Best Attacking Poems
**Back smile/smile Back **
With your heads way up your :]ssa[:
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease,
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well,
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage
With progressive mental retardation
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips
He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in,
The madness in Alice's Wonderland
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Revealing
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle,
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs
Cross My heart and hope to die!!!
~SKAT~
Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God. Selah
Psalm 54:3
GOD SEES THE COURAGEOUS AT WORK
Wild-eyed disregard for God —
The mocking tone, the spittoon.
The leering eyes —
they’re tiger’s eyes.
They plop near the weights —
the courageous snakes, and
throw balls of cannon smoke.
They hope that we will choke.
The courageous throw acid
in a virgin’s angelic face.
The courageous pounds their rusted
nails into fragile wrists and ankle saints —
these innocents whose haloed guardian’s
see the illuminated face of almighty God.
The courageous divide fetus parts,
roll them like dice, put them on display.
The courageous pillage, rape and sodomize
thinking if there’s a God, he will see it as sport.
They drink deeply the heart blood and soul
but none can escape the Ancient of Days.
Life is a pit, a mere hole for the courageous
to drown. They’ve looked for a fiery dragon
And he’s been found, awaiting the demise
of as many curs-ed petals he can find.
Selah…
if only for a moment the dead blinked,
the light of day might have saved their hide.
The brokenhearted will feast at the King’s table.
with no need to fear when evil is deceased.
9/24/2019
i stood looking outside
listening to the rain
with its long slender fingers
tap a tune against my window
squeegees in hand
i could see
the troops of drops
clean the air
for a clearer view
while on their descent
people
some walking
holding their umbrellas
others running
attempting to escape
the cruel barrage of
knocks to their heads
there are a few children
in their rainy day gear
locked and loaded
steady and ready
attacking the puddles
with a fierce offensive
crushing any and all puddles
dare question their authority
jumping and diminishing
the enemy ruthlessly
the children's joy
propels me to thoughts
of the gift ahead
a rainbow large
or maybe a double arc
fully colored vibrant
interrupted
my kettle
whistles
me over
meticulously
i proceed to prepare
my rainy day cocoa
in my neighborhood
it's a law
rain?
hot cocoa
cocoa in hand
i return to my show
the trees are soaked
the rain unrelenting
the plants forced
to bend under the
weight of heavy rain
all the tiny flyers
seek shelter
while birds
bomb dive
for their landing
worms however
are in their
full glory
out for their
unscheduled shower
later aliens
with lamps
shinning from
their foreheads
will gather
to pluck
worms
from the earth
poor worms
my daughters
will be glad
never having
liked crawlies
of any kind
i suppose
they would think
poor aliens
the rain now
is descending violently
apparently in cahoots
with the wind
but still no
thunder or lightning
this must be their
week off
a paid vacation
i gather
my cocoa only
warm and almost
finished
i decide to
bid the rain
a good night
i head
upstairs
for my
daily shower
Maurice Yvonne
September 12 2014
Rainy Day Contest
Come with me to the Talking Tree
a place where spirit and nature can be.
Where science of the forest couples
with ancient traditions of the land.
Where indigenous people learn to live
with trees mindfully hand in hand.
Listen to branches rustling hymns
through silent sounds in their limbs.
Mighty Maples murmur in the breeze
sweet tales of syrup drawn to please.
Trees converse, they do care
sending forest messages everywhere.
Through the air and underground
signals pulse from floor to crown.
Quaking Aspen is known for being
the earth's most massive living thing
these trees united by one root system
the world's largest superorganism.
Trees often act for collective good
doing exactly what they should.
Sometimes they will reset their mast
until the attacking danger's passed.
Internal rhythms set their pace
slower than the human race.
Tree's daily burden that they bare
is they process the world's air.
Did trees learn survival plans proven
in the 360 million years pre-human?
What do 7 billion humans foresee
as the fate for earth's 3 trillion trees?
Fallen trees again live too
vessels that life flows through.
Their wood relives deeply in
buildings, books even violins.
So stand with me in equanimity
and listen for lyrics patiently.
Wait to hear beneath this tree
poised to the sound of "poetree".
Tell me,
My dear friend,
My beloved brother,
My trusted ally,
Till when are we going to let
The autocrats
The dictators
The despots, and
The tyrants govern us?
Till when do we intend to allow these
Barbarous
Vicious
Immoral, and
Unholy glory-seekers rule our lives?
Till when are we going to permit these ignorant monsters,
To imprison,
To torture,
To maim, and
To kill their own people?
Till when are we going to observe these savages;
Attacking,
Occupying,
Enslaving, and
Obliterating smaller nations?
For how many more millennia do we have to witness the devastation of
Humanity because of these morally impotent criminals who
Instill tons of hatred in the hearts and minds of our fellow humans?
Tell me, my friend, my brother, my trusted ally,
Isn't about time to revolt against such malicious rulers?
