Best Traumatised Poems


Premium Member Ukrainian Senyru

SCARRED FOR LIFE

children are screaming
they have the thousand mile stare ~
traumatised for life

TEARFUL GOODBYES

at the rail station
dad's hug their wives and children ~
say goodbye with tears

GUTLESS COWARDS

cowardly russians
indiscriminate firing ~
a mound of rubble

MEN AND WOMEN OF HONOUR

proud ukrainians
their bravery unsurpassed ~
russians retreating

HARBINGER OF DOOM

sounds of the cities 
the wail of air raid sirens ~
herald deaths approach

LOWEST FORM OF LIFE

lone women and kids
predators and peadophiles ~
preying on the weak

PERVERTED COWARDS

men and women
stripped and humiliated ~
russian physchopaths

ANSWERING THE CALL

non ukrainians 
International legion ~
help fight aggression
 
MASS MURDERER

visions of grandeur 
twisted ideologies ~
vladimar putin

AN HONOURABLE MAN

the man of the hour 
president vol zelensky ~
stands with his people

UKRAINIAN STATE FLAG

bright blue and yellow 
a symbol of defiance ~
flutters in the breeze




WRITTEN 30TH MARCH 2022

Premium Member The Lowest of the Low

You may see me out on the streets
Lying curled up in a foetal position my sleeping bag in a shop doorway
Trying to get a few hours sleep here in my latest home in cardboard city …
I never stay more than a few nights in one place
can never really settle; these streets aren’t safe

You may see me out on the streets
I’m sitting on the cold damp pavement with an empty coffee cup in my hand 
Hoping for a coin or two so I can have some real food in my aching belly
Still you hurry past, trying to avoid making eye contact…
Believe me, it’s so degrading rummaging in the litter bins like a wild animal
But some days it’s the only way I can get any food to eat

The biting cold and wet weather is my worst enemy
I can never get warm even when the sun shines
This is no life, just a way of surviving another day

Guess you think I’m a waster, a dirty tramp
You walk on by; judge me without knowing what lead me to life on the streets
Bet you think I’m a druggie or an alcoholic
I guess most people seem to think that
They see my filthy clothes, straggly hair and grey beard

Just five years ago I was like many of you
I had a career, a beautiful wife, and two lovely children
Spent many months away from home fighting for my country

But then I got sent to Afghanistan…
I saw scenes no man should ever have to witness
I was traumatised
Forever suffering flashbacks of the faces of those innocent people
The children, oh those  children – made me think of my two boys back at home
I couldn’t cope any more, had a total mental breakdown

I was a broken man … 
My wife could no longer deal with the mood swings , the erratic behaviour
The Army did little to help – 
discharged me on health grounds, then basically abandoned me
Now I’ve lost everything … my wife, family, my dignity

Many of the people you see on the streets are like me …
We all have a story to tell, but no one gives us the time of day
Passers-by avert their eyes and hurry past like we are invisible
Your eyes may tell you one thing… but please don’t judge me
Because you don’t know me

Premium Member Tears For the Children of Ukraine

On a square in Ukraine in that war torn country
Over a  hundred strollers are parked, but they're all empty
The children no longer need them because they're all sleeping 
And those painful cries that you hear are their parents weeping. 

Young innocent lives taken, who could do such a thing? 
Their parents denied burying them, because of the bombing 
Pure evil is at work, inflicting death and misery 
All because Ukraine wanted to keep, her freedom and sovereignty. 

The blood of children is on Putin's hands and one day he must pay
The west should ensure he'll face justice and we must find a way 
He is the epitome of pure evil and the devil incarnate 
And I hope for crimes against humanity, he'll suffer a similar fate. 

Children still living are shell-shocked, too traumatised to cry
Witnessing acts of extreme violence and seeing people die
We know who the aggressor is, we know who to blame
How does he sleep at night?, hasn't he got any shame?

He's now getting desperate as he's threatened to go nuclear 
In the hope that civilised nations, will pull back in fear
Does he honestly think that we'll scare easily 
Yes, Russia has got nuclear weapons but then so have we. 

Two wrongs don't make a right, it's often been said
But we must do more to stop this unnecessary bloodshed 
The world must rise up against Putin , we must make a stand 
Or it won't be long before the aggressor invades our land.




Written 20th March 2022.


