Slash them, burn them
cover them in scorching hot oil
and fry them until crispy, stomp
on them, feed them to a patch
of poison ivy.

Crush them, smash them
pound them flat with a huge
sledgehammer, then drive over
them back and forth until only
tire tracks remain, then wash
your driveway with bleach to
sanitize it from these evil beings.

Stab them with a steely stiletto,
drown them in a vat of acid,
quick, nothing slowly or suddenly.
Maim them, cripple them, squash
them like the agony they inflict,
slit their throats to silence their
putrid squeals.

Shoot them with arrows dipped in
arsenic, with bullets laced with cyanide,
with BBs filled with a lethal combo of
mamba venom and black widow venom,
then leave them in the sun to bake and
flake. Sweep up the remains but beware,
don’t touch!

Stack them into a poem, cover them
in strychnine, watch them squirm;
when they beg and plead for you to stop,
offer them a drink of hemlock, when
they curse at you, it’s time for belladonna.

Nirvana, all quiet on the poem front now.

J R (Judy) Turek, Superintendent of Poetry for the LI Fair, 2020 Hometown Hero by the East Meadow Herald, 2019 WWBA LI Poet of the Year, Bards Laureate 2013-2015, editor, mentor, workshop leader, and author of six poetry books. ‘The Purple Poet’ has written a poem a day for 18 years, and lives on Long Island with her soul-mate husband, Paul, her dogs, and her extraordinarily extensive shoe collection.