Against such practices?
Against war?
Against ignorance, and
Against injustice?
Has not the time come to replace these bloodthirsty evil men
With virtuous men?
With men of a loving heart and mind?
With knowledgeable men?
With compassionate men for peace?
With men of wisdom and justice?
Come now, my fellow human,
I wish you would agree with me.
I want you to agree with me.
I beg you to agree with me.
I implore you to agree with me if you, too, wish to see a
Fellowship of men and nations that cares for each other and is:
Kinder,
Nobler, and more
Loving,
Otherwise,
The afflictions of humanity will never end,
Unless, as Plato* has indicated in his Republic**,
The wise and the just would rule the world
Or
Those who rule the world become just and
Wise!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 August 2022
-
*Plato, Greek philosopher 428-348 BC
** Republic is Plato's most famous work where he details a wise society.
***Today is my birthday, so I wished to focus on peace and love and pay a small tribute to a Great philosopher.
-
Biting into the dead,
he tastes the aftertaste of burnt ashes!
The meal of her emotions,
buried alive within silken strands.
Blood inside sorrow burning,
sweet desire weeping...
Yet, it cannot possibly extinguish his pain.
Bleeding heartbreaks do not expire.
His eternal torment is fortified.
Into two pieces he is equally divided.
One who feels he has his back against the wall!
The other who has not a care.
Free falling teardrops,
salted within life's passionate carnage.
Nails in his mouth for he is iron born,
attaching beauties have felt his plunging sword.
His sanctuary is a dream catcher.
He's stuck inside it's Web,
hanging there above forever,
until she takes his last breath away.
Always now, in this moment was he formed.
Long before time, he was destined to be hers
Until they meet again his heart pauses.
He will not know eternal glory,
until her love courses through his veins!
As he has promised, he will succumb to her
The angels then will sing
Rejoicing bells will ring out grateful notes
Both will finally atone for their sins!
A collaboration with Liam Mcdaid. Thanks for accepting my invitation.
When Liam first sent over his verses I had no idea where we would end up.
I thought you might find the process of interest. Here are the words Liam started us off with.
Biting into the dead remains of ashes burnt
buried alive blood inside sorrow burning
sweet desire weeps bleeding heartbreaks
in two divided one who has had the back against a wall
Freefalling teardrops within life's passion
nails in the mouth attacking beauties sanctuary
a dream catcher stuck inside a Web
hanging there forever
until you take my last breath away
always yours until we meet again
eternal glory as angels will sing
rejoicing bells ring grateful
I hope you enjoy the inside look.
cry of the lowly
reaches heaven's pinnacle...
God of love sees heart~~~
hear my heart's anguish
frustrated with unreached goals
feeling so worthless~~~
with gloomy spirit
divine revival I yearn
send fire from above~~~
midst attacking doubts
faith wavers, and staggering
I need firm anchor~~~
I need the Saviour
to Him I cling fervently...
goodbye to darkness
edited and fully revised on February 9, 2026
There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
and at night sometimes he visits me.
His attacks to my thigh
make me think I might die.
Wild "Charley Horse" acts horribly.
For he comes out of nowhere, so fast!
And he brings a sharp pain like a blast.
I scream like a loon
hit by a harpoon.
Then my husband awakens aghast!
But my hubbie can’t help me. That horse,
though invisible, has such great force!
How I love my reprieves
when the little beast leaves.
But his kind never stays gone, of course!
My poor calf he attacked in a pool
while I swam, and I felt like a fool
as I floundered around.
Well, I could have drowned!
He’s a mean little horse and a ghoul.
He’s got kin, and they all like the game
of bringing folks pain. One has fame
of attacking your womb
in a hospital room.
Now THAT one puts Charley to shame!!
By Andrea Dietrich
(note to those who do not know this common
American expression: Charley Horse is a leg cramp
and all the his kin are assorted types of cramps!)
For PD's "Any Poem Goes" Contest
We were both so young full of spirit and fun
She's the Indian I'm the Cowgirl as we move along the ground just fooling around
Running through the house attacking each other with laughter and joy trying to be coy
We see the rifle with no knowledge of great threat
Just giving us a peak with nothing to regret
My sister grabs it first and play shoots me but I'm quick and hold a might sway
I'm a strong cowgirl aiming to attack
I snatch the rifle from the Indian as she starts to retract
I AIM-- I SHOOT--
BANG!
My breathing has stopped but I'm not aware
My ears are ringing
Do I run and hide do I start screaming?
For death I do not know and everything is now so slow
Is she just sleeping or can I hear her weeping?
Mama where are you? You were just ten steps below but you do not show
My sister must be sleeping a blanket will help her weeping
Gently I cover her but she doesn't seem to know
Her long brown hair now has an odd red glow
I'm only a child but my mind is going wild
My tears of fear blind me as I fall to the ground
Many days have passed me as I have grow old
but I can still remember her grave with the Angel stone.
