Long Victim Poems
Long Victim Poems. Below are the most popular long Victim by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Victim poems by poem length and keyword.
When you compare the facts with the tales of his legend,
you'll find that most stories of his life are pure fabrication.
He is known worldwide for his killer marksmanship with a gun,
but few know his reputation for helping the elderly, the poor and the young.
It's been said that he killed a man for every year of his life.
That would bring his total to about twenty one,
but nine would be a more accurate number according to historical documentation.
Although he killed, he was not at all a wanton killer outlaw.
If given a choice not to kill, that would have been his choice for sure.
He killed in self defense, he killed in an act of war,
he killed in the line of duty and then he killed once more.
He killed to escape his execution.
In all honesty,
I would have killed just like he
had I been placed in the same situations.
Billy Bonney was not at all your classic killer outlaw.
A poor victim of circumstance would accuratly describe his life more.
He experienced more violence in his short lifetime than today's war veterans.
He suffered personal loss that any one of us would find most horrifying,
yet he never lost his friendly, helpful and charming disposition.
In short, if you weren't his enemy, you couldn't help but love him.
His tragic, short and violent life had come to an end
when he was killed by the hand of a Judas who was once his friend.
He was shot in the dark without warning, he was unarmed.
An all night long candle lit vigil followed as everyone mourned.
He was already a legend back when the old west was still untamed and wild,
but legend doesn't portray the brutal harshness of the true life he had lived.
His was the tragedy of a promising young boy,
forced to become a man while still a child
and all would one day know him as Billy, the Kid.
*
Duerme Bien Querido Guillermo
*
As I’m walking home from work this evening,
I can’t help thinking someone’s watching me.
When I turn around, I begin screaming,
But my voice is cut short by what I see.
Someone’s pointing a gun right at my face
And telling me to lie down on the ground.
I never thought I’d be in such a place…
Being raped while my hands and feet are bound.
I keep thinking to myself, “Just lay still,”
But I fear that I won’t live through the night.
So, I fight back hoping I won’t be killed,
Even though I know it won’t be alright.
When the rape is over, the gun fires
And I know that it’s the end of my life.
As I die, I can hear squealing tires,
But all I can think about is my wife.
I can’t help but wonder what went so wrong
To cause that poor woman to rape a man.
Maybe she’s been a victim all along
And needs forgiveness, as part of God’s plan.
Yeah, just grab an old rusty shovel, a case of Bud Light and hop in the back of my red
pickup truck, because us country boys are heading down to Sweetwater Creek to hunt for
some rare species of dictionary. Boy, don't you worry about nothing. We got plenty of
ammo. Uncle Willie, you know them dictionaries got some powerful stuff.
Yeah, they got all kinds of words that I cain't spell or spit out my mouth. Some folks
say, you can use them fancy-polished words printed in a dictionary. You boys know better.
We can't read, write or arithmetic! Boys, we need to shake a stick, saddle up and go
rustle up some wild dictionaries. To capture a wild dictionary, you need to wear
specialized Desert Storm camouflaged gear, and be very quiet!
Boys, its time for the hunting dictionary expedition!
Now, big Willie, listen to me good, when we find this critter, I am not settling for a
handshake, because I need to bust a few caps in those hind parts with my double-pump
shotgun. Boy, be quiet. Do you hear something rattling behind them bushes? Hey, look down
yonder! Oh, Nellie, I got a big surprise for that old slick Willy dictionary.
Well, I am a Southern Boy, with a background in cannon artillery and fire weaponry. I will
deliver the final blow and knockout punch with my deluxe K-Mart special, double barrel
Winchester rifle, equipped with a high-powered scope, aiming right-between-the-eyes of
the victim.
Big Willie, You know stuff is going to fly in every direction. Now, its time to grab that
slippery dictionary right by the tail, fling it straight up in the air and shake the
cobwebs loose! Just in case, we might have to tap it with a few more rounds of buckshot
from my shotgun named big Shirley. You know, just so I can let it marinade.
Man, I am so cool, when I captured this black double-breasted Oxford dictionary, I skinned
it and cleaned it and turn it into a thesaurus.
Posted By: Gregory W Golden Dated 16 Oct 2006
An intoxicated man hit a woman's car when he decided to drive.
She didn't die when her car was struck but her son didn't survive.
She couldn't even attend her son's funeral because she was hospitalized.
She lost her only child and she's also paralyzed.
She's paralyzed from the neck down and she will never walk again.
He drove while intoxicated and two people paid for his horrible sin.
That drunk driver learned that drinking and driving is a stupid thing to do.
When he hit that woman's car, there wasn't just one victim, there were two.
When that man became intoxicated, he drove and without even thinking twice.
A stupid decision was made and because of ignorance, she's paying the price.
The drunk driver feels remorse for his mistake and as he sits in a jail cell, he sheds tears.
This story is nothing new, there are many thousands of drunk driving fatalities every year.
(This poem is fictional but it has been and will continue to be reality for many people)
Its empty now,Nothing left inside
All future plans have up and died,
Since you chose to believe a lie.
And now im left with countless
tears to dry
But all the tears cant wash the stain
Of memories of you etched within
my brain
And the crushing blow to my heart
remains
As a reminder of your inflicted pain
I want to hide alone and die
Im tired of living with this phoney
smile
Where people think im ok but all
the while,
I just want to run a million miles
Away from the memories of your
perfumed smell,
From this once happy home now
an empty shell
Where people can look at me and
never tell
How this quiet soul lives in this hell
I want to shout , i want to scream
I want to wake from this evil dream
Where im stripped naked and left
unclean
A victim of love and hate and
caught between
I cry to a deaf God, who refuses to
hear
Who turns a blind eye to all these
tears
Maybe im just a life of wasted years
Nothing to hope for, nothing to hold
dear.
Tick tock says the clock
Time to
Walk, talk,
exact
pain or gain
says the clock
Pray you don't fall prey
slack mouth lacks
Wanting no seizing
From season to season
No reason for ridicule
A reason for a silence
Resilience, shame
Tamed fame, no frame
Fascinating
Pain; Playing victim
All time while
medicine to heal
Ease on you
Gain; Territory expands
Gratitude and love
Yield bountifulness
Walk; In others
Others walk
So in you
Clothes covers scars
Lay your bed
So you lay on it
Talk; To others
Others talk
So to you
Respect is
To be
Reciprocated
Prey; Begging for attention
To be valuable
Discriminating
Unaware of self
Uniqueness
Slacking; Unused brain
Speaking
clones
laziness
Instead
Observing
Flapping
flutter's you
Lacking; Self confidence
Discipline
Brings denials
Attaining
Acquiring
Restricted
Wanting; Instant gratification
Losing focus
Settling for anything
Granted desires
Seizing; Always consistent
Taking without
Reciprocating
Updated version
Of snatcher
Swiftly
snitches get stitches
Season; goes around
Comes around giving
What you gave
Relentlessly
Unapologetic-ally
Reason; for living
Decision to make
Consequences
You see clear
Before
Action
Reaction
Ridicule; Bulling the bull
Ought
Take by horn
A worthwhile
Ride
Love don't cracks
Ego does
Pride
Sacrifice
Power
Silence; smooth in action
Fast
soundless in nature
Powerful
Creation
Liberation
Hesitation
Resilience; Attitude say all
Gratitude
Gateway
Misfortune
Gave
Up
Shame; Indifference
passableness
Gain
Pains
Mindset matters
Time reviews
Tamed; trained
easier to control
Master no craft
Slave to others
self motivations
Survival mood
Fame; Without integrity
notability
Important
Dishonest
Division
Seekers
Frame; Physically portraying
Building
Lies
Manipulating
Minds
CLONES
Do as I say
actions matters
Fascinating; Alluring contents
Preys are so lovely
Be aware
Devourer
Insatiable
Bird eats ants
Ants eats birds
Live or die
Talk to inspire
Walk to heal
Says the clock.
For What You Cry!
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
Poor me, poor me!
You never had dirt under your nails.
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
Poor me, poor me!
You would rather split a child in two.
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
Poor me, poor me!
You so independent but can't pay bail.
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
Poor me, poor me!
Speaking of love, hands out, demand you.
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
Poor me, poor me!
You left, then leave, a victim of your own blaming,
shaming,
gaming,
complaining.
For what you cry, for what you cry!?
You're killing us.
You won't listen and you lie.
"They will be paid back with harm
for the harm they have done.
Their idea of pleasure is to carouse
in broad daylight.
They are blots and blemishes,
revelling in their pleasures while they feast with you.
With eyes full of adultery,
they never stop sinning;
they seduce the unstable;
they are experts in greed – an accursed brood!
They have left the straight way
and wandered off to follow the way
of Balaam son of Bezer,
who loved the wages of wickedness.
But he was rebuked for his wrongdoing
by a donkey –
an animal without
speech –
who spoke with a human voice and restrained
the prophet’s madness."
2 Peter 2:13-16
Honor and glory be to God.
by Martin Braun
6/13/2020
“I think the lemonade was poisoned, Sir,
he’s been murdered!” Watkins said
“I can see no other reasoning
for why the victim is lying here, dead.”
“Let’s not jump to hasty conclusions,”
Detective Inspector Bones, replied
“There’s protocol we have to follow
before we establish how he died.”
“So get on with it, my young Watkins
you know what you have to do.”
Watkins nodded, then put on his gloves
And went off, in search of a clue
The Inspector, a man revered by his peers
For his keen, analytical mind
Bent down, to examine the body
To see what evidence he could find
There were no obvious signs of trauma
No lumps, or bumps on the head
No bullet hole, knife wound, marks on the neck,
Nothing to say why the man was dead
“You can take him now,” the Inspector called
To the men, suited up, from the lab,
“Perhaps we’ll learn more from the Coroner,
once he gets him on his slab.”
Watkins returned, “I can’t find anything, Sir,
it seems our victim was here all alone
there’s no sign to say he had a visitor,
or intruder within his home.”
“Everything’s locked from the inside,”
He continued, a frown on his face
“If someone was here, they’ve been clever,
getting out without leaving a trace.”
The Inspector picked up the lemonade glass
Its smell gave him a vital clue,
“You’re right Watkins, the man was murdered
and I say the murderer, was YOU!”
“While I was here, examining the body
it gave you the opportune time,
to go around the house without hindrance
and remove all trace of your crime.”
“But you can’t put one over on this old dog,
I’ve seen it all in my day,”
He turned to the uniforms, by the door
“This is our killer boys – take him away!”
© Janette Fisher 06.04.10
This was written as a homework assignment for my writing group from last night - we were
given 'I think the lemonade was poisoned' and this is what I came up with.
You know them when you see them... or rather... you know them when you feel their presence arrive. You will almost always sense one before you see it. And if you do happen upon lady luck in a good mood on that night...
Seize the chance! BUT!dontmovetoquicklynortooloudly,
The phenomenon that you would create would attract their gaze before they even gripped the doorknob. Now this isnt to say you will be their victim on this, or any other night, theres always some greater fool. Some fool who can not pierce beyond the veil of darkness they wait in. Always remember; easy prey is easy prey, especially when the target is meaningless. And a harbinger that arrives alone rarely leaves empty handed. So if you are one of the ones lucky, or maybe, unlucky ones. Who hasnt met one yet, ill leave you with this. A friend of mine saw one once, close enough to feel its gaze, but he ran. And that night he told me the message the harbinger carried...
"THISISPRIVATEPROPERTYANDIFYOUDONTLEAVERIGHTNOWIMCALLINGTHECOPS"
Before you condemn me, hear my side,
Don't be too quick to judge, before you decide.
I'm not a criminal, I'm not a thief,
Don't make me suffer for someone else's misbelief.
Prove me guilty before you judge me,
Don't make me a victim of society's decree.
I am not a scapegoat, I am not a prey,
Don't punish me for something someone else did and they got away.
I have a voice, I have a right,
To defend myself with all my might.
Don't assume the worst, don't presume,
Let's make the truth our only room.
I am innocent until proven guilty,
Don't let your biases make me a filly.
I deserve justice, I deserve respect,
Don't let your prejudice make me feel like a reject.
So, I plead with you, please listen to me,
Give me a chance, and you will see,
That I'm not what you assume, not what you hear,
Prove me guilty before you judge me, don't let your fear.