Best Raise Hell Poems


Premium Member The Things That Boys Do

Boys do boys BREAKS toys.  Knick knack paddy wack. Give. A dog. A bone.
Some say the things that boys do are wrong and even more wrong still.
Pushing a go cart up a steep steep hill. Wrestling down steps and falling. 
Breaking bones. Being home alone.  Fire crackers one two three STOP spitting
On me.
REPEAT  REPEAT  REPEAT
Boys even when they're right they're wrong. Boys are strong.  They are 
Triumphant on mix martial arts and wrestling night. They need a place here in 
SOCIETY.  They need their own show and tell month.  What week? What's a week?

Fighting through one trillion trillion jeers.  Not wanting to show their fears.
                           THE  MEDIA  COMES THE  QUICKER
Fearing vulnerability boys are nothing but the brunt of solid steel with DIAMOND
Spikes.  Many boys are MELLOW but spell  WE  DO RAISE HELL.  Some might 
Think boys do things for SPITE. Such as staying alive? Or flying a kite?
Boys but when dark is night stay inside.  At DIFFICULT times they fight even when
They're right thinking they are strong. MAYBE they are wrong?  

Wrestling tearing fisting clenching cursing spitting stomping reaching for his own 
Fate. Suffering alienation and hate.  What he wants he gets one way. (Sparing no grace) or another.  All in all in all. Some boys walk a CHALK line and are fine.
In the light of the life of things this is how it is. Boys are STRONG. They go long.
 THE MEDIA THE CONDEMNATION THE VILIFICATION:  Boys are bursting through malls tearing down walls shooting guns on the run. 

Nothing but boys will be boys. Nothing is truth until it is seen through the eye of a boy
Keen. Gangs, tussles and physical rebuttals. There those tails wagging of puppy dogs, 
Yeah boy! You got SWAGGER you got sway. Football gear and baseball cards yeah all
Hard. Make way for shooting hoops hanging on stoops

TRACES OF MANHOOD TO DATE. BEEN NEVER A MAN WHO HASN'T BEEN A BOY.
ENJOY!!  GOOD FATE!!
Form: Prose

Premium Member Diary of a Mid-Life Wife

Bites of frost fierce;
iced words did pierce
flushed flesh, soft soul
chilled as you stole

youth of my life,
long lived your wife.
We wed; blissed days
blest till your craze.

Mid-age, your mess
lust for me less,
as thrills I gave
you now don’t crave.

My angst for naught
in knots of fraught
tight twist my mind,
your grit does grind

strewn tears from eyes
pain’s gems your prize
plash at your feet
my dirge does beat.

Our love I mourn
my rose your thorn,
once in sweet bloom
lies’ stench does doom.

Sprung from spouse cage
red town's your stage
to soothe your doubts
raise hell, nude bouts...

go chase young things
can’t stop your flings
we’re done, I know ~
snowed neath cold woe.
Form: Rhyme

The One

One day, I hope it will be easier. 
One day, I hope the pain will subside.
One day, I hope that hole in my heart will fill.
One day, I'll be by your side.

I hope that day comes one day my brother
You're not upstairs of that we know.
I know you'll be raising Hell my brother. 
Anyone who knew you will also know.

That one day I will see you again my brother.
See that you are still the same. 
And that day when I see you again my brother.
Maybe that day will ease my pain.

For now in this life I have my thoughts my brother.
Laugh at the the things that you did.
No matter how you left us you are still my big brother.
You're big Knoxy, my brother, Wor Kid.

Sleep well and raise Hell my brother.                                                                                  Sleep well!!!
Form: Epitaph


Father-In-Law

(This is a fictional poem)

My father-in-law is so old that his first friend was Barney Rubble.
When he comes to my house, he causes nothing but trouble.
I can hear him coming when I hear his old bones creak.
He pees all over himself every time he tries to take a leak.
He tries to get my wife to leave me every time he comes.
He eats all of our food and then he gets drunk on my rum.
When he visits, he gets mad and raves and rants.
I want to see the look on his face when I put a lobster down his pants.
He's coming over tonight and I'm going to break a lot of his bones.
I'm going to raise hell until he leaves me alone.
Form:

One Step Ahead of the Best

You walk on me like a sidewalk 
And write on me like chalk 
I go blind just seeing you talk 
My teeth are numb from hearing you walk
I’m caught in your vision
In the crosshairs of your indecision 
Like a shadow I’ll lead you when it’s chilly
You’re a snow tiger, a white lily 
Letting your lips light up this city
Ready to fly away like a kite when it’s windy 
I’m trapped well within your throwing range
Surrounded by landmines and incoming grenades
Your aroma ignites scented candles
This fire is more than I can handle
Empty beach, bare feet, and no sandals
Run over me like bulls ready to trample
I’m a target and you’re so insightful 
So let’s see how good you’re really are with that sniper rifle 
Plane from the beach to the lake
Like a priceless vase about to break 
Your style is too good to be fake 
6.a.m, like stolen pearls you’ve gone to sleep and I lie in your wake
I’m stuck in a rut of indecision to give or take 
40 million ways to die and I get bit by a charming snake 
In a fit of happiness we have but one life to live
And you’ve given him the most precious thing you could give
Angelic wings, a devilish grin, and a story with more holes than a sieve 
Lie to someone else who can’t tell when you fib about your sins 
Shut up listen, let me finish, I’ve come back again ready to win
In a losing a battle to a stabbed back, busted lip, and broken chin
Is this your way to raise hell when the heavens fell yesterday? 
And with nothing left to lose, axed back, you ask “why not wish it all away?”
I didn’t think I would come back, blue and black, to a see another day where I lay 
betrayed
Have something amazing erase my face, spit out the taste where waste remains
But before you speak, and think I’m weak, let me show you something unique
I never fell but stayed on my feet, having you beat by keeping the promise I made 
weeks ago in my speech 

So now you’re dead to me and I’m dead to you
Do you remember what I said to you?
No matter how far you are… I’m one step ahead of you
Form: Rhyme

The Wordsmith

"The Wordsmith"
by:  Eric L. Boddie

You only Live once, so do what you choose
He Gave us Free Will....so it's your Life to lose
How is your relationship with God?
And I may not be a Saint, but God Knows I Try
Because He Always Knows The Truth whereas man will tempt you with a lie
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you whose task
Is to promote negativity, I ask
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who will smile in my face
And talk about me in another place
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who go to church on Sunday
And raise hell way before Monday
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who never have a good word to say
Who don't realize that the devil is having his way
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who try to point out my flaws
Who act as if they have never broken His Laws
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who think they are better
Than any other because it was God Who Put us all together
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who think they can Judge
When That Is Reserved For The One Who Saves Souls With His Blood
How is your relationship with God?
He's Coming Back people....it might just be tonight
How much time is left......right!
How....is your relationship with God?
Please....Pray for me....as I Pray for you....


One Bad Apple

"One Bad Apple"




Soft cool-aid breezed in
wielding her sharp peeler
skinning the first apple

Boss girl 
begins.

Stewed apples 
slowly eaten 
swallowed, taken in

One way out. 

Boss girl
begins. 


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm




"Raise Hell", Dorothy
https://youtu.be/cfKPobjPZSE






“She does not want the world
to tell her how to live her life. 
She does not want the world 
to put her into a category. 
She will smile even when 
not all is good with her. 
She will believe 
what should not be. 
And she will dream wild!
She is a bird. 
She just wants to fly 
in the wide blue sky!” 
Avijeet Das







“I am a strong girl
Someday I will win the world
Yes I will smile in the wrong time
I won't do what has to be done
Or what the world 
supposes me to have done
I will just do what I want
Drop out from crowd
Pretend to fall where I don't
Smile even when not all is good
Believe what should not be
Dream wild
Look observe and not harm
Coz I just live
Let me live
Don't put me in a category 
or a class
I am as light 
as a glass
This world 
this beautiful world
Oh how complex
has it been made by us
Just look at the bird
soaring in the blue sky
Does it even care
Does it even care?”
Suyasha Subedi 







"My muse is my daughter
My strength is hers
My muse is my mother
Her strength is mine
My muse are my sisters
My strength is theirs
My muse is my soul
Our strength is eternal"



















"I roared, I rampaged and I got bloody satisfaction".
Kill Bill

Excerpt, Script, Kill Bill 2
https://www.ivanachubbuck.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Kill-Bill-2-Bill-Bride.pdf








artist/artwork: Rose Freymuth-Frazier
"One Bad Apple".
https://www.freymuth-frazier.com/

