminded of holy water
used to wash their mouths
as they whisper
“Forgive me ‘Father’
for I have sinned
it is one week since my
last confession”
And the irony is…
For a lifetime they exist
shrouded under layers of deceit
closed mouthed as unsung lyrics
remain stored away in silence
while the wrong secretly
changes the course of their journey
to an alternate existence.
Adult smiles
grace their faces
amongst many others
hiding unforgivable secrets
as though guarding
a secret pot of gold.
No one guess the facade
or see beyond false
laughter dressed as humor
as a place for secrets
to lay uncovered
hiding broken auras
masked
in pain and shame.
For a lifetime
they cling to hurt
never seeking release of
shame
it accompanies them
till the last handful
of dirt follows
their farewell song.
Their life’s journey forever marred.
But run tell that!
Chorus the “ME TOO” chant
shine light on the offender
to remove the shadows
of agony
taking up residency within.
Do not bear the burden
keeping hidden dark secrets
well guarded in memory vaults
suppressed deep inside.
While the perpetrator walks free
to steal yet another’s innocence
over and over again
hiding in plain sight
Under The Black Robe.
This must STOP!
Free up the tongue
set it loose
to expose the sinful acts
of the Divine Perverts
who committed them.
Heal your pain while
saving others from the same.
Run tell that story!
“In situations of captivity the perpetrator becomes the most powerful person in the life of the victim, and the psychology of the victim is shaped by the actions and beliefs of the perpetrator.”
? Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror
Egotists are an enemy to an empathetic butterfly.
When your life functions like a cognitive chrysalis,
narcissistic spiders silently creep and crawl,
sucking at the sanity of your fractured cocoon,
wrapping their beastly venomous black legs,
around a trapped heart, weaving their conceited web.
This mutating sanctuary is a double edged sword.
Even when the door to your cage is open,
idle wings remain motionless - reluctant to fly.
When the pupal mind is frozen at a larval stage,
caught between the confusion of love and hate,
conscience speculates over being a victim or a villain.
Thoughts linger in constant conflict with subdued soul,
torturing the heart, so incarcerated wings remain stagnant.
Afraid of avian predators - too anxious to escape their tormentor,
you become a willing martyr, sympathising with the abuser.
The pain may be palpable, but their atrocities are forgiven,
so you remain stranded from their manipulative deceit.
Forming an emotional bond in a savage cycle.
Hear their voices heed their cries
behind closed doors their terror lies
he left the stage and the public talk
but when home its principles mock
Day to day they live in fear
he's such a good man his children dear
but in truth he's Jeckel and Hyde
for acid are his inners and sugar outside
They dream as children for a fathers hug
but in private their back to the rug
the pain and conflict have left their mark
for current is hopeless and the future dark
He said they'd not believe you true
and thought a liar you would be
should you expose him and what he do
and what he started at age of three
The place where they were broken
should have been a safety zone
where the tenets of love are spoken
but empty of practice home
Rocks hidden in the rivers
but turbulence not rare
just beneath its surface
with the children drowning there
If you require another witness
get the children that exam
the dna would damn them
publicly remove that harmful man
Why do you whip the victim
and let the culprit free
the results from the doctor
would condemn him publicly
No shepherd of the flock is good
if he not protects the sheep
by oath you are bound to "truth"
and the commands your owner keep
The perpetrator by God convicted
but the shepherd who does not
pursue the "truth" will be exposed
his negligence will be caught
John 10:1-18
Matthew 7:15-23
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
'Someone!' said I, 'I’m in need of a ONE;
I crave the female human, a happy almost anyone;
Back into my memories of dating;
I am shorn of images of marriage my mating;
With such a passion for abrogating??
The wedding, a wedding 40 years married now widowed;
As of someone gently retreading, retreading bellowed, bellowed;
With such a passion for dreading;
With such a passion for heading;
That engaging the singleness despair, exhausting, exhausting
Life and death the perpetrator of here and not here, 'Don't go raging!'
Heart yet racing, mind is engaging;
Where when my heart and mind meet a special “SomeONE”
4/25/19
no doubt sympathetic poured in exceeding a ton
sans the reverberations from the supposed terroristic act doth stun
although neither a native bostonian son nor one who opts to run
my track record racks up with any manner of pun
yet only tears for deadly explosions
and incalculable loss of limb it less life barring none
when cataclysmic dynamic explosions occurred around 3:00 p.m. on mon
day april 15th, 2013
with inexplicable psychic
piercing pain punctured as with countless gun
near bunker hill where american revolution
bred battles for freedom bought
brandished weapons
from colonial americans feverish cry for independence caught
with blood, sweat and tears of lexington and concord fought
with nada one justifiable reason and now motive sought
but...when perpetrator identified justice will be taught
adhering the state motto
"By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty"
for religious or those of secular beliefs
whose lives rent asunder with grievous heartbreak wrought
despite the race, religion or creed
of those mortally hurt and/or killed, i feel such heinous deed
only the mindset of a live googly eyed yahoo doth feed
with relish the innocent lives forever he/she now gloating with glee
as a miser with greed
at what august athletes (suffering les miserable’s) lack any wherewithal to heed
for who could foresee where a twisted mind or two would lead
ambitious disciplined bodies would so suddenly need
triage with others on the sidelines to plead
for desperate intervention with utmost speed
heard by ordinary folk now cast as heroes
bursting forth like a hardy weed.
Urgent Tea Party
Mrs. Jet sent out the invitations in a fever and a heat
Envelops sealed with royal wax and stamps she licked herself
The tea would be at Meadow Marsh Retreat two weeks from now
Appropriate attire is required for all attending this event
Pleated blouse and sleeves for women, tux and tie for men
“No extraneous unknown entities will be permitted
No other friends, family, dogs, or fish will be let in”
Attendees are sworn to secrecy
It must be something serious! It must be something dire!
Mrs. Jet intimated in her letter with some guile
In her subtle way by way of content details; “Oolong Da-Hong Pao and Dragon
Well Bud Tea will be prepared”, she wrote
These teas are only served in emergencies, as we all know
This must be something grandiose indeed
Two weeks later to the minute
Mrs. Jet and company sat under the ulmus trees at Meadow Marsh
Sipping the lovely teas when she stood up to make remarks
Welcome one and all to this Urgent Meeting on this urgent matter.
My credit score is perfect every time
I’m about to lose my mind
3 weeks ago my credit report was due
It was released but to who?
Perhaps they forgot to mail it
I fear it must be lost or stolen
The perpetrator of this malfeasance must be jailed
The TV says my credit score is needed
It must be repeated daily
Mrs. Jet set out to make this point
Without a credit report and score, what’s the use of going on?
Many of the honored guests were equally offended and annoyed
Some gasped. Some even fainted.
Who would take your credit score?!
One man interjected as he roared
This means war!
because we arrested a suspect
he must be guilty.
the complainant said that there was no perpetrator,
that’s what the report said
in clean boxes
and stamped ink certainty.
no room for hesitation there—
no trembling human maybe,
no “we might be wrong”
no blood on the margins of procedure.
just a name turned into a case number
and a number turned into guilt,
like the typewriter never learned doubt
and never wanted to.
wanting, no needing a conviction this opportunity
may not come again,
causing harm to the complainant never mattered,
like perfume on a locked cell door.
and everyone nods
because it’s easier that way
than looking too long
at the wrong face in the mirror of authority.
because after the report was written
the truth never mattered.
and truth is just another signature
at the bottom of a form
nobody reads twice,
not even the ones who wrote it,
not even the ones
who have to live then die inside of it.
and the defendant given only two weeks
to prepare for trial,
the state attorney introducing an empty paper bag
that caught the attention of the jury,
without ever being opened.
while telling the jurors that the burden of proof
fall's on the defendant to prove
that he is innocent of those heinous charges.
Time after time, the thief struck,
but I could never report a loss.
Tangibles were not taken.
I knew the identity of the perpetrator
but couldn't ask for ordinary justice.
This was no ordinary criminal.
This deceiver led me down
paths of promise to find fulfillment . . .
for the flesh was weak.
Each time, I paid a fee,
a degree of my self-respect,
joy, and peace of mind.
How could the sincere youth
who invited Jesus into her heart
at age 14 be acting so--lost?
Internal thieves are the hardest to defeat.
Only God could help me.
I prayed--truly believing.
Over time, He banished the deceiver,
my desire for what He's forbidden,
and nurtured the better part of me.
Sins, though forgiven, have consequences.
He left a reminder,
a scar in my memory,
to keep me from ever again
becoming what I once was.
Date: March 25, 2019
Contest Title: Strength Thru Adversity
Sponsor: Gregory R. Barden
Placed third in Lu Loo's Beautiful Scars contest in November 2015
May 28, 2019, entered in Anthony Slausin's Truth Poetry Contest
April 6, 2021, entered in Brian Strand's All Yours (April 7) contest
January 4, 2023
Revealing Your Soul and Other Tension Poetry Contest Placed 2nd
Sponsor: Sotto Poet