T Reams 10th Place for my Sister Amber I Miss You
Entering contests isn’t a race
First past the post may not get a place
Don’t make it a mission
To get first position …
Attacking sponsors is a disgrace
Written after reading F J Thomas's blog AFTERAFFECTS OF HOSTING A CONTEST
30th May 2015
This world has become so depressing
cutting to the soul removing the rights of prayer
everyday listening to a gestapo styled media that tells nothing but lies
morning noon and night it speaks of nothing but misery
Under martial law pushing restriction after restriction
pandemic is the new scamdemic that poisons minds
turning neighbour against neighbour removing peaceful living
Chaos you are the virus silencing the truth from speaking
war is declared on those whom choose to live life in faith
this new age has put their beliefs squarely on a piece of fabric
God be merciful to us all as many characters have become judgemental
they talk like the voodoo doctors that support the culture of death
twisted science has no place in society attacking our personal choice
the past repeats itself only under different tactics
Liberals are not Holy
they are wolves dressed up as sheep pretending to care
this is just another exercise in abusing human rights
Winged, winking devils dance
on onyx tinted wings entice
burnt appendages so broken inside rib cage
Unable to fly out of this hell hole
a shadow lifted nevermore
a touch as cold as night lures steel cuts
knees buckle, locked down
nowhere to run from
Rusted chains tighten
each new link pierces,
digs deep the heart's flesh
not enough mercy to shred apart
desire kept it beating just
....this must be what love is
bound in arms
blinded souls cannot escape
Tormented visions
a dark cloud silhouette
spinning around the sun
ravished by chaos
an ancient evil curse arises
within shadows suffering
darkness inside embers burning
with hot pain buried inside ashes
Deeply rooted demonic forces spawn
an evil eye turns
evolving in bad deeds
capturing the innocence of the human
sacrifice
one beast of an unclean spirit
possessing love charms of a snake
coils with lust
putting a heart in chains
attacking with wickedness
Fallen angel filled up inside
hate and pride
cunningly from out of the ashes
remains a demonic lapdog
violating innocence
Soul of impurities
a shadow grows darker
in every love that is taken
unpure vessel when the eyes open
to the dawning light
A collaboration by Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
A. Anarchy
Amber autumn aflame
An aroma of ash appeases the adamant arsonist; the artful anarchist
An audacious attempt at attacking back at our arbitrary accommodations
The ascended advocate us to abide as they affirm their advancement through annihilation
An abstract artifice, artificial affirmation of all aspects
Treated like an array of aliens in our allowed acropolis with the armor turned against us
Most amused with their asinine aspirations and amaurotic attractions
A few too apprehensive to argue and ask for an alternative, afraid of any altercation
But the agitated and annoyed assemble, ascertaining truth through awareness at every angle
Amateur acts of anger arise and accelerate, accompanying their adverse assault on our amendments
The alliance ablaze and amassing, anticipating an apocalyptic ambush
Absolution remains absent and anger becomes anxiety among those abandoned
The affluent assure abolishment for the average and all under
I guess I’m more accustomed to the modern sting these days;
the one that comes by e-mail or the phone.
They might hurt the pocket with the modern scamming ways -
but Mother Nature’s stings bite to the bone.
I’m talking ‘bout a paper wasp,
or the angriest of bull-ant;
perhaps a hornet or a bee,
and that Queensland stinging plant.
I could be in the scrub casting out a fishing line,
or relaxed while I stand beside a tree
without a thought, but ignorant to a home that isn’t mine,
and its residents who start attacking me.
I’m talking ‘bout assertive spiders;
that little blighter jumping jack.
Damn mosquitoes and march flies,
and scorpions sometimes attack.
It may be every few years, but there does come a time,
when backyards need a bit of cleaning out,
so there will be disturbance that is not a pantomime,
and lackadaisical is not what it’s about.
I’m talking ‘bout stinging nettle,
or prickly pear annoying hairs.
The European Wasp and chiggers,
and white-tail spider toxin scares.
When fishing in an estuary; the beach or in a bay,
you never know what bounty it can bring.
You’ll always have a fighting fish trying to get away,
and some of them can give a nasty sting.
I’m talking ‘bout butterfly gurnard;
the torture of a sand flathead spike.
Feeling of pain after sunset,
and a victim when biting midges strike.
Some might be quite obtrusive - and some a fine-looking thing,
but they all come with a warning - I’m talking ‘bout the sting.
Living among dead corpses
My creativity becomes stagnate
As I surround myself with
Dreamless adults never realizing
Their full potential in life
Witnessing generational leeches
Attacking the mind, soul and legacy
Of an unsuspecting youth
Instead of experiencing daily
Burst of DMT in his pineal gland
He is subjected to
Buffoonery, treachery
Tricked into selling his birthright