(Due to the brutal and graphic nature of this crime scene and the ongoing investigation there is no picture available at this time.)
I’d like to take this opportunity to express my thoughts and with all due respect, speak bluntly, Mr. President. Nothing in particular really, just a random chain of cognitive ideas wrought by your blundering half-cocked-swagger-accented-“heh”-times three-strut that tumbles out your Milli Vanilli cowboy giddy-up spittoon wet with nothing coherent, or true, or resembling good English, or honor, trust, strength, anything at all respectable, or even within an nth of godliness, just a haphazard chain of disingenuous spaghetti westernized one-liners of insidious claptrap-twaddle-rubbish gurgling and splattering projectile spittle out down and on your never-been-man-enough-to-do-anything-on-your-own-without-daddy-or-mommy-or-your-team-of-sycophant-whispering-sweet-nukular-nothings-in-your-ear-of-never-had-any-real-character-to- speak-of and reflecting upon your heroes- Larry Curly Moe and the oft ignored Shemp- never contemplated anything greater than your own tired reflection and silver-spoon-fed-n-filled-hubris of self-righteous holier than thou too big for your wranglers pickup truck boot wearin’ horse trailer self absorbed selfish self-helplessness that splatters up down and `round your mindless yammering silhouette sauntering a black witless shipless hapless soul in-front of God and human-kind like a poorly written character in a yet to be written novel idea of an empty-headed nowhere to be home-schooled prick who never arrived on time and time again with fool tattooed on your foreheaded out the saloon door holding your six-shooter decider deciding your God before God can get a smote in edgewise and your not and you’ve never been but you’ve plummeted into the idea of failing and wailing and railing and it’s not getting hard and she needs you to satisfy her hunger and you don’t want to feel less than the man you know you’re never going to be so you wrench her arms behind her back and slam her face hard into the mattress and cotton blend sheets like so many times before belly down she whimpers face down muffled by the Slumber-Core Pillow prostrate in shame like so many times before feeling useless and angry and vengeful and old and that gets you peaked and madder and that gets you harder! Hard as a reinforced steel tower! Nothing’s gonna bring you down! You’ve already gone too far-fetched the rigid-bone-of-your-dead-and-dying and you can’t won’t don’t let her know you’re a frightened peeing in your pants thumb-sucking lip-smacking rude adolescent as you drive it deeper and harder and more brutal and she cries for you to stop and she bleeds and with each thrust you drive it deeper and she bleeds more with every crashing descent penetrating her walls knowing that the enemy of self-knowledge can’t redeem your weakness and tearing flesh and delivery of pain and suffering so you slam into her with all your rotting might tearing her open rending her flesh and bone! Watching the blood spill out of her you put on a grin knowing you’re the man you’re the drugstore cowboy clanking spurs proving your manhood showing the world you’re not a faggoty ass faggot! Hell no! You’re a man! "Man" the way God intended! And you won’t don’t can’t stop pummeling her even as she screams that you’re killing her and she screams and she screams and you again feel your blood boiling from her battle cries! You grab her by the neck and thrust and choke and split and cut and spit and the blood on your hands clinches her throat! She won’t stop flailing! Screaming! So you give her a desperate yank! Again! Again! She stops moving... Your vile semen and sweat mix with her miles of blood and death and heaven comes and she leaves her body and her oath and rises from the basin and barren she lies there lifeless eyes wide open still you drive deep into her proving, only to yourself, that you’re not in your final throes you’ve found a weapon of mass destruction the evil you battle and pledge to kill actually exists just outside the reflection of your halfcocked arrogance and strut…
(For those that must see pictures of the attack, although I can't imagine such voyeurism being so desirable, you can see the crime at Ben Heine - Cartoons…if you must…)
Caution- acute intolerance and convoluted scurrility contained within.
(Due to the brutal and graphic nature of this crime scene and the ongoing investigation there is no picture available at this time.)
