Ink spills, stains the name,
Whispers sharp, like poisoned darts,
Reputation bleeds.
©bfa042325
Does my PTSD gets in the way of my character by
Unknown and recognized faces in any situations to
neutralize my energy? Because of someone 's else
Pre judgments, forced opinions, making false
deliberate spoken assumptions with slandering, personal
attacts. My character Assassinations
My feelings seems If I'm trapped in someone's else box
of how I should verbalize or how one portray me as one
see fits. My Character Assassinations
If the tables were reversed how would the assassinators
feel? My Character Assassinations
In a letter curt and bitter cold,
Words like ice, sharp and bold.
A missive wielded with willful disdain,
Dismissive of all warmth, maliciously slain.
Lines etched with callous pen,
Rejection sealed, again and again.
No comfort found, no writer even to scold
Just echoes of a preposterous tale untold.
Dismissive missive, harsh and clear,
Leaving wounds that never disappear.
Yet amidst the chill of its embrace,
A glimmer of strength, a tiny trace.
For in the face of unwanted rejection,
There lies within, a resurrection.
From the ashes of disdain's abyss,
Rises resilience, a defiant kiss.
It is not Trumpism that marks
a Conservative, the way I see it
Rather, Trump actually did some things
that we wanted
As the Deep State opens it's
assassination kits
and character assassination pulpits
While those with the integrity
to do what is right, will be so hunted
Making America great again is not a radical idea
I suppose for its fallers, it is a bridge too far
A call to arms and propaganda
So what will happen next, Civil War?
Did Mad Max also live in his car?
Flaws people whose bones,
Lives in glass houses should not
Be throwing stones.
The pen is tidier than the cord.
A garrote provokes an unsettling gurgle
That reverberates in the midnight hour
When one is trying to pursue a guiltless sleep.
The pen, however, resonates
With an uncanny mystic harmony
That allows the comforting lullaby
Of literary reprisal to carry out the hit.
Character assassination: a cowardly villain’s vengeance.
How do you correct someone whom is in serious error
even when evidence and facts points to the source of truth
such a narrow vision looses all credit sitting within judgement
Lacking knowledge it lacks wisdom to hold a discussion properly ordered
painting black as white speaking from the heart and soul of understanding
what sense of well being supports the tongue of deception held in account
curling words to suit an inner agenda which becomes borderline hard to fathom
To try and justify acts of aggression they blame the Gospel as standing in condemnation
correction is a hard article to swallow when it comes to pride admitting guilt
character assassination deliberately killing words that sit against the grain
The finger prints of such actions deliberately ignores respect
it pushes with hate an agenda riddled with lies corrupted by vice
Rain falling
Wind blowing
Snug under the duvet
Four heartbeats and just a moment from sleeping
Thought about murder
Had no motive; no reason
Needed not an opportunity; nor means
Four heartbeats and just a moment from sleeping
My feet were warm
My bladder was empty
The alarm clock was set
Four heartbeats and just a moment from sleeping
Just a thought; about murder
A thought about a perfect murder
Thought about appearances, juries and judges
Four heartbeats and just a moment from sleeping
I wasn’t ill-intentioned
No wrongs on my mind
Snug under the duvet
Four heartbeats and just a moment from sleeping
Thought about the election
Character assassination
Losing gratitude
Suddenly sleepless; under the duvet
If I was your poem, with my soul left wide open, by your words
Would I be blessed by your pen, or be wounded by your swords
Would you lift me up, or take your chance to then cut me down
Sail me across an ocean, or let me capsize and as left to drown
My life would be in your hands as written within your own lines
Would I recognize all the innuendos be able to see all the signs
See all the characteristics; that I would otherwise be blinded to
Would I have a better understanding of myself and all that I do
Or better still, would I then have a better understanding of you
Of a character assassination, and a picture of me that you drew
Would I . . .
The time has come to damp down gridlock and polarization
For the country's citizenry to treat each other with basic decency
To stop resorting, at the slightest offence, to righteous indignation
The time has come...
The time has come to stop shouting and screaming, to restore civility
To stop finger-pointing accusations and character assassination
To stop the invective, the slander, the libel, and to act with dignity
The time has come...
For leaders to get off their soapboxes, to cease the endless bloviation
Not to promise 'free everything,' to promote fiscal prudence, feasibility
To acknowledge the populace's apathy, to lift the veil of total frustration
The time has come...
At what point will the past bury us,
Taking control of the bus,
So, life rushes past us.
A flickering picture show that bruises our ego,
With guilt having nowhere to go,
And the last bus a distant glow.
Hate resurfacing for us to pass on,
Showing us a two-dimensional view of those long gone,
With character assassination heaped on.
At what point will we run out of air,
Having gone too deep to hear,
From the present up there.
Our future now clear,
No machine yet capable of bringing us up for air,
And those who we left behind see their future elsewhere.
This message I hope,
Will stop you from being a dope,
And give you time to shorten your rope.
i have came to
the realization that
through out
the years there has
been a steady creation of
mental defamation
character assassination
misleading slander
perpetuating false
ideals to continuously
replay within your mind
concerning you and I
Hourglass
It’s time to speak. You can’t stop me now.
Words spoken to the world you had forbidden
Spill from my mind to the page, I am free.
You all thought you won, at character assassination
And chasing me down with cars, as I went on the run.
Now I speak and forever behold what God has given me.
For you didn’t know he was there, watching.
Giving me strength to survive the torture, the pain.
Giving me everything you couldn’t when I stood alone.
Still today more powerful than ever in these times.
God guides me where I need to be with my eyes open.
You didn’t know. Well, this is what will be your falling.
To face the things you have done.
To face the lies you have spoken.
To face all that you kept hidden.
All the while thinking I would do what you told me.
I have the strongest armor protecting my soul
As you hold hands with the devil, still today.
Let me tell you, there is no denying, there is no escape.
Your actions are sifting through the hourglass.
Heidi Sands
Try your best I don't care
Use all source, I am rare
blame me or defame
or play a dirty game
threatenings
warnings
Character assassination,
or physical attack
Neva gona harm
I am truth
I am consciousness
I am righteousness
I am soul......
& soul never dies.
#ßiki
Sometimes I wonder how a butterfly
feels, as it struggles to get out of its cocoon;
beautiful, majestic, and radiant.
I also sometimes wonder whether God
sees my soul as a butterfly, trying to get out
of the cocoon of old ways and stagnation;
scorn, belittling, and character-assassination
making my soul to get out of its old shell,
finally radiating on my face and weight re-gain...
Date: 28/07/2015
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