O Girls, O Women, Be Aware

O Girls, O Women,  Be Aware short poem

Photo by Nogwater


O Girls, O Women, Be Aware
Mental Perverts are roaming everywhere , here and there,
Their Outer Appearance resembles like a human being,
but they are far from human
and most WILDER then Wild Animals.
So it makes most difficult to recognize them .
There must be some one element between all these Mental Perverts,
If that be known hope we can stop rapes.
Science is Exploring news ways to reach other planets.
But Alas no science is helping to stop the Rapes on this Planet.
They have no fear and tread everywhere
Let these Morons be tied in chains in Mental Asylums or
be Dumped in Active Volcanoes
so they know the pangs, the suffering they impose on girls, on women’s.
Let they be erased from earth otherwise mankind doesn’t deserve any Women

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

What’s The Difference?

Whats The Difference? long poem

The legato of language and lingo, The dance of diction and dialect — Have you ever considered the difference A little letter or two can effect? Texture of tense, Savor of sense, The nuance in a sentence — What’s really

U.f. Joe

U.f. Joe long poem

Meet Zask and Zisk, See them venture forth — They know little About the destination, Only that it’s an energy station On a big blue world Known to locals as Earth. “Look at that!” Exclaims Zask, “We are in luck

From My Journals ‘love’

From My Journals love short poem

The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half

There Be Monsters

There Be Monsters prose poem

We who are born in our minuscule cradle in the cosmos see monsters. We see monsters in our cradle having been born with us. We see monsters coming at us from below. We see monsters in the great beyond. We

From My Journals ‘anxiety’

From My Journals anxiety prose poem

The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain