Molesters Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Choristers

Let's not lose our lunch
or get our undies in a bunch
when apprised of
all those male vicars
compelled to infiltrate
choirboys' knickers
they may think it jolly
but I believe
they're off their trolley
at best they're jesters
at worst molesters
within the hierarchy
no matter what ranking
deserving of more than
just a damn good spanking
indeed why not weed them out
and of all the unkindest cuts
below the belt
relieve them of their nuts

Premium Member Night Undresses the City

      Night undresses the city 
       her warts and gaping wounds
         the stench of her river of stale urine… 

      Swollen feet wrapped
         in rags of sweat and onion
           pretending to make a living
              in the cathedral of no communion

       of pimps and whores who prowl
         the very streets where 
           slick suits of daylight
             whored just hours before

        of alleycats and strays 
           who dare not yowl
              or claw
                by light of day …

        Darkness, too, innocent love sequesters
           ~ one back-alley stairway up
                from child molesters

My Children Don't Hate Pray for People It's God's Will

God say we are to pray for all,
And He means everyone!
Pray for the child abuser,
The killers with the gun.
Pray for all child molesters,
And the rapist too!
Pray and forgive the parent,
That you feel has failed you!
Pray for the racist people,
Anyone that hates or fights.
Pray for all evil in this world,
Because God says it's right!
All of us are under the same curse,
In Genesis chapter three.
As long as we walk upon this earth,
From it's affect no one's free!
That's why Jesus went to that Cross!
To die for you and me.
The part for us we are to do,
On earth as long as we live.
Is pray for ALL no matter what,
And ask God for grace to forgive!!!


Premium Member Posthumous Humus

Four dead Jesuits,
now confirmed as child
molesters, but when alive
these monsters’ crimes,
were covered in
obfuscation.

And when they passed,
were the Last Rites recited
and are they buried
in sanctified grounds?

May their rest be as
unrestful as their
victims lives and
and the fitful sleep
of their confessors.

Premium Member The Book of Proverbs

Don’t shake hands with poison ivy or play fetch with rabid dogs.
Never trust the crap fanatics post on hate spewing blogs.
Don’t ever lose touch with your brakes when the highway is slick,
And don’t be a dick.

Don’t hang out with child molesters or give rides to psycho freaks.
Never look to find perfection when you’re shopping for antiques.
Don’t ever cross over the lake when the ice isn’t thick,
And don’t be a dick.

Don’t expect an evangelical to have an open mind.
Never fail to see the goodness in the rest of humankind.
Don’t order a triple scoop cone you’re not ready to lick,
And don’t be a dick.

The wisdom that drips from the spigot, 
The principal notions that click,
Are exercise good common sense, 
And don’t be a dick.

Premium Member Molesters

they did wretched things
concealed but not forgotten
victims life-long pain


Premium Member Indigenous Ghost

No amount of political education
could quell his mingling organ they call ‘simple brain,’
while mutations from grammar association
to unravel civilization's complex pain.
His shield prepared against another man’s logic
a mind opened only to serve his needy soul,
he knows the whole wide world lost in pedagogic
actors all on strings portray their orthodox role.

Many years he stood in testament of this place
a visual creation of his ancestors,
deluge of emotion the wind of change did brace
where cultures collide to appease his molesters,
forced to greet one’s neighbour face to face in shackles
before moral bait preached from veiled tabernacles.

 © Harry J Horsman 2019

Premium Member The Love Birds - In Trump's Own Words

Chuck and Nancy quite the couple
They work in tandem and speak as one,
Like two fly’s buzzing in unison
Into my space have they now come.

A New York hack and a California dreamer,
Their single purpose to stop me in my tracks,
Just when the nation needs my talent most,
All I hear from them are quacks.

There’s a national emergency
With heathens at our gates,
Rapists, robbers and molesters,
The basest form of life’s primates.

But my wall will stop them,
To protect us all,
For them to try and block it
Takes truly quite some gall.

The fight’s not over,
I’ll win this yet,
Upon the outcome
You can now bet.

Our darling lovebirds
Need watch the sky,
As this great eagle
Comes swooping by!

