Long Affront Poems

Long Affront Poems. Below are the most popular long Affront by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Affront poems by poem length and keyword.


This Business of Kidnapping

There has been news about piracy in the high seas...
And here is news about a nefarious activity you don't see...

People go missing in action off the waters of Philippines...
And then the cat and mouse game of high stakes begins...

While some families agonise over their missing loved ones....
Going by the news, the border security patrol force was duly informed...

But this I wonder, looks like the sovereign security patrols fail once again...
With a dusk to dawn curfew in force, was there a lapse in security yet again...

Was it a case of lax security or was it a case of one attempt too many...
Border Patrol boasted it has thwarted double digits of attempts that were so many...

Is this latest affront to sovereign securty a reminder we cannot escape kidnap attempts...
When we have for our neighbours bandits who sees us not as human beings...

Catch some Malaysians, then began a hide and seek game in the jungles of Philippines..
Next is a couple of months of various seek n find missions involving the governments....

And negotiations in earnest then begins , builds up to a critical delicate point ...
For money in a few tens of millions, freedom and lives can be traded to a point... 

Should negotiations fell through or deadlines are missed, death to the victims ...
Often it's slow death by beheading under the guise of fanatical religious belief...

Hoping for religious sympathies to condone a blatant cruel act against humanity..
When in essence it was all a well disguised despicable act of kidnapping...

Treating fellow humans as human cattle to be traded and prices haggled...
While playing God and pretending to be God's warriors when talks are bungled...

Claiming every unfortunate victim's life in the name of the Islam religion...
Thinking in their warped religious fervour they are on the pathway up to Heavens...

These terrorists, they can be no other, terrorise the international community...
With such blatant organised crimes of inhumanity with such impunity...

Maybe vigilante squads in the Philippines is the final solution....
Thousands of drug peddlars and merchants are dead by executions...

Looks like therein lies a possible solution, storm the dense jungles...
Cash rewards for vigilante squads killing terrorists in the jungles....?


He Had Not Meant To Drift

He had not meant to drift
Yet he could not avert the dreaded nature of his anarchic days;
The craven, inebriated nights wherein all manifestations of Time
 Slipped away from him.
 Yet memory remained entrenched in the sensibility he sought to dull
  As did the cruel actuality of his youth, a negation.

   He was not as gauche, nor as ugly as he feared,
   And even, in his better days,
    Not as handsome as he wished.
    He was a hybrid entity, splintered at the nucleus,
    An estranged dark, stoic thing,
    And the intervention of others upon the isolate continuum of a self embellished
    In an unameable lattitude
    Solidified his existence to a fate that was never his.
    For Narcissism had been his fatality, and he knew it,
    And he had never meant to be an affront to God.

     Still some amorphous presentiment, which emerged, then retreated,
      Impelled him to nourish whatever innocence remained in him,
      As if that  cruel malady could  be ingested, assimilated, dart through
      The air into his trembling hands
       If only he could coerce his muscles into consummating the task.

      A response to a certain common loss
      Compelled him to frequent one particular deviant tavern;
       A "brother" is what he said he needed so desperately to find;
       How essentially insipid he must have been to believe that " a brother"
       Could be found in that dank, windowless chasm.
 
       Rendered ill, towards closing time,
       He wondered which had succumbed easier to the whims
       Of the foul wind that encircled him-
       Was it soul, or physignomy,
        Or was his Nemesis the streets, which he hit like clock-work
        Moments before this days death,  and dawn.

       There was no plan to his existence;
        He simply went with the tide, however frenetic, the moon
        That made it dance,
         Such was his Life,
         An atrophied thing,
          Remotely adherent to his quest before his corruption:
         To acknowledge, even in the most solemn silence,
          His inalienable right to be as he was.

Premium Member Nearer My God to Thee, Be A Cross That Raises Me

The hour matters none ... for the energies have exhausted.
In the year of our Lord ... nineteen hundred and twelve, April fifteenth.
Writes a future living star ... wish their joys so he may shine.

'Tis to be a deliberate endeavor ... they call life.
An unaccountable ledger of sums ... know he the worth of it.
For in that great beyond is an opened book ... ere his youth.

