Assailant Poems

A Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality

a sharp two-edge blade
cuts too quick for pound of flesh-
sly parry of wit
leaves assailant floundering
for razor sharp comeback slice

Royal Ocelot Island

    Raft branch buoyed in canopy crossroad 
    Ocelot pillow paws rail rainforest rotunda 
    Yataghan claws trail trunk, track cathode
    Assailant arouse pounces, stiff tail rudder
    Lithe, while night looms, lightspeed silent


    Ogling exotic shores - she yanks anchor
    Centipede nimble Queen needs her tiara 
    Evermore adorned, baubles bean arabica 
    Lustrous pearl dozes on dark décolletage
    Opulent moon mother of tides, sly tyrant
    Tortures subordinates to claim her island
  

    Iridescent iris treasure hunt sailor ocelot 
    Spotted sea captain keeps snake for halo
    Lapis lazuli exclusively steers royal yacht
    Asphyxiating prey, Casper crouch lay low
    Navigating her way to throne, puss pirate 
    Drapes cashmere ears in conquest crown




         Nautical Nineteenth November

Not done yet

Not done yet 

Jason Doig joined the South Australia Police as a cadet in 1989
Commencing his service as team orientated officer so inclined
Between 1995 to 1998 he served as a Naval Reserve diver too
Giving his time and skill for Australia freely as his duty to do
But he was not done yet  

He served the Luncindale Community for twelve years 
An ideal country police officer and quintessential bloke without peer
As the bedrock of his Community he was always there
His creed was kind, caring, generous and unique to care
But he was not done yet

Jason was adventurous by habit in all he’d do
He lived his life by his creed all the way through
Taken by an assailant and his duty met
It was clear in this time that he was not done yet….

© Paul Warren Poetry

For Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig South Australia Police killed by assailant’s bullet on 17 November 2023 at Lucindale, South Australia . RIP your duty done.

trauma

Ex-President Trump had a near miss recently. That can be traumatizing.

We know how it is, our old republic survived a near insurrection recently.

At least Trump's assailant was killed, he can rest easy.

Thanks to faux-jurisprudence, our felon is still out there - on the loose.
.
.
Songs for this:
Run On by Elvis Presley
Use Me (feat. Cynthia Greene) by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
Order My Steps by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
.
I love gospel music, maybe because I’m from Georgia, the home of MLK, civil rights and the Ebenezer Baptist Church. Lisa (who lives in Manhattan) and I’ve made two pilgrimages to the Brooklyn Tabernacle to hear the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. I admit that I’m a heathen and a pagan but when I hear a gospel choir - I'm easily reduced to tears, and I’m moved to at least wish that I believed.
.
I would never wish Mr. Trump harm. I would like to see him loose fairly and resume his opulent, civilian life.

Two Ninjas

There were two ninjas in the dark
Who lay under sheets
Covered in their linen armour
Safe in servants' courters

There were ninja stars beside beds
Numchucks at hand’s breadth
To wield stealth attack
A forcefield of strength

There were guard dogs as allies
Silent and calm collected
Patrolled with gnarled teeth
Agents of the clan

There were two ninjas in the dark
Who lay under sheets
Quiet and self-restrained
Until window panes did shriek 

There were two ninjas on their feet
An assailant was at hand
With much commotion and snarling 
Were they at flight to catch that man!

These two ninjas in the dark 
Were but brothers trying to sleep
Burglars came to wreak havoc
And that is about the norm…

Kiss-Ups

If a time and place is different
for them to fire off their weaponry,
to lie and win against a significant.
What keeps a similarity in liability,
to lie and win in a predicament
where skill is an absolute necessity?

Bold and without a last abatement,
I see through the lies of industry.
Bold and without a past abashment,
wouldn't be paid a cent currency.
Seen by gross pure aggrandizement,
violent potent a cologne adversary.

Laughably, an obvious despondent.
Is there no end to one so lairy?
A stone thrown, I notice your salient.
I won't resemble the tuning veeries.
Even no pruning, losing an assailant.
The truth is tied up in flimflammery.

Path set by the trying time rodent.
Cocky, peacocking varies ostentatiously.
Read past the first half constituent.
Go pass-through a proof for checkery.
Auction of nonsense falsified Rembrandt.
Author a snow cipher meeting misery.

Prologue Post Treason

      LizPiggo began gobbling up the bodies of the four Cartel members. "What"! Her newly aware look at her comrades, questioned in a somewhat hurt and astonished manner, their judgmental attitudes. "We have to get rid of the evidence!" She whipped out a bottle of Uncle Ray's barbecue sauce and a salt and pepper combo shaker,
some Country Crock (churn style),
a napkin wrapped utensil set, a kids pool plastic makeshift toilet, (which she was going to hand to Shroomer, because he was full of hot air, but remembered he was now an assailant/fugitive in their circle), instead she french kissed Rosie Odonut and said, "if you blow up this beach and get your lips warmed up I will split the last two with you", while winking. When she fashioned her table cloth bib in place (so she wouldn't stain her beautiful Sunday dress) she was rock em sock em-and ready to go.

Gus shook his head and began pairing everyone up in teams...Then, WailersWitch walked in...

