I don’t understand adult wickedness
Troubled violent people in a mess
There is no scope for a clear reason
To exist within or near their circle
The terror they bring, what on Earth
Is their meaning? The evil intention
Scares their victims to shreds
Blood runs cold, blood runs freely
When the violence begins bluntly
Pressing on a vulnerable body
What hatred in their hearts they hold
Sinking to the gutter.
Seeking only the power
To control to terrify to kill
Leaving deep scars on hearts
That are not ever meant to heal
Confusion hurt pain
That lasts for months, years
Why do such as these hate this way
Ignoring the consequence
Flirting with a prison sentence.
Flinging fists, strangleholds
Pinning down their victims
Scum is not even a suitable name
For the attackers have no shame.
These have no feelings, what game
Are they intending to play?
Stalking their victims each and every day,
Menacing those who were made scared.

I am not cut from the same cloth
I have no violent intent to others
My offerings are tenderness and care,
I could never strike someone weaker.
It is cowardly to hurt a child or woman
With fists, big hands, kicking,
I vomit at the sight of them
Harming less strong and abled victims
Every day I hear of husband anger
Turn to merciless cold danger
The child beaters are everywhere
Like a curse that turns sour our very air
Regular slaps, put downs, insults, punches
Clearly such revolting men and women
Have no love for their spouse or children
Have no real capacity to love
Only themselves to distraction
The evilness to seek satisfaction
Through dishing out pain and humiliation
They are worse than wild beasts,
Depraved souls seeking subjugation
I don’t lower the standing of humans
To thinking perpetrators of violence
Are anything other than gutter trash
Why do such people hate this way?
I don’t understand the where for or harm
Nor do I waste my time wondering why
What happened to their humanity
They despise goodness and decency
Their abuse and threats met only
By the weight of the law occasionally
These low life escape retribution
Which would be more satisfactory
More fitting to match their savagery.
From where does my anger come
Is there a latent nest of confusion
Settled within me waiting to emerge
When I learn of people’s violent urge.
Is it because someone has been angry at me
Or have I witnessed too much pain really
Caused by violence to vulnerability
Towards men women and children
Too weak to resist superior strength.

For decades I have actively protested 
Set up support for victims of bullying
For really people violence is bullying.
Bullies can only be satisfied by the pain
They inflict on their weaker targets
Such is their grim satisfaction and yet
They have no shortage of victims
To speak to people who were bullied
Maybe in childhood through neglect
Or active violence, threats, put downs
By adults parents teachers clowns
Maybe attacks by partners spouses
Those you thought you could trust 
The destruction is almost complete
The scars from the pain go deep
Why do such people hate this way?
My meagre words of empathy
Seem so pathetic as I listen keenly
To those who have received violence
Those gratified by punching, the consequence
They are wilfully blind towards.
Not a moment of feeling inwards
Occurs to sociopathic man or woman
They have no love towards another 
Only contempt hatred disdain no other.
The idea of a killer who likes the feel of blood
Oozing between their savage fingers
Is fascinated and gains a carnal pleasure 
Watching their victim fading from life
Wanting this control using their knife.

My disgust towards the perpetrators
Sometimes is raw indignation
Absent of sympathy or tolerance
Such violence forced upon weaker souls
Penetrates my heart leaving holes
That need the healing of the universe
Revenge towards the bully is tempered
By thinking of repercussions
Towards the victims of assault and battery
No need to bring the weak more misery.

Childhood traumas caused by hitting
Last a person all their life through
It lives within them always, it is true
Abusers, child haters, wife beaters, bombers
Priests of yore, present day politicians,
Will find no understanding within me
My instinct is to be between victim and bully
Is profound it will move me to action
To provide in some small way protection.
Whether Israeli bombing of innocent children
Or domestic torturing of victims
My ire will grow quickly, towards them
The givers of violence I show no kindness
They would not understand niceness
For they spit upon those they harm
They despise those people they hurt
They try to squash them into the dirt
For some there is no escape, not today.
Why do such people hate this way?