Premium Member Lady Moon

Lady moon dressed in black
with star children in your lap
are you mourning for the dead
killed by rapists, murderous thefts
hunting beasts of hiding dark  
leaving blood and body parts
by your lamp silently watched? 
Is it shame for lustful beds
in your mantle hiding nest:
fornicators child molesters 
secret lovers present, past
that at times your whiteness 
turns red
blushing crimson like sunset? 
If for sun you wane and sigh 
why then hide when its splendor,   
searching rays of pure bright light, 
leave no darkness in which to hide?
Mystery mantle of the night 
hiding hope beyond far stars
glory, joy, forever love
mourning moon light.

The Woman

Yes, I am a woman
They say I bring good omen.

Yet, I am stifled as a foetus
and consumed as negus.

As a girl, there is no respite
My molesters have their collars coloured white.

Shall I speak or shall I engulf in myself what I perceive
For to render aside humanity and brutality there is no such sieve.

No clouds would set asunder; No rain would come to heal.

I know I would be engulfed in the thunder
and my life would be left unbloomed

Yet I ask this world
For what fault am I punished
When you cherish and blossom; why is my life unfurnished?

The Place

The Place


There is a place.
A place in my heart that takes me to a world that is filled with all the things that ours is not.
It is where all the beautiful women I could never have feed me grapes, sing me to sleep and kiss me goodnight.
Where the ocean smells of rain and is returned to what it once was before man dipped in its oily hands to wash off their oily faces.
Where hangovers are a contained and controlled disease and are talked upon much like the Black Plague.
Where clocks have been outlawed and are only placed in the prison cells of rapist, murderers, and child molesters.
There is this place in my heart,
And it only exists through the words of this poem.
 
-But that doesn’t stop me from going there. 


-Bryce Stoskopf

Broken Rules

I think that I will never see
A rule unbroken; disagree?

Traffic laws, command for games;
Making false insurance claims.

Ten commandments, trespass signs;
People cutting checkout lines.

Litterers and all molesters;
Scammers cheating lame investors.

Those who simply won’t comply;
Laws for them just don’t apply.

Rule creators can’t persuade
Some that rules should be obeyed.

Comin Clean With Jesus

comin’ clean with “jesus”

ever see the footage of Aileen
“comin’ clean with “jesus?”
when she was rambling about 
being “under the devil” &
passing through all the statistics
dealing with how rare a possibility
it would have been for her to 
get off death row?

do you think you’ll ever see one
of these catholic molesters/rapists
of little kids,
“come clean,” whether it be for their
fictional character called 
“jesus,” or whether they might just be
honest for once in their lives?

easier to condemn a woman who had been
raped by her own grandfather,
easier to condemn a woman whose life had 
been a train wreck of horror &
let the upstanding, “holy” men of the cloth,
continue to walk the earth.

The Joy Vampire

empty hearted herself
she cozied up to me
offering the magic
of imagination
of  stories in the moonlight
of dancing early in the morning
around the misty lake

it didn’t pay to argue
for logic was always on her side
she was always right
i was always wrong

except sometimes
she would shock me

when the worm threatened to turn-
she would acquiesce
gifting me with a rare compliment
i did know what i was talking about
i could sew a straight seam
i could create

until i expected it
then she would turn, herself
and accuse me of perversion
in my imagination
in my poems and stories

when i wrote about the simple beauty of a young girl
and a small boy talking to a magic tree

-  i must be a ‘closet something’
 and why did i write about child molesters? 
                     
i had to stop sending her my thoughts
my dreams
my wishes

she was talented at opening me up
making me ripe for the killer sting
which i prayed would not come
this time

in that, she was always right
and i was always wrong
to hope she would ever change

Wake Up People

I'll tell you whats wrong with the world today, Everyone all caught up in texing facebook and all this here say.

People so busy with their lives and making money, Did you dumb asses forget why GOD put u here it isnt even funny.

Whether you believe in GOD or not were here for one thing, its about showing love not whose got the biggest bling. 

GOD gave me one gift its called I keep it real, I'll call you out on your stuff and tell you how I feel.

Pick a topic any topic and I'll spit my ****, the only question is can you handle it.

If I had my way theirs a few things I would do, Get rid of the death penalty, change the drug laws, put child molesters on an island alone just to name a few.

 People can change this I know, We all got love its in our SOUL.

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