Why - Genocide Contest

I lay in my hospital bed after giving birth, Could hear the murdering, raping 
Hutus approaching my bed
My baby was no more. They ravaged me.  Left me alive...........
Could hear the battle getting nearer
All I was worried about was my mother,  Home alone...
My husband was away was he fighting, Was he alive......
Clutching my dead baby staggered towards home,  The smell of blood filled the 
air. Then I saw them,  The valiant Tutu's,   Fighting for us.  here and now
The sound of machetes   clashing together.  Limbs flying through the air. Like 
boomerangs.
The screaming ....The misery.......
When I staggered home.  Found Mother in the water butt.  Hiding from the 
savages.  She was alive and ok.. So traumatised
Many twisted bodies on the ground.  Dragged them into a pile, trying to 
remember who they were.  To keep a record , for posterity.  Poured paraffin over 
them and cremated them. Praying for their souls
We buried the baby in the hard red earth. Couldn't cry, had no tears we were.in 
shock......
Date was April 7th...
So tired, we slept.  Hidden from view...
I am alive, my heart beating.  Yet I feel dead.  Dead inside....Why I ask myself.  
Why is it happening....God only, knows.  
Why?......


Penned 22/08/2014 for the Genocide Speak for the Lost contest.
I used 100 days slaughter of Rwanda.





You can see the skeletons of some of the twenty percent of the tutus that were 
killed,
Can see the open mouth of the cry of pain. They have been kept. A reminder to 
the future generation
April 7th is called Genocide Memorial Day, the week following is a national 
mourning week.

Premium Member Freedom's Fragile Chains

Overcrowded prisons,
brings joy to early released criminals.
Taxpayers may be happy,
but there's predators at playgrounds,
rapists at bars,
stalkers, stalking,
violent hooligans back at matches,
abusers contacting their exes,
jealous lovers beating new spouses.
Mobs on the streets,
will only bring mayhem,
unless vigilantes rise,
whilst the police hide.
Who will protect the traumatised victims?
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member If I Have Time

If I have the time I’ll clean the kitchen
then tidy round the rest of the house,
I’m due to see the vet with my pet mouse ...
Ted’s lost his fur and he can’t stop itch’in!

My little pet mouse Ted I just adore
I’ve had him since I was a small child,
alas his itchy skin is driving him wild -
he’s shedding fur all over the floor!

I carry Ted in his cage when I visit the vet
and Ted plays happily on his small wheel,
Vet’s hand enters the cage - he emits a squeal
when he gets bitten by my traumatised pet!

I mop up his blood, then hold Ted in my hand
as the vet examines his scaly red skin,
He pokes and prods much to Ted’s chagrin -
if he can be cured it would be so grand!

Vet gives Ted a shot and applies some cream
then presents me with an enormous bill,
the medication works well, Ted’s no longer ill
and his fur’s grown back just like a dream!

If You Have the Time for an Enclosed Rhyme Poetry Contest


Sponsored by Tania Kitchin

12/23/19


Premium Member Unreasonable Reasons for Fighting Dragons: Off Planet, Exiled


"Unreasonable Reasons for Fighting Dragons: Off Planet, Exiled"

I could write something beautiful for you,
like outside the windows
the raindrops slide off tips of green leaves
there are tears like pearldrops falling
onto moist lips like ripe rosebuds 
hints of myrtle lemon that the tongue licks
like sticky marshmallow fingertips sweetly glued
softly placing a bookmark, between pages.
we should stop there for the night, before bedtime, 
because bedtime is where love waits impatiently 
for all manner of things, 
like daughters immersed in all their removed seasons
reflected in unreasonable reasons 
for fighting dragons in their imagined labyrinths 
I cajole you, I proffer 
that the very first love you will ever know
has prickly barbs like a bee that stings 
and sticks deep in the skin like supersedure, 
n.b. for hives, use Royal Crème, 
and the preceding Queen bees 
take an unaccustomed back seat,
sipping thoughtfully on honeyed 
words and mead 
in that tricky place, 
where their children once played
and now those daughters
are the superseding 
Royal Queens;
they are without doubt 
the strongest in this case, 
immortal paramours 
and whilst their doppleganger stance 
is terribly traumatised and competitive, 
the archives, I have learned 
as chief librarian in this place,
in grounds most territorial, 
must be handled 
with speak easy kid gloves,
insert the softest lambs’ wool here -

black sheep
all of the above



Candide Diderot. ‘24

Tomorrow Is Ours

Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.

Premium Member -A Young Life Taken

~In Honour of……

~Stella Berry a 16year old girl who passed away from a shark attack on ~Saturday 4th of February 2023 in the Swan River at North Fremantle,
~ Perth, Western Australia.


Sixteen with a life ahead
Went to the river with friends
Sadly now she is dead.

In the river having fun 
Riding a jet-ski
Her life ended that day before it really begun

Off the jet-ski to the water she jumped in
When she saw a pod of dolphins
Close to them she wanted to swim

Terrifying screams filled the air
The water turned red
A predator had attacked from nowhere

Tragedy struck that day
Death and trauma occurred
In the most horrific way

Words cannot express the sadness felt
For this beautiful young girl
And the unfair , tragic card she was dealt

Her family and friends distraught with pain
Their lives changed forever
Never to be the same

The state of Western Australia is mourning
For a sixteen year old girl named Stella
Her life just ended without warning

So many lives traumatised , changed for evermore
One decision made …..
Stella’s loved ones will never be as before
© Deb M  Create an image from this poem.

Rise Up Black and White Children

Rise up  child, 
Rise high.
It is time to ignore the existence of racism  discrimination , antagonism,  tribalism and  xenophobia on earth. 
As It is hard for you to change some people who hate the truth. 
Stop playing victim to favour others, 
Correct your small mistakes and challenge them face to face with truth. 
There are no big liars who can stand when their lies are exposed by the truth. 
Focus on your heavenly duties and ignore  the intimidation of demonic spirits which are surrounding you. 
Uplift the neutral golden flag higher, 
Play neutral between the nations  of ancient conficts which turned to racial silent wars on earth. 

It is time to expose lies, 
Time to wipe out tears of millions of people who continue living in fear , 
                                      With pains, 
                                     traumatised. 
The sun is shining bright from  high place
Look at the  sun morning, midi and the  evening 
You will understand your mission on earth.  
It is a hard  task reason why  you continue witnessing many  challengers here and there. 
Just go, 
Keep going, 
Going on the  earth 
It is  hard to get  credit  from some people who made you their enemies because of  their secret agenders. 
Your being so good and  kind will always sound bad to them,  as their final decision  is to always  see you under their feet. 
Fire and Water are not friends but both two can kill their innocent  people whenever they want to prove their powers. 
When you visit the territory  of carnivores,  do not knock for six when you find the skeletons of their love ones. 
When you go to any  graveyard,  do not flabbergast to find the graves of some people who were killed by some friends, relatives , neighbours and colleagues innocently. 
Majority of the  world politicians and business people dont have  mercy whenever they feel  money or  powers disturb   " interesting  deals interrupt ." 
It is so sad to tell you that but it is the naked truth about some systems of this  cruel World. 
Carnivores eat herbivores and other carnivores . 
It is none of your business,  
Don't interfere their businesses, 
Continue to speak the truth to help them change in the future.
I thank you. 

March 17/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris

Heavens

The heavens opened up for him and the rain began to pour
They took the lives of many good, thieving more and more,
And traumatised so many are suppressing all the pain
From colonised craziness and wickedness, the same.

Everyone needs healing from all that they were taught
Suppression will be surfaced from brainwashing of thought,
And time again we’ll see it all the remnant of the wheel
If we do not recognise the damage done and heal.

Though saying all won’t bring them back to us where they belong
Tremendous is the grief from others dealing wrong,
I understand though confused by what they think they'll gain…
To thrust upon another mere misery and pain.

How can they walk proud and tall whilst emanating evil?
They brood they're doing right when raising such upheaval?
Now needed time to knock a few of them from their high horses
Withstanding ill imposters to strengthen natural sources.

Black is black and white is white hence why the controversy?
Righteousness must prevail, justice, grace, and mercy,
Responsibility enforced to prevent the rain 
Where heavens open up for us before our time again.

Penny - Beloved Pet Contest

She was pretty,
So adorable.
This little bit of fluff
Suddenly arrived on my doorstep.
Thin and scruffy,
So hungry,
Beautiful copper coloured,
I called her "Penny".