I’d like to take this opportunity to express my thoughts
and with all due respect, speak bluntly, Mr. President.
Nothing in particular really, just a random chain
of cognitive ideas wrought by your blundering
half-cocked-swagger-accented-“heh”-times three-strut
that tumbles out your Milli Vanilli cowboy giddy-up spittoon
wet with nothing coherent, or true, or resembling good English,
or honor, trust, strength, anything at all respectable,
or even within an nth of godliness, just a haphazard chain
of disingenuous spaghetti westernized one-liners
of insidious claptrap-twaddle-rubbish gurgling
and splattering projectile spittle out down
and on your never-been-man-enough-to-do-anything-on-your-own-without-daddy-or-mommy-or-your-team-of-sycophant-whispering-sweet-nukular-nothings-in-your-ear-of-never-had-any-real-character-to- speak-of and reflecting upon your heroes- Larry Curly Moe and the oft ignored Shemp- never contemplated anything greater than your own tired reflection and silver-spoon-fed-n-filled-hubris of self-righteous holier than thou too big for your wranglers pickup truck boot wearin’ horse trailer self absorbed selfish self-helplessness that splatters up down and `round your mindless yammering silhouette sauntering a black witless shipless hapless soul in-front of God and human-kind like a poorly written character in a yet to be written novel idea of an empty-headed nowhere to be home-schooled prick who never arrived on time and time again with fool tattooed on your foreheaded out the saloon door holding your six-shooter decider deciding your God before God can get a smote in edgewise and your not and you’ve never been but you’ve plummeted into the idea of failing and wailing and railing and it’s not getting hard and she needs you to satisfy her hunger and you don’t want to feel less than the man you know you’re never going to be so you wrench her arms behind her back and slam her face hard into the mattress and cotton blend sheets like so many times before belly down she whimpers face down muffled by the Slumber-Core Pillow prostrate in shame like so many times before feeling useless and angry and vengeful and old and that gets you peaked and madder and that gets you harder!
Hard as a reinforced steel tower!
Nothing’s gonna bring you down!
You’ve already gone too far-fetched the rigid-bone-of-your-dead-and-dying and you can’t won’t don’t let her know you’re a frightened peeing in your pants thumb-sucking lip-smacking rude adolescent as you drive it deeper and harder and more brutal and she cries for you to stop and she bleeds and with each thrust you drive it deeper and she bleeds more with every crashing descent penetrating her walls knowing that the enemy of self-knowledge can’t redeem your weakness and tearing flesh and delivery of pain and suffering so you slam into her with all your rotting might tearing her open rending her flesh and bone!
Watching the blood spill out of her you put on a grin knowing you’re the man you’re the drugstore cowboy clanking spurs proving your manhood
showing the world you’re not a faggoty ass faggot!
Hell no! You’re a man! "Man" the way God intended!
And you won’t don’t can’t stop pummeling her even as she screams that you’re killing her and she screams and she screams and you again feel your blood boiling from her battle cries! You grab her by the neck and thrust and choke and split and cut and spit and the blood on your hands clinches her throat! She won’t stop flailing! Screaming! So you give her a desperate yank! Again! Again! She stops moving...
Your vile semen and sweat
mix with her miles of blood and death
and heaven comes
and she leaves her body
and her oath
and rises from the basin
and barren
she lies there lifeless
eyes wide open
still you drive deep into her
proving, only to yourself,
that you’re not in your final throes
you’ve found a weapon of mass destruction
the evil you battle and pledge to kill
actually exists just outside the reflection
of your halfcocked arrogance and strut…
Sincerely,
thepoetryman
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
(For those that must see pictures of the attack,
although I can't imagine such voyeurism being so desirable,
you can see the crime at Ben Heine - Cartoons…if you must…)
Caution- acute intolerance and convoluted scurrility contained within.
Sexual Violence: Fact Sheet
The World Can't Wait
Raping the World