There'd be certain measures that wretched body ... once unmasked.
Natures of a retired validity ... that aloof vainglory.
Tarries an elusive shell ... the semblance of human sorts.

A cub sponged in denizens hound ... the spoils of settled earth.
Masques of the poor scores yon ... and indifference spared them from their kind.
Their pain slices him whole ... in this grand finale of truth.

The role he crawl from under ... frees a den's claimed orphaned cub.
He conformed to their ways ... indulgence begets an awakening.
De-sands a timepiece from Giza ... transforms the silent lamb.

Qualities of Osiris ... no longer foxes kinsman. 
Without manipulative truth ... mainly defines reality.
Loss crept e'er so close ... as circumstances affront him now. 

The iniquities ... recorded in that hallowed ledger, 
He lay claim to its authenticity ... 'twas him who'd inflicted;
upon those who were of wickedness ... and the righteous few.
 
He included self ... in self-afflictions of great numbers,
wherever the blame may lie ... be it concerning his existence, 
thereupon points those sharpened fingers ... deserving of it.

Repentance for his sins ... subjugated through crying eyes. 
His life for another ... sans a name or a face in lieu of tears. 
They shared the deafening silence ... two muted distinct smiles.

One in tears looked onward ... to a face of blessed assurance.
The last boat edges off into the dark ... desperation arose.
A great clamoring ascends ... into the bitter abyss.

The hymn, "Nearer My God to Thee," ... the chaos stops to song.
Ships officer calls out, ... "Abandon ship, every man for themselves."
Lost lamb hopes his roll's called up yonder ... as his last words read ...
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Sijo

The Revered Reverend Martin Luther King Junior First Part

Five score minus eight years ago
January eighteenth two thousand twenty one
father of civil rights movement
the revered Martin Luther King Junior honored
as benevolent demigod figure
to the oppressed African American population

without whose bold risks
and subsequent brutal assassination April fourth
ninety sixty eight at the hands
of a crazed gunman (James Earl Ray),
whereby all the King's men
and all the King's horses...,

still aghast at tragic event
while reverberations felt forty two years later,
where embedded white privilege 
begets continued racial strife
analogous to uncorked raging tempest
saddling people of color to human bondage

(no matter ponying up excellent equestrians),
nevertheless wrought empowerment
advancing cherished dreams
of slaves recent descendents
allowing, enabling and providing
once attainable aspirations
only bestowed upon

the self anointed masters and early settlers of
the virginal North American contiguous land mass
yet…generations prior
to this prestigious public personality
Abolitionists pitted themselves
against the institution of slavery

incrementally raising awareness
regarding the abomination
forced servitude incurred on those shackled
thus setting the stage
for this grandson of A.D. Williams
a rural parsonage,

who ministered spiritual support
for the small congregation
(initially only thirteen members)
comprising attendants at
Ebenezer Baptist church in Atlanta Georgia
setting precedent for freedom

(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,

(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned

eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology

Who Am I and Who Are You

Who are you, my Lord?
And what am I standing here as a weather-beaten tombstone,
O Lord, reveal yourself to me on the tombstone standing here alone.

Long, long ago
Cain averted his face from the light,
the condemned river, surrounded by a dead 
Cain laid atop of his own brother, flows into the valley 
carrying the curse.

And the condemned river flows to the dark side of the sun 
since the time Abel’s blood cried out. 
My eyes grew so accustomed to the darkness
and, thus, though I am no longer able to stand in light,
I face you, the Lord of the origin of light, 
standing here as a tombstone.

O Lord, are you the very person whose voice I hear?
are you the man who is rolling and tossing on the ground
under the out-pouring lashes who moans:
“forgive them,” each time I call for aid of my destiny?

O Lord, are you the one who crawl on the path 
that leads to the Place of the Skull
in the mixed air of cries as the fools shout,
mockeries of the evil ones affront,
and the useless tears the women shed?

Are you the one who mutters: “forgive them,”
while falling under a rootless tree
for the weight of the tree is too great to bear?