We Were Heroes

for that moment
in the rush and heat of the crowd
under the television cameras and brilliant lights
there was camaraderie and purpose
there was the beauty of belonging to something bigger than
something grand and bright with promise
stood shoulder to shoulder against the powers that be
made the man back down
comrades in arms shouted the chants
held the line
for that moment we were heroes
we were heroes
but now a swift year has flown by
and the struggle no longer makes the five o'clock news
the cameras and crowd is gone
but you linger
because you want it all back
want to hold the line shoulder to shoulder one more time
chant and raise hell for the cause one more time
we were heroes
heroes
but its all faded
down to loud rebels in quiet coffee shops
down to the faded glory of 'remember when's'
and old photographs
(november the fifth)
© Mark Junor  Create an image from this poem.

Note By Note

Sophisticated, but mentally endangered, he's sharp as a razor
Intimidated by his own mind, until his pen forms a sword and defeats his paper,
Categorized by society, given the label of a thug,
Found guilty of innocence, cause he was born into the slums

He killed the beat with metaphors, and invisible rhymes,
the autopsy uncovered nothing, the alphabet was his genocide,
Take a look inside, and find nothing, cause I'm nothing, so in the beat is where I hide
So as long as I'm alive, I'll run into this notebook in broken times

He walked this trail of tears, and he's lost in broken rodes,
Stumbling over writers block, as his thoughts hide inside his dome
Main characteristic is that he refuses to be a statistic,
The possiblities are endless, because dreams are what's realistic

He was born to raise Hell, but he rose to drop bombs,
Material defenitions of the welfare he was on,
The knight in shining armor, he was undefeatable when he wrote,
So he defeated his enemies, beat by beat, and note by note
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The President

Dear President Joseph R Biden,

I know I’m about to raise hell~0h well
I can’t go on without celebrating you, as you can tell
If they didn’t know me then, they’ll know me now
I’ll stick to your plan—that we can all make it together somehow

I dig you when you stand up for yourself and say
C’mon man, go ahead make my day!
Is that your best Clint?  Because I’m in like Flint!

Although your polls went down
And people paint you as a clown
They criticize you—The man of words—and your fitness
I am aware of all the good things you’ve done, I’m your witness

You avoid conflict; you are there to discuss
So, I too will keep my promise for all of us 
To be the new and proud arbitrators
And to let go of the Anayalators
            
  ~      OF PEACE    ~
 
I pray, I Implore thee 
I depend on your sage diplomacy
To keep us away from—World War Three

For Presidents' Day
Written 2/18/22
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Violent Acts of Rage

"Violent Acts of Rage"

Written by: Rodney Riggins


Power within to demolish what's
in front of you tearing away what's
been inside you for years. The beast is 
alive because your soul has died
and your hatred takes control of you.
Killing is so easy America display
it for action and you wonder why 
there's murder while others do it
for satisfaction.

Some may have been beaten on
molested or bullied some may 
have wanted to be violent but
didn't understand it fully. What's to
understand when your pissed you
want others to feel your pain some
use drugs to go through with it
they use this as the blame.

Me myself have Violent Acts of Rage
I'm no different than real killers
I just sympathize what they go through
to them it's easy to pull the trigger.
I blame no one for my thoughts 
because they are mine I create many
obstacles before me it's just only
a matter of time.

Anger creates chaos murder is 
death we all have thought of 
violence but haven't reached
that step. It's easy to raise hell
and say what your going do action
speaks louder than words when it's 
your turn what will you do?
Form: Verse

Daydreaming

Desire 
Coursing through my veins
Infecting my brain
Drives me insane

I'm feindin' for those uppers
I'm feindin' to get down
I need to feel that ecstasy
That overwhelming sound

I'm cravin' me some instant death
I'm asking to raise hell
I hear my familiar shallow breath
That comfy, cushioned cell

I need to feel my insides out
I need to taste the pills
I feel the love and that's no doubt
That wretched, lovely taste that kills
© Alex Brown  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Self Inflicted

We have mentally drained our emotions into the world around us 
Causing our own commotions then get mad with what surrounds us. 
We lack to feel for those that we see have less. 
We slack and oppose for what we think is best. 
We tend to take from a pot that is not rightfully ours.
We tread lightly with the truth, but listen to lies for hours. 
We get bombarded with the ways of the world, yet we aren’t teaching boys how to treat girls.
We are leading the youth to the worst of ways; we take no responsibility for the paths we’ve paved.
We raise hell when our child is wrong, as we defend them.
We teach them that laws are in place, but there are ways to bend them.
We want our voices to be heard, but what we say is empty. 
We are portraying a message that is disturbed-- 
      we are killing ourselves, to put it simply. 

We have too little knowledge and exceeding pride.
We feel so comfortable on this roller coaster ride. 
We watch the turmoil that is of this world, constantly run its loop. 
We don’t take enough time for ourselves to just sit--
      and regroup.

We have troubles and pains and we are losing our loved ones.
We don’t see what we can gain if we would just become one. 
We have fought off those that have offended us, but we haven’t confronted the evil thoughts that run deep within us. 
We have come to some reality that we are just humans. 
We don’t see the totality of what all the ‘just’ is ruining.

We cannot become one when we are constantly separating ourselves. 
We cannot become whole when we ignore our inner self. 
We keep following the trends of things that hold no value. 
We sleep cowardly to no end and buy all the dreams that they are selling. 
We don’t look in the mirror to see who we really are. 
We look at some reflection as if we are too far--
     to reach, to teach, to redirect or speak. 

We have lost sight of what it is to love. 
We don’t feel the connection, so it’s easier to run.
We get off-track; thinking we don’t need anyone.  
We have blocked out what it is to have compassion, we take routes for our own personal satisfaction. 
We keep thinking this way, we will never be united, but together we will fall.
We just need to become one and together we could have it all.
The ways of the world, seem so wicked
Overbearing thoughts--
     self-inflicted. 

2/1/2016

No One Is Safe

The suns shines,
Yet the rain pours mercilessly
The angels sing harmoniously,
While the demons raise hell
The moon proclaims peace,
As the meteor destroys the earth,
No one is safe, from the desolation
No one is safe from the devastation
For years we used you like a tool
For years you were dormant an quiet
There is no peace for the wicked
There is no peace on earth.

Mad Anthony's Masterstroke, Part I

In May of seventeen seventy-nine
Henry Clinton was having a hard time,
so tired of the rebels still fighting,
had to somehow get Gorge Washington
out of the looming Hudson Highlands,
and then force the war to a final ending.

He marched his army to the north
meaning to shut down King’s Ferry,
threaten West Point and draw them out,
determined to up the ante,
no nonsense was he to bandy,
his men took Stony Point.

With the King’s Ferry now block and closed,
across the Hudson supplies couldn’t go,
Washington found himself in a hard place,
with a foothold beneath the Hudson Peaks
the British now could his main camps seek,
he could not let himself be displaced.

From atop a nearby mountain
he saw the British were building
abbatis and gun emplacements,
with scarlet the point was filling,
he knew that there’d soon be killing,
he would retake Stony Point.

But then the British made a mistake,
trying to set bait Washington would take,
sent Tyron to raid towards New Haven,
but Washington was not a damned fool,
he saw what they were trying to do,
and in the Hudson Highlands he remained.

Drew up a new plan of attack,
then Mad Anthony Wayne he called,
a general of temper and great skill,
they would see the British fort fall,
the garrison their troops would maul,
they would take Stony Point.

See when the British had fortified,
they had forgotten the river had tides,
and that a beach would soon be exposed.
It was a long shot, but one they would take,
if they could get behind the lines would break,
so only the best troops were picked to go.

No bullets would be in their guns,
stealth and steel would be their choice,
the only way they could be sure,
detection they had to avoid,
there really was no other choice
to penetrate Stony Point.

Wayne then split his forces into three
to face Britain’s seven hundred fifty
and sent Murfree to face the center,
his job was to raise hell and distract,
while to the north Butler’s troops would track,
from the south Wayne’s main force would enter.

At midnight they would all attack,
Under cover of the deep night,
white papers were stuck in their hats,
so they could see who not to fight,
bayonets set to stab and bite,
they marched for Stony Point...

CONCLUDES IN PART II
Form: Epic

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