This traumatised cat
Used to run up the curtains
In fright.
Hide behind doors,
Pounce on my dog,
Who was petrified of it
he weighed 35 kg,
Made him a quivering mess.

In a few months Penny
Grew to be a lovely looking cat.
Always fighting,
Could hear Penny coming 
All the cats were on Penny alert.
Penny developed this big abscess
On the face "battle scar ",
Off to the vet.

Guess what Penny wasn't a she,
Penny was the randiest Tom in the area.
I had never looked at its working parts,
Penny stayed small and so pretty.
Kept the same name ,
Lived to a grand old Age..

Postcript From Palestine

Dust descending
fills my ears and nose:
small stones loosened from the soft rock
bleed our faces and our arms......

the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sound of this cellar
the rumble of this cellar
the body that lies in our arms

Why are we smothered like rats in this pothole
lying in the dark, shaken with fear
teeth trembling on the volcano?

We have no light in our darkness
no light in our cities
only the fire from the bombs of our neighbours.
They have flattened our power, our water, our sewage
the roads that bring food to the market
the exit of refugees
these bombs of out neighbours.

the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sounds of this cellar
the rumbling of thunder in this cellar
the body that lies in our arms

They bomb us on the beaches
for democratic decisions.
They have a hundred of rockets, American planes,helicopters and radar
to our small retaliation

the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sounds of this cellar
the rumbling of thunder in this cellar
the body that lies in our arms

For one prisoner
we have lost the power station, our light, our lives, our peace;
death comes to mothers and children on the beaches, the schools, the market place
traumatised, maimed they kill us.
They will not overturn our decision- it stands.

Dear Mother, I would come to you
we have no aerodrome- here or in Lebanon.
Your grandchildren I would bring to you
I would come from my democratic country only for them
but I am stuck in the shower of dirt in this cellar.

Not Afraid Part 3 Draft

So I wrote this rhyme just for me,
to ignite self belief, 
and get me out of this sea,
I'm a swim the sea 'til I reach the sand,
wet the desert 'til the plants grow grand,
'til the storm clears up,
and the grass gleams up,
I'm a march toward a life I succeed.

It's the indecision that's stopped me and a lack of belief
sabotage my existence got me gritting my teeth
A new leaf it's time to reach deep down beneath me
time to pay my parents back for all they did
show 'em I've grown and I aint stupid

I'm trying to self inspire and spark some life into these wires
'cus though my tries fail know my tries aint in short supply
so however traumatised I'm a stay wise

I'm under a landslide but I'm digging a tunnel
and I'll never allow the day that you see my funeral

I'll funnel out the self doubt from now on
I'm a man up and I'm a be strong
They'll be no more excuses allowing the useless
I'm a treat this depression ruthless
and remove its presence with no hesitant movements

I won't lose or run in circles
I won't hide in shells like turtles
I'm a square up and give it hell
I won't let this failure finish my tale
I'm a put depression in a coffin and hammer in the nail

I won't drop or stop
I'm obsessed with reaching the top
because the lowest depth didn't cause death
and I'm still taking in breaths
so you can scoff at me oftenly 
but I swear to God nothing aint stopping me!
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

Moving On

Moving on is what they all want to do,
But the victims can't because they are too traumatised,
Or their bodies too damaged,
Maybe even worse, with all contact in this world severed.

The parents of both victim and perpetrator too desensitised,
With too many questions unanswered, 
And lack of sleep leaving them broken and demoralised.

The perpetrators may seem pleased,
With no consequences formalised,
But with no help for getting over what materialised,
While taking drugs and alcohol unsupervised,
There is little hope of them being satisfied,
When, if they have not overdosed,
Or spun out while driving disqualified,
They find they have reached an age that makes them terrified,
That jail will be specified.

The police are mortified,
That the rules prohibit any solutions being applied,
Which means no one involved,
Is able  to move to a place where sleep is uninterrupted.

Meanwhile those selling the drugs that the waters muddied,
And those who see no harm in shifting the focus to health related,
With no thought being debated,
About the fact that those selling the drugs are not interested,
In their health being bettered,
As they make a killing out of lives being shattered,
Are moving us all to an even darker place, that is more blood splattered.

Are we that unimaginative,
That we cannot find a way to use our initiative,
And find ways more positive,
So, more of us can live,
Without taking drugs more prescriptive,
For our sleep to be less disruptive.

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