For the good nature of humankind is numbed 
by the weight of sins too deep to break loose.
The emotion of human kind becomes cold and cruel
and, therefore, O my Lord,
do you groan with pain unbearable:
“forgive them,” when those stone-hearted drive spikes
pierce your hands with no compunctions?

Are you the one who stands as a decaying wooden pillar
on atop of Golgotha with a darkening sun on your back
to close the shamefully-mistreated hard life,
the miserably-humiliated painful life?

Are you the benevolent kind-hearted one who looks up at heaven,
and at mobs who accused you, appealing with tearful eyes:
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

When the wooden pillar collapses from its own weight
and darkness falls onto earth to cover the unsightly world,
I, the tombstone with no name or epitaph,
see a sad image standing atop of the Place of the Skull
tightly holding the world’s anguish.
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member This Is Mine, All Mine

This is Mine, All Mine                                     by Chuck Keys

Fall day, perfect, 
Sunny brisk alive.
Filtered rays of sunlight. 
Shimmering through semi barren trees
Almost skeletal 
Scattered blown leaves
Patiently waiting their first winter freeze, 
So - very serene, calm, barely a sound,
A bird or two chirping
Sounding lost,
Looking about ready.

There, a small sparse bush
Proudly showing a tiny new green innocent bud, 
Nonchalantly waiting about. 
His chance to grow, 
Fading with shortened cooler days coming
  
On the trail, my dog, 
At my front, back and
                                      … side, 
Protectively jumping, sniffing, flying, yelping
Majestically prancing about and over,
Manly pawing his ground, 
Feeling heat from 
The October daytime warmed earth
Dried decaying broken leaves of time fading,

     In motion, 
     Wind behind his gate,
     Cantering soundlessly but hard, manly 
     Racing airborne paws; 
     Panting with passion, drooling in chase,
     Soaring gleefully effortlessly in-flight,
                                                                       ... off the ground 
                                                                       ... leaping high, higher, highest 
     Endlessly into the wilderness, 
     On his ground.  His movements
                                                           … echoing, uncontrolled.

     The tamed beast; driven as ever,  
     Head locked rigid aimed forward, high, tongue draped aside out
     Eyes opened squinting into the wind, starring affront
     Nose twitching alive on fire in hunt, 
     Tail erect, straight as an arrow on 
     Legs in sync with one another, together
     Body pulsing as one, muscles taught,
     On guard, with pride and ownership.
     He stops, panting eyes piercing, 
                                                          … side to side, front to back
    "This is mine, all mine" ... he says
                                                           ... he says to his daddy.
© Chuck Keys  Create an image from this poem.

Trying To Access Mine Excel Lent

Trying To Access Mine Excel Lent...
Pow War Full Pointed Outlook

As I ponder what to write
today august thirtieth
      two thousand eighteen,
     thy ploy doth in vite
a gamut of spontaneous thoughts,
     that loosely cluster
     before becoming tight
lee bound toward

     quasi definitive agreeable, amenable,   
     and attainable in sight
with no deliberate intent
     to suppress perspective
     couched asper left of political right,
though mine embedded
     liberal democratic ideology
     automatically shifts, gingerly
 
     escorts, inherently focuses,
     and understandably dodges quite
unconsciously, naturally, and expressly
     viz zit ting orientation trained mindset
     spiked railroad ties to follow
     a NON "FAKE" conservative track,
     cuz existential plight
of this run of the

     NON mill (let) airy night
owl hoot trumpets,
     thru his pen chant
     pedantic laden poetic might
(albeit gently modest) 
     with artful badinage,
     garbage, and persiflage light
nsync with his (my) being,

     an aspiring good (rook key) knight
calculating, formulating, intuiting,
     where to shine
     his (mine) figurative jacklight
asper shying away
     NOT to antagonize
     predicated on me
     humble extrasensory insight

drawing, distancing, and detaching
     metaphorical grip,
     sans innate bias height
end from lifetime
     steeped within progressive
     (forward thinking atheistc) paradigm,
     hence impossible to adopt
     a totally tubularly neutral

     point of view presents avowed challenge
     to present opinions of yours truly
     without instigating a verbal
     and/or virtual gunfight
boot hoop fully friendship,
     asper attempting tubby forthright,
and apologizing for
 
     any stinging backlash
     if accidental affront,
     thus encouraging healthy
     discourse without excite
ting vitriolic, toxic,
     and/or dramatic dogfight
with this cat tug gar rick cull
     poet hood dont bite!

Who Are You ¿

Who Are You ¿


What can you see of you
When everyone around you
Only sees the worst of you

When they are addicted to the weakness
Which plays to their ego

What truth of you
Is shown you

In the guise of love
They drown you

Does their habitual then become you
Does it fit
All that you see is the useless me
The troublesome
And to much trouble to be
You

What else can you see of you
When everyone around you
Only sees the worst of you

They convince you of your ineptitude
A platitude which describes
You
And never looks further into
The you
They have created
The you 
They take for granted

They are too comfortable
With heir impressions
Way too sure of their interpretations
And so self serving in their conclusions
Label you
Lets them use you
And easily
Abuse you
Without a thought or moment of conscience

And the great big wheel
Rolls
To its own great big circle
You listen
You accept
And in the end
Become what they said
Was true of you
And they have the affront to call this
Love

Who’s next in their game of self-embellishment


……………………………………………………………………………….. but


Perhaps 

You would like to see things from a different point of view
See all the love
And all the beauty
I see in you

Perhaps

You would like to see your strength
Your courage

Maybe

You would like to see yourself worthy

Eminently you are

Perhaps 

You would care to see
How I have seen your struggle
With a tender heart
And gentle hands

That others would curl to fists
In the face of their demands

Maybe

All you see of you
Is what they want you to

Maybe

You are far more
So much more
I am sure
That like a wild stallion
They seek to restrain
For the fear of discovering that they
Are less
And you

You are so much more

Perhaps 
Someday

You will see the lies 
For what they are

Perhaps
Someday

You will look at yourself
And see yourself through my eyes
All the love
You really are

Premium Member Three Celebrities Went To Heaven

In twenty three, we waved goodbye to much celebrity
But in the clouds the welcome party takes them three by three
Tina Turner, Jerry Springer, Mister Donald Trump
(Of which, one is poetic license; please don’t get the hump)

Before the Lord, upon their knees, they had to state their case
And detail what they did to benefit the human race
The Lord had seats, one on each side, to help him rule the sky
And now he sought two occupants to give consul on high

The Lord looked at the first arrival, she looked rather proud
And rumour had it that she’d always been a little loud 
The Lord said, Woman, tell me why these seats on either side
Here on my left or on my right should be where you reside

Tina Turner said, Dear Lord, I used to dance and sing
Your angels will all know the joy and love that that can bring
I had some upset in my life but fought with all my might
So I’d be honoured to sit with you as a guiding light

The Lord said I admire those with strength to fight the fight
And so you may sit in the seat positioned on my right
The Lord turned his attention to arrival number two
Okay, Mr Talk-a-lot, so, why should I pick you?

Jerry Springer said, My Lord, I find this slightly odd
I doubted in my wildest dreams I’d face questions from God
Yet, here I am enduring this admission interview
But from that seat upon your left, I could interview you 

The Lord said, Hmmm, I guess you would be upset and bereft
If I didn’t offer you this seat upon my left
But there is still one candidate for consul in the sky
So let me hear the testimony of this other guy…

Trump said, ‘Look, it’s great, so great, it’s really really great,
I kinda thought I wouldn’t be here till a later date
But since that pawn star mowed me down as I walked in the street
At least I get the chance to tell you… 
That you’re in my seat!


[Regret.., had to miss-spell p.o.r.n. because Soup is becoming an affront to the English language. ]
Form: Rhyme

Addictive Ampoules Annihilate After Alluring

amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages 
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault afoul 

affable affinity and affectionadumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly 

Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed 

albeit admonishing, alluding, 
and attributing authored 
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents 
accompanying as accomplished accomplices 

accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating 
appositely advocating ancillary assistance  

addict adrift afloat anchors away
along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration

against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite

acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable

any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted

alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant

acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.

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