Messengers

North Howard Street on a hot summer Friday,
two elderly men quietly praying on a sidewalk
outside a Baltimore, Maryland Planned Parenthood,
suddenly a single man assailant brutally battered
the both of them,
the concrete the men were slammed down to
was hard and unyielding.

Although they were bloodied with broken bones
and bruises,
they returned to the Planned Parenthood the
next Tuesday.
Two more of God's messengers,
witnesses for a chance His babies can
be born-
who cannot speak up for themselves.
Jesus shed His life's blood-
so we could truly live too. ~

Cracked

he panted heavily
muscles twitching in his naked body
running frenzied, without looking back,
he shouted, “He is after me.... my life”
a rip roaring cry....!

the traffic halted
pedestrians stopped
people from shops came out
women through curtained windows peeped
children stopped their play

“so drunk”.... a man murmured
“A crack”.... someone shouted
“coming right after an orgy”
sneered, an oldie...
“pity on him...! Take him to an asylum”
one gentleman suggested.
he needs help, majority opined
‘nab this plague’, the moral police quipped

what is he running from...? 

an assailant....?
corona virus....?
his own phantom...?
two sane men staying, 
at a corner wondered.
they had masks on their face
“must be a health worker”..!
one of them said...
“yes, the subtle nuances of a cracked mind”
the other agreed!

as the scene on the road, 
had grown into a high voltage drama,
dissensions grew and multiplied!

March.10. 2023

~Placed Second~

Cracked Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anthony Biaanco

You Should'Ve Seen It Coming

As I sit here in my chair, something just didn't feel right,
I scratched my head, rubbed my face trying to broaden my sight.
 I though and mediated for hour's and hour's, with not even a clue,
what is this feeling that came over me, what am I to do?
 I had to have drank 4 pots of coffee and smoked cigarettes all the while,
then my phone rang, it was my attorney, he said would take it to trial.
 I wasn't sure how to tell him,  that I wasn't being charged anymore,
so I got up from my chair, started pacing the floor.
 I told my attorney I didn't need him, he ask me why?
well I laughed so hard I thought we were both going to cry.
 I told him I was no longer in the pasture, the place where I was being charged you see,
now there were 2 fences between the assailant and me.
 He ask if there were any officer's around in whom he could speak,
I told him I wasn't going back through that field forever and a week.
 I was charged twice already, almost had to hire you to keep from getting charged again,
you should've seen it coming, I was being charged by a bull and not  by men.

Arkham Asylum

Every busy city needs a vigilante,
Every seething cauldron needs a ladle,
Evil lurks in the dark,
It attacks like a shark.

Gotham city needs a defense,
Batman needs a place,
To house the assailant,
To take them away from the city’s terrain

Arkham asylum has held the fort,
Like a rope held taut,
The villain, it has held bound,
As many as could be found.

Some scoundrels escaped,
They were trailed and taped,
The road led to the asylum,
Securely reinforced to the maximum.



January 13, 2023.

The Cardinal and the Rose

Fate brought them together,
Purpose was their binder,
His oath took them apart, 
It was a harrowing mission,
He had seen the vision,
He was told that it was a prophecy,
One he had to fulfil, 
A tempest he had to still,
He journeyed with her to redemption,
They sojourned until completion,
It was a near-death experience,
They fought the monsters and prevailed,
They triumphed against the invisible,
He battled the last assailant,
He won but died,
She held him and cried,
Her good night kiss woke him up, 
Her love for him stayed with her,
Though far and apart he still sees her,
In his mind and dreams.



January 11, 2023.

Community Reaction

I read about a person
Who, within a city park,
Attacked a woman and her dog
At 6 a.m. (still dark).

He was rooting through the garbage,
Yelling crazily, before
Tossing urine in a bottle,
Then proceeded to do more…

With a stick he hit the woman,
Next her dog across the snout,
Which a witness heard and ran to see
What it was all about.

When the police came, the attacker
Had already up and fled
But the injuries the dog sustained
Caused him to wind up dead.

The assailant was familiar – 
He was known and clearly ill,
Yet community reaction
Is divided, voices shrill.

Some say find him and arrest him!
He’s a danger – he needs jail!
Others think he won’t get help
With the police hot on his trail.

Though it’s sad when mental illness
Can’t keep violence at bay,
This man’s demons should require
He gets treatment – far away!

In His Footsteps

No other would be my hero, 
No other valiant combatant I have seen,
He gave all up until zero.

On his premise, I’d rather lean,
Imbibe his bravery and courage,
Fight every opposition until I win.

Wage against every tempestuous rage,
Disperse the midnight fog,
Break loose from fear’s cage.

Freed my wheel from its cog,
Wield my sword against the assailant,
Push all down the hill like a log.

Persevere until I've warded off the pursuant.



August 2, 2022.
Five Stanza Terza Rima Poetry Contest,
L. Milton Hankins

Farewell Forever

Gone into the night,
She stood to a fight,
She wrestled the assailant,
Who was prevalent
on people of her age and time,
All she gave with not much a dime,
She fell into his hand,
And went to forever land.




July 13, 2022.

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