bullying death murder pain

Thrown into the Bayou

His body was dismembered

and thrown into the bayou


His head floated

and they found it


The investigator

looked into his eyes


and saw the horror

of the murder


Disguarded like trash

destined to be eaten by aligators


This person, unfortunately

got the wrong end of the stick


And his father had

to stomach the fact


of what had happend

to his son


what a tragedy,


Why must humans do such things?


what is the point of killing?



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A warm Summer's Day


The feeling of a warm summer’s day


It feels so nostalgic


The birds chirp and sing


The deer’s are prancing


The foxes are dancing among the trees


She stands there, hidden between the big oak trees


Her sun dress flowing


She reaches her hands towards the sky


She tries to grasp what her spirit can’t


Can’t you hear them?


All around, they can be found


Don’t you see them?


A cold shiver runs through her spine


This feeling so familiar


So nostalgic


How did this end up to be?


The humming of cicadas


Far from her


Hidden in the trees


Fills the void of being lonely


Looking left


Looking right


They surround her


The feeling of a warm summer’s day


So nostalgic


So torn


She reaches her hand out again





She could be free again

They would set her

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I hope its okay...

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I am still being murdered?


but surly.




the pain,

the deep deep pain.

What is there to gain?



Though there is no

blood dripping knife in my chest.

I am still being murdered?



Though there is no

smoking gun.

I am still being murdered?



Though there is no

allusive deadly poison.

I am still being murdered?



The weapons of choice

is omission of sworn responsibilities,

and denial of public services.

The neglecting of


The burning of HUMAN RIGHTS.



Weaponized policies

doeth kill!



Weaponized Law

doeth kill!



Murders wielding



and public policies.

Quiet directions

is the assassin’s weapon of choice;

to slash,

to maim,

and kill.

It is all the same.




the revolting shame,

of the sinful same,

in a legal football game.



With cold dark bloody souls,

leaving bloodless corpses.

Criminal leaches,

with self enabling immunity.

Gulping down innocent lives,

and leaving an empty carapace.

Blood sucking vampires

with a blood letting creed;

Ravenous devours of virgin blood.



With life-force drained,

you are dead,

as dead can be.

It is still the same;

murder by any other name,

would stench just as sweet.



You don’t need a bloody beating heart

upon a cold concrete floor

to commit murder.

A clean slice

of the “CIVIL NECK,”

will suffice,

or do the same.




the shameful,

disgusting shame,

of this zero sum game.





will make you more dead,

than any untimely death will do.




it is the same,


doeth murder me.


doeth kill!




The unbearable shame,

of a disgraceful shame.



In this sense,


Who will claim the blame?



Will you,

Mr. John Gerretsen?

Who sees no crime.

Who hears no crime.

Theft became legal

under your stewardship.



The “Colour of Right”

was sent out to pastor

in your rain.



On your watch,

it became improper

to exercise one’s authority

over one’s own property.



The Law has been raped,

ravaged without regard for tender kisses

or a warm gentle embrace;

personified as a two dollar whore,

without regard for her human-store.

Truth is forced to commit treason,

and be sent to the executioner’s galantine.

Fair justice has been turned inside out,

turned upside down,

to conceal the crimes of your faithful servants.



You did not respond,

while you commanded selective punishments.


will you respond,

or remain in silent admission,

for you are guilty as charged.

Is this a conspiracy?



Will you,

Mr. B. Hird with no badge number

to your



false name?

Who does not exist at bar.

A phantom,

alleging more than one charge.

A false entity,

swearing a positive oath,

to convict the victim,

and is duly paid.

Is this a conspiracy?



Will you,

DC Gregory Stribbell with badge number 529?

Who commits a fraud.

Who commits more fraud.

Who makes false returns.

Who swear a false oath,

and perjure himself.

Is this a conspiracy?



Will you,

Mr. Paul Westgate take the blame?

Who covertly instructs a Justice.

Who colour the court.

Who corrupts a Judge.

Who deceive the court.

Who suppresses evidence,

and played his part

for justice not to start.

Is this a conspiracy?



Will you,

Ms. Joanne Stuart take the blame?

Who neglect the case,

to cover up crimes.

Who suppress evidence

for a malicious case.

Who deceive the Judge,

to perjure herself.

Is this a conspiracy?




Will you,

Officer Pekeski with badge number 2261?

Who assault the victim,

and proudly dawn’s the mask of guilt,

for a false name.

Who failed to attend,

when summoned to court.

False imprisonment,

he played a big part.

For the 911 call

was the victim’s mark.

Is this a conspiracy?



Will you,

Ms. Deborah Krick take the blame?

Who suppress evidence

time and time again,

as an immunity right,

to cover her friends crimes.

Is this conspiracy?



Wayne Ferron: Victim

Victim still.

Malicious prosecutions

made the first mark.

Continued reprisals,

is to seal his part.

For  revenge

is so so sweet,

on a damaged heart.



“Bitter Fruit.”

“Strange fruit hanging...,”

fallen leaf...


stop murdering me?

Murder doeth kill!



Will you,

Ms. Kathrine Kirkpatrick

of BORDEN LANDNER take the blame?

The judgement seat you stole again,

with vicious lies,

to protect your friends,

and hide there crimes

in a wishing well.

Is this conspiracy?



“Silent Murder,”

doeth kill!




the blasted shame

to play the sinful amoral games.

To defeat the course of Justice,

and avoid righteous claims.

Unequal justice is never explained.

What a shame.

What a shame.

What a shame,

it’s always the same                                                 


Weaponized Law

still kills!



Stop the killing,

and live!



Leegal Poet

Wayne Ferron


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Black Hand

Their cages surrounded me,

Taunting me,

Haunting me,

Slaughtering my emotion,

Which causes a commotion,

Their snake like eyes and their lies,

Control, compromise and confront my life,

Their blackness seeping into my veins,

My heart in chains,

With locks of pain,

With no key to unchain.


Take Flight

These concrete boots a cast upon my feet
there heavy weight cause soul to weep
as I’m tied to these concrete boots
while others in my same position
know not the image I envisage so
Proceed to pad their concrete boots
with soft sponge lining they've set their roots

but I have sores upon my soles from rubbing
of these concrete bowls that weigh my wings
to ground and soil they anger souls and blood they boil
yet fellow men around my sides adjust to them like creeping tides
a ghost I am emotions hide my dream to take a flight

for many years I’ve sucked it dry the grey brick filtered
out as tears I cry I cannot hide I cannot lie
my wings so wilted inside they die.

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