Long Violator Poems
Long Violator Poems. Below are the most popular long Violator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violator poems by poem length and keyword.
Vengeance
Life. A precious gift
breathed into the body of man by God,
the Father of all creation.
Life. The perfect gift,
Taken by the hand of a sinful man.
Five bullets to the head
a mother of four dead.
Baby boy lying near her bosom
when home sweet home
became a war zone.
Motherless children
devastation is their reality.
Mother's shed blood
drapes baby’s body,
like a scarlet overcoat…
Malefactor’s sinful heart continues to beat
pumping putrid blood into icy veins.
Minion of the devil,
violator of all that's right
How do you sleep at night?
You sit in court with your head hung low.
ruthless villain, surely you are not ashamed.
Remorse knows not your name.
Apologetic vomit spewed out the holder of lies
situated on your aggravated face.
Life. Snuffed out by your hand
like a candle struck by a mighty wind.
36 years to life, the sentence you must serve...
Step right up vengeance,
your room awaits
I haven't seen the ashes all summer
Witnessed the flowers collapse into dust,
The violator rose's lavender petals
Dancing the breeze
Through my bedroom window
I haven't felt the autumn rain
Nor caught a leaf or planted grain,
The garden shed's closed for the winter,
And the music band understand
Six months shall wait till there next date
Spring shall break and summer fall
The crops shall fail reduced for sale
A tired sun upon the land tries to lend a helping hand
Raped for prosperity to profit the Deity
The tears of our land can’t be felt by man's hand
I haven't seen the ashes all summer!!
"Ark"
books have eyes here
they sense things
through the turning of leaves
strange chapters
they listen to small sounds
loud lives lived quietly
they are grounded cells
measured by rings
in untouchable ancient territories
somewhere else,
Amazonia
sheds tears
she cries
for her children,
and herself, to be saved
the violator
rapes her body
he beats her until she is dry
he doesn’t hear her
he takes and takes, from her,
what he thinks, is his
her pain, his pleasure
he undresses her
the way he likes
her children
he mutilates
and discards
the bounty, his treasure
the air to breathe, sullied,
becomes much thinner
when the soul collectors came
they only saved
the purest energy
the books have eyes here
they watch, they listen
they see things unseen
through other dimensions
measureless to man
they record his story
eventually, the ancient ones ascend,
with mother Gaia, her daughter Amazonia,
and all creatures, their children
through strange waves
they take new leaves
freedom to breathe
they are the higher vibrations
rapturously transported
to the better worlds
the story recorded
in each book with eyes,
chapters from all the leaves
stripped bare,
remain with the violators
who now stand discarded
unwanted,
left behind in despair
crying their tears
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Ocelot”/Emancipator
https://youtu.be/Yn_g40iRi90
"The trees will tell their secrets to those that tune in.”
Steven Magee
"They claim this mother of ours, the Earth,
for their own use, and fence their neighbors
away from her, and deface her
with their buildings and their refuse."
Sitting Bull
"We have enslaved
the rest of the animal creation,
and have treated our distant cousins
in fur and feathers so badly
that beyond doubt,
if they were able to formulate a religion,
they would depict the Devil in human form."
William Inge
The mind is not a room
that simply forgets a broken window.
It remembers the wind.
A body violated
is not only flesh harmed—
it is a geography disturbed,
a map where borders once trusted
have been crossed by force.
In the quiet afterward
the brain begins its strange labor:
Filing terror into drawers of memory,
misplacing safety,
misreading the footsteps at night in the hall.
Sleep becomes a thin country.
Dreams patrol its borders.
The heart learns new mathematics—
how one moment
can multiply into years
of hyper vigilance.
There are echoes:
a voice,
a smell,
a certain angle of shadow
that startles the nervous system
like lightning remembering the sky.
Yet the mind,
astonishing instrument,
does not belong to the violator.
Neurons continue their slow weaving.
Trust, though shattered,
sometimes grows again
like a rose through the crack in a sidewalk.
Male or Female,
each survivor carries two stories:
the violence done,
and the stubborn will to live on afterward.
And though trauma carves deep rivers
through the landscape of thought,
the human mind—
mysterious, resilient—
still seeks the ocean if calm to start healing.
Even after the storm passes,
the brain continues,
its quiet work, arms stretched out.
Reaching out to each new dawn.
Driving home in the dark
telegraph poles like a thousand crucifix's line my road.
Winding lanes leading home, but my life going nowhere.
Just a number on a plc payroll.
I'm just waiting to find out what will kill me.
There's no escape victim or violator we all die
slave to commerce.Can you live without it !.
My two up two down world
My body clock ticking down
Was I born or manufactured for some company's gain
A florescent light replaces my sun
and I talk, at the sound of call centre bleep
I'm no free man, a paid slave
not even human to the management crew
just another victim of corporate greed
to be tossed aside as my child takes my seat
on this cruel roller coaster ride
CALLED LIFE
comp entered 12/09
just dawned upon me awareness today
April 20th, 2022 14:30 military time.
Unvoiced law of the land
obeyed lest one
who owns temporary priority
will get mad and deliver hex
upon generations of violator
even if parked car property
of an innocent visitor,
who knew not the space
self relegated to Matthew Scott.
Fifth anniversary of our occupancy
housed within one bedroom apartment
additionally, familiarly, and specifically
known to us as B44
will occur July first
two thousand and twenty two.
Soon after we,
(yours truly and the missus)
moved here first day of seventh month
two thousand and seventeen
both of us unanimously co-opted
select parking space.
For residents at highland manor Apartments
self assigned parking exists here,
and each resident better be conscientious
cuz resulting consequence
(think Monty Python's Flying Circus
forever linkedin courtesy
John Philip Sousa's
'The Liberty Bell' March),
where mean strong arm of law
actually disguised as
animated outsize foot
see https://www.youtube.com
/watch?v=2AxiATxLofk
reaches from out the sky
and crushes wayward miscreant
hence verboten to dare occupy
parking space of another.
Fond memories associated
with me attempting to back into
between painted (occasionally
blurred) lines describing
open ended box,
whereby after umpteen attempts
(after shearing off tire tread
of driver or left passenger side)
amidst guffaws uttered by spouse,
she insists to take over
and backs in with nary a hitch.
Such unspoken accommodation
also prevailed when I happened
to consider myself a perpetual student
and established voluntarily
choosing a catbird seat,
and remaining steadfast sitting
in same chair
(of course I mean only
during time class in session)
throughout the semester.
The devil worshippers' son, Albert Simmons,
the Image comic made him antihero Spawn,
became in the CIA a high-ranking officer,
and turned into a competent and cruel killer.
The ace conspirator Strinson succeeded
to burn him to death as he wanted,
and sent him to hell to perish permanently,
where the devil made him a Hellspawn instantly.
With the brutally burnt body in pain,
he eventually returned to earth alive again,
in the form of Violator, a demonic sentry,
with no knowledge of his previous identity.
He wandered in a state of disorientation weary
with the remnants of the aborted memory,
till the time he located Wanda, his lost wife,
who deserted him for a better life.
He was told his powers might get depleted,
and to hell he would return totally divested.
So, in order to perpetuate the strength he got,
for his daring life a new mission he sought.
He performed many antihero escapade actions,
demolished the demon’s domination.
As the society was suffering in the menacing times,
he vowed to fight the criminals of organized crimes.
In the long run, his abode was destroyed to rubble,
he survived, and as he recovered from the trouble,
heard God tell him, Wanda was trapped in hell.
He fought with the Satan and saved her, all was well.
He redeemed his love for her who saw heaven’s glory.
To keep alive her sweet memory,
Spawn persisted to protect the people by his might
from supernatural threats that he thought not right.
_______________
April 27, 2023
Contest : Spawn Variants
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
Population
Seems to be a constant ratio
New born and deaths
Always keep a balance
Marriage and pregnancy
Triple the populations
New generations emerge
Wars ,disasters ,epidemics, natural causes
Double the diminishing
Deaths occur
What's a hell
Who is guilty
Man is a part of the violator
Because he starts a war
Because he persuades the virus grows
Because he's careless about the natural disasters
And too bad
Some people are still making profit out of them
And life becomes harder and harder
In the end
Man pays an extra debt for his own deeds
Just because of
A fake population balance
A real scandal
To kill and to conquer( wars )
To pursuit freedom of choice of life styles ( selfish and careless )
In the end
Some people just sigh
They can't do anything
Because this Omicron is also just a population balance
The forest was usually clean of dangers, but today was different.
White stag sensed a new evil in the oaks to the east. He ran to see.
There was a predator there, a violator whom he had never sensed.
Others were in hiding now; moles, voles, rabbits and chipmunks.
Fall squirrels had stopped gathering acorns. They were in tree nests.
High off the forest floor, trembling, scared into submission.
White stag felt their terror, and it made him determined and upset.
It was a man, worse than a hunter, a predator of the worst sort.
Young girl child was lying on the ground motionless.
Devil human had killed her. He was digging a grave.
White stag rushed him, surprising him in the best way.
The violator fled, leaving the young child behind.
She opened her eyes and stared at White Stag.
She asked for her mommy.
I will take you home, he reassured her.
He did, for he was as magical as creatures ever become.
White stag was her power animal.
After bringing her back to life, would taking her home be a big deal?
These dreams, they scare me
They fully control me.
They prevent me from moving.
And silence all my screams.
The screams I see
They never leave me.
For even when I walk
In the shadows those screams they follow me.
I fear sweet slumber.
I fear its perilous test.
Its shakes me to my bone.
And frightens me like a pest.
As my eyes close
In that bodily need to rest.
My hands start trembling.
And my heart starts to fret.
For once again I know
There will be murder. There will be gore.
Death as we see it
And death as I know.
Such a bloody scene it seems to be.
So angry and such ill fate
So much blood I refuse to see.
Blood on the floor and blood soaking my soul.
A violator, a bloodthirsty killer.
A revengeful sister.
A knife. A nail.
A sharp object of many a face.
A stabbing pain
A chilling scream
My racing heart
Echoing her dying dream.
The end is it?
So does it seem.
Fooled and deluded
In joy so repulsively.
Just as I think
This horror will end.
Once again, she comes around
To continue this vicious circle
Of death, stealing sleep
BY
Amanda.M.Miller
Form: