Long Aggression Poems
Long Aggression Poems. Below are the most popular long Aggression by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aggression poems by poem length and keyword.
There is too much fear in the world these days,
Fear of the unknown, scared in soo many ways!
Phobias of spiders, mice, rats and bats,
Are you frightend of nothing? Why are you scared of that?
Scared of oppression? And the way they use aggression?
Are they messing with your head, using psychic suggestion?
Wrestling with your doubts will only lead to fear,
Always looking into shadows.. scared that something's always near.
You're winding yourself up! There's no reason to be scared,
But it's never as it seems.. so you'd better be prepared.
Because if you're feeling fear, it could be.. you're not ready,
With your trembling legs, and butterflies in your belly.
It's not so strange, that lots of people fear pain,
Being boiled alive, with needles stuck into your brain,
You've got to be careful, I'm afraid to say,
Be quick to make your mind up, to fight or run away.
Would you fill your pants, with a gun to your head?
Now, that's REAL fear.. you could be dead, enougth said!
Some could find your nerves and make you scream for weeks,
They can teach you about pain and how it reaches new peaks.
But the ones like that.. are fearful too,
Of justice, revenge, and the human rights crew.
They should be scared! I wanna see their faces white,
'Cause they even kidnap kids and slip away into the night!
Now I'll get swept away, as it floods from me,
See, some of these emotions, are as deep as the sea,
Some wanna get a gun, and hunt these sick suckers,
And get them on their knees and say PRAY MOTHERF%%%%%!
See this is the crux.. this is the bottom line,
If they catch you doing that, then it's you that's doing time,
It's never black & white, it's not easy to see..
There are so many fears, it's all part of being free.
Are you scared of the dark, because that's how it began?
Are you scared that it links you to the earliest man?
Who had to hunt to eat, had to kill to stay alive,
And did what they had to, so this race could all survive.
The things to be scared of are the things inside,
You can struggle and fight, but you can never run or hide,
So walk down the street with your head held high,
And face down fear.. because we're ALL gonna die!
But the opposite of fear though.. is to be brave,
Who knows how many lives you could save.
The futures unknown, and we all face change,
It is all just a part of being free-range.
Bone-drained, there is no respite, no split second of peace. The “sundowner”, a hyper-active toddler in a man’s vehicle, never sleeps nor sits.
When I succumb to that one precious moment of rest; I am awakened to a furnace running full blast in a freezing cold house and on a nineteen degree night. A butter knife has removed a window; the culprit and dementia-mind panics; he’s terrified of being trapped in a fire. There’s no arguing with dementia-mind; it’s best to play along with the his ideas.
Another day of madness and I awake to a frantically screeching doorbell; it’s his nurse. I've revived in the floor. A migraine faint pulled me down; I’ve had no sleep for eight nights, you see. Sweet respite…she says she’ll, “sit with him”, so I can lie down a bit; a pleasant miracle; such happenstance is a rarity.
Dementia-mind has no solutions, only hallucinations, delusions; absence of mind and aggression for the “sundowners”. I watch at breakfast, as he pours his milk upon the floor; he has no clue of what he is doing or why;
he stares, mindless. When the eyes go blank it’s obvious; he’s not in there. A robot gone haywire, used to be my Father. The last thing to go, were his mathematical skills. Dementia-mind has forgotten so many people; how to swallow, but recalls numbers…
“Who is that man?” he demands, pointing at himself in the mirror. My exhausted mind briefly forgets and I mistakenly reply, “You dad.” The firestorm is initiated; he calls me a, “liar”. Self recognition has failed him now; the flame of his mind is burning low; soon to extinguish.
He’s fed and dressed, but I’ve no time to eat; if he should sleep an hour today; I must cook for the week. It’s the only opportunity I have…when and if he sleeps. I must not go to the bathroom; he’ll break something or fall. I must hold myself until my sister arrives.
The “passives” are painful to watch, as they deteriorate, but the “sundowners” are constant exhaustion. I was in the ER, almost as much as, he. You see, there’s no one to care for the caregiver, but themselves and when they can’t, exhaustion and malnutrition escalate. Dementia-mind is round-the-clock work and two doing the work of six people, takes its’ toll. The disease never discriminates; it destroys everyone.
(My Father died with dementia, a form of Alzheimer's in 2003, after a 15 year battle.)
Upon the lakes they do swim gliding so effortlessly
These species of graceful waterfowl the largest of anatidae family
In their beautiful pure white plumage with elegant long curved necks
Blunted beaks and big webbed feet living together by water's edge
These magnificent creatures of the waters are a sign of purity and love
Remind us of the blessings in our relationships a gift from heaven above
If all goes well in there pairing they will stay together for rest of their life’s
When they glide upon the waters of our awareness they bring us deep insight
These birds of Mother Nature they’re exquisite and unique
Bearing exotic waves of beauty to our dreams as we do sleep
They swim around in our divine mind adding colours of delight
Encouraging us to spread our wings and take our glorious flight
Courting occurs on rivers and lakes throughout the known world
Whilst they live on plant life tiny fish and scattered bread as well
You might see them duck their heads as they feed upon their foods
But you better beware of their aggression whilst they protect their broods
The elegance of these myterious birds are displayed in a ballet dancer
Dancing into our emotions with their romantic artisticpower
Transforming our souls with delightful moves bringing us into harmony
With a brilliant performance of balance, control and technical flexibility
The beautiful dying swan pours its heart out as death draws near
Greeting this with an exceptional beautiful ending balladeer
Its modulated voice singing the swan-song of death so sweet
This harmonious sound can be heard as its last creative piece
The crown retain the ownership to all unmarked mute swans
A ceremony takes place once a year and lasts for five days long
Swan upping is a tradition dated back to the twelfth century
Markers row up and down the rivers paying tribute to the Queen
In England they’re a protected species and owned by Her Majesty
The wing spans on these wonderful birds can extent to several feet
These sacred aquatic birds male and female cobs and pens
Those little cygnets and swanlings on a swan lake that never ends
© Copyright KC.Leake
8th December 2014
All Rights Reserved
Why weren't any of the great emperors, or even those of lesser renown, enticed to acquire such a rich piece of land in the East? There aren’t much of historical archives shedding light on the subject, but it is possible that events could unfold in this way – Plutarch could have expounded this legend far more colourfully than your humble servant. A Roman emperor receives an ambassador from one of the eastern countries, who inclines him to conquer the neighbouring land. The Emperor finds the plan reasonable, so during the conversation he decides to invade the eastern lands of the barbarians, in particular to prevent their possible aggression against Rome. However, the problem is that the climate in these lands requires fur garments; otherwise, the valiant Roman legionaries would think only about how to get warm, hence will be unable to fight. Our country, the ambassador reported, are ready to solve this problem, they can sell the Romans excellent fur coats, for a small sum of money. However, the sum seems exorbitant, and the emperor refuses the ambassador. The next day the emperor is informed about the envoy from the barbarians, and he receives the barbarian in his chambers. I am aware of your intentions, my great emperor, says the barbarian, and I am prepared to arrange a deal on fur coats at half the price offered to you, as you can buy the required amount of fur coats directly from us. Although I myself am a barbarian, I have a Roman mentality, my great emperor, and I sincerely wish you to conquer our lands to establish your Roman law and order over there. When I read your laws, I just cried with happiness, how much justice and wisdom they conceive. There is no need to drink wine, just read a page of your laws and I feel groggy with delight. I'm sure all the powerful barbarians will accept your rule without question and praise your wisdom in their prayers. So, shall we make a bargain, great emperor? ‘No!’ followed the cold reply. 'I refuse to make a deal, and I see no point in wasting energy on conquering your lands. Once we conquer you, we will gradually become as conniving, vile, cynical, and vengeful cunnings as you are. That is not the future I want for Greater Rome. So get out, Mr Barbarian. Thank you so much for your wisdom and time, my great emperor, the barbarian says. You’ve given me exactly the answer I expected to hear.
SafeHome is not so much a real place
as a destiny longed for
on our lifetime journey toward dynamic well-being,
too healthily robust to fear growing homeless and friendless.
SafeHome is not an unchanging Paradise,
statically without resonantly changing,
slow-turning nutritious seasons,
ups and downs,
ins and outs.
Such conservative stability, uniformity
could never be my red-blooded idea
of brilliantly resilient Heaven.
So, when Earth's climate pressures,
internally and externally competing
to my point of ego-aggression,
notice chronic stress climbing up my back
and shoulders,
brain stem and frontal cortex
concerned about politically left and personally unself-righteous depression,
When cynicism about never ever loving enough WinWin RealTimes
RealTalk
Real cooperative integrity walks
into co-passioning solidarity,
Then my SafeHome destined child and parent voices
prefer WinWin economic ecological sanctuary
removed from WinLose habitual habitats,
dissonant stuckness
never ever feeling like healthy SafeHome resilience.
Homes resonantly sustained
First, by dynamic cooperative resonance
with all EarthTribes
occupying compassionate health vocational preoccupations
And, Second,
actively seeking sanctuaries cooperatively facilitating,
feeding,
watering,
fueling resilient multicultural nutritional development.
HealthyWealth SafeHomes
plant and harvest socially compassionate
interdependent health-resonant relationships,
polyculturally resilient,
spiritually and naturally polypathic, nonsectarian,
democratically positive energetic, dynamic systems
forming SafeWombed
flow-functions,
universal inside survivor memories
of cooperative sanctuary, originally outside warm wombs
From SafeWombs
emerge WinWin infants, then young and free children
who become WinWin parents and teachers and gratitude preachers,
eco-listeners and ego-speakers
longing for compassionately cooperative SafeHome returns,
pilgrimages toward universal solidarity,
unitarian SafeHome interdependence.
A long strong ZeroZone SafeHome
for robust reunification
within EarthTribe graced communions, healthy
green cooperatives,
permaculturally wealthy
deep learning lifetimes
for green STEAM educational placements,
safe ZeroBalancing carbon-based residencies
in WinNature-WinSpirit learning civilizations.
As you walk through the corridors of life, its highways and by-lanes, the
back-alleys and well-beaten trails, through lush jungles or the arid scorching wilderness you pickup tidbits or sometimes gems of wisdom at the unlikely places, from the unlikely people, sometimes very much alive and present, sometimes from long dead and forgotten.
you learn from parents
and more so from peers and seers,
life teaches better.
One thing I learned from Jesus Christ is that you have to carry your own cross knowing full well that you may be crucified on this very cross – sometimes you have no choice, sometimes you have to do it for the good of the people.
Prophet Muhammad taught me that when a revelation dawns on you, embrace it zealously. If you have enough people believing in your perception, you have begun a new creed.
Moses taught me that you don’t have to tread the well-trodden path. You can cut across the wilderness and still reach the Promised Land.
Buddha taught me that a state of enlightenment can only be attained by renouncing physical and material yearnings.
Mahatma Gandhi made me see the futility of war and aggression. You can bring down a mighty empire just be a wooden staff in your hand and wearing nothing but a loin cloth.
Mother Teresa made me realize that you can live your life unselfishly, working and caring for others and still make your life a success and fulfilling.
not of the heavens
nor of any astral plane,
faith is of the heart.
Nowhere is taught the skills to live a life. You are not born with an instruction manual. No one can fