Long Psychopath Poems
Long Psychopath Poems. Below are the most popular long Psychopath by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psychopath poems by poem length and keyword.
It appears to be inevitable,
That conflict is renewed.
Where passions outweigh the passive,
Becoming arrogant and rude.
When the diplomats are silent,
With nothing more to say.
Our youth take up the battle,
Trained in the warrior's way.
Regardless of any victory, the
Soldier pays a steep cost.
As many return bitter and broken,
As if their souls have been lost.
They often are treated as a drain,
In an enormous, rehabilitation bath.
Since they couldn't be retrained as
Pure killers, to become a psychopath.
With time, some may heal,
And even appear whole.
Yet many others are left with a burden,
To perpetually carry the human toll.
People who see you down and laugh,
suffering pain they feel they’ve had
smile at the misery you now have,
display traits of a psychopath
People who look down on you
will not hide it’s what they do
compare without a reason too
know it all while you’ve no clue
People who will make excuses
come and go as one chooses
live a lie because they’re useless
learn nothing forever clueless
People who are self absorbed
believe they live to be adored
though in truth they are ignored
time with them will leave you bored
People who were born attractive
suffer those they interact with
insults fly from bitter lips
lips that then say get a grip
People who see you their rival
compete obsessively as if it’s vital
with a darkness in their eyeball
hurting you they feel delightful
There are few who care for you
those respecting things you do
don’t just take but give back too
so rare so golden and so few
People who obsess are less
want to prove they are the best
all you get from them is stress
keep them around become depressed
Once a week while school’s in session…to make one day ‘cooking free’
Deborah makes a meal which we deliver to Ali and her family…
With this week’s meal my grandpa senses were on full alert
for accompanying the meal…Deborah made cupcakes for dessert.
Deborah’s cupcakes not to be eaten by me turns me into a psychopath…
and immediately brings to the forefront…grandpa’s cupcake math.
I am not a mathematician…just a 69 year old man….
but here’s the way I did the math…follow…if you can.
Ali has three children home…so far the math was easy for me…
since Deborah made 12 cupcakes…each person would get three.
But she asked me to try one…to make sure they tasted good….
being a kind and giving grandpa…of course I said I would.
Well the cupcake wasn’t just delicious…it tasted like a little bit of heaven…
the only problem being….that left the cupcakes number at eleven.
Then again I hadn’t tasted the cupcake when frosted…which I had to do…but then
after eating two of the twelve cupcakes…that left only ten.
Ten cupcakes can’t be divided by four people evenly….(although, admittedly, my math’s not great)….so I ate two more cupcakes…taking their number down to eight.
This way they’ll each get two cupcakes when the dividing of cupcakes is done…
but do they really need two cupcakes each…when all they really need…is one.
So I ate another two cupcakes…then I ate two more…
and when the crumbs had settled…they left Ali’s family with four.
But four cupcakes seemed like such a small amount…
I didn’t want their feelings to be hurt…
So I ate the last four cupcakes….
after all…
Deborah made them an entire meal…
did they really need dessert!
Dog cross my path several times
Dog bark all night when there is no fight
Dog jumping up and down the solid roof
Dog is pulling and tearing my rubber shoes
Dog is telling the truth on two feet,
And dog is listening to your heart beat
Dog is walking up and down the street
Looking for something enchanting to eat
Black dogs, brown dogs, grey dogs, white dogs
Woman dog, man dog, puppy dogs
Ten dogs following one woman dog
One woman dog leading twenty bull dog
Today is dog day so don’t go astray
Dog gather about in the lane
Dog playing game and has no shame
Dog walking up and down the street
Dog is eating curry and fry meat
Dog staring viciously at each other
Dog and dog is ready to fight
Everything looks utterly insane
Dog is in the middle of the lane
Dog is looking confident
But dog has nothing to gain
Dog is having a meeting
Dog is sending you greetings
Dog is hungry for money,
Dog is looking very worry
Dog is sulking, dog is debating
Dog cannot keep still;
Dog is looking for a will
Dog is barking very loud
when no one is around
Dog talk is dog talk
And dog bark is dog bark
Dog can smell you from a distance
When dog is hungry for money
Dog will make up a lying story,
Dog is walking around with a heavy body
And singing a cynical dog song,
Dog is wagging its tail over the land
The dog manipulator is a dangerous person
The dog manipulator is a psychopath
The dog manipulator is a coward hiding in the dark
The dog is a manipulator that preys upon vulnerable mind
And tips the balance way up into the sky
Dog will leave you confused
When it cannot find anybody else to use
The manipulator is on the run,
So you better stop him with your gun
Bad woman, bad man from school to church
The manipulator is finally disbursed.
Fallen angel.
Great manipulator.
Narcissistic psychopath.
Predominant pretense.
Merely existing.
Demon.
You have dishonest eyes.
And a sinister grin.
I didn't want to see this side of you.
Even When I saw the glass as half empty, you'd pour it out.
The walls went up to infinity.
Believe what you want, you said.
Your dark eyes.
Your grappling hands.
Your explosive anger.
Your word baiting.
Your mind s.
Your love bombing.
Enough with the grooming.
Enough with the coercing.
Enough with the twisting.
Enough with the manipulating.
Enough with the stories.
Enough with the fraud.
You could never make me drink.
I saw right through.
Eyes are windows to the soul after all.
When push became shove, I went on my own.
If you don't have integrity, what do you have?
Beyond everything, stay true to yourself.
The abyss.
The black hole.
The after dark.
The soulless.
The silver lining.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
Donald trump = pathological psychopath
Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ass,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous
Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar
flaunting, fleecing, and flipping the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle
any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay
whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)
Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger
to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged
his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!
Inspired by Episode 5, Season 1, of Killing Eve. The relationship developing between Sandra Oh's character, Eve, and the assassin, Jodie Comer's character, Villanelle, is fascinating.
You're stalking me
(And I'm hunting you)
By Michelle Morris
01/10/2024
You're stalking me
And I'm hunting you
Around and around we go
Fascinating times for two
Killer on the loose
Always leaving clues
You're a psychopath for sure
And yet you long to be understood
You know that I get you
Maybe we're more alike than not
If I try to kill you, dear
Would it make you cold or hot?
No one truly knows you
What pushes all your buttons
But I am unraveling the chaos
Your mind has become my conundrum
The trail of bodies you leave
Like a cat brings in a mouse
Reminds me that you're deadly
Of empathy, you'll never give an ounce
One day we'll come face to face
And there'll be a choice to be made
Know that I will never back down
I'm determined and I'm brave
Maybe not like you are
An assassin with no fears
But I am on a mission
And I won't give up for years
You're stalking me
And I'm hunting you
Around and around we go
Fascinating times for two
© Michelle Morris, 2024
He was a violent slasher in a movie,
there was no way for him to spook;
The murder weapon rather bougie;
A psychopath doesn’t frighten easy,
when a fear would rise he’d rebuke;
He was a violent slasher in a movie;
Devoted slave of what is high society
wielding a steel dagger that he took;
The murder weapon rather bougie;
The wifi connection was so spotty;
Unable to handle a common fluke,
he was a violent slasher in a movie;
Stealthy with the aid of technology
without it it’s hard to be a crook;
The murder weapon rather bougie;
All of this made his frail nerves crazy,
no phone no power he would puke:
He was a violent slasher in a movie,
the murder weapon rather bougie.
I learned that my daughter's old boyfriend was a drug dealer.
He was a scumbag who turned out to be a cold blooded killer.
When I learned how bad that he is, I made my daughter break up with him.
That made the punk extremely angry and that's when things became grim.
One night, he came on my property and burned my house down.
It burned and burned, it burned to the ground.
The fire fighters were able to rescue me, It was a close shave.
They tried to rescue my family but sadly, they couldn't be saved.
When the fire started, a neighbor saw that punk running away from my house,
She was both happy and proud to testify against that psychopathic louse.
Unless your family was murdered, you can't possibly understand my fury.
I was so happy to hear the word "Guilty" from the foreman of the jury.
Ever since I lost my wife and daughter, life has been a living hell.
I'm having to live in misery but at least that punk is rotting in jail.
My dreams are nightmares.
I am forced to stay awake through sleepless nights
so I won’t hear the lamentations of my ghosts.
Endless monologues with my demons.
The devil fears the darkness that perfumes my mind,
a descendant of a cannibal tribe.
I violate all human laws
that massacre my dignity.
Being a slave is not in my plans.
It’s war until the graveyard.
Indelible scars,
medals to adorn my boldness.
The suffering my body endures
turns my life into a horror film.
I hate the human species
and I have no pet to compensate.
These insatiable parasites call me a psychopath.
I dream of slitting a pedophile’s throat
before the eyes of a rapist
waiting for his hour of execution.
I am a predator,
I will never endure their persecutions.
Hatred has replaced love in my heart.
A hardened criminal, not sentimental.
Nothing romantic,
poetry is grim
like the entrails of hell.
I carry the lights of darkness,
like the chains
that gnawed at the flesh of my dehumanized ancestors
in slave plantations.
I hate misery
and the savagery of capitalism.
I am addicted to life
like a junkie hooked on his dose of crack.
I will end up in the mud
on which I urinate every day.
I will end up consumed
by these fleeting vanities.
I go off-road
on the highway of dissent,
with my neuroses
and my transgressions as rearview mirrors.
No box, no code, no rules,
I am an outlaw.
With copper-toned skin, like the shoes of American supremacists
during the transatlantic slave trade,
traces of lashes
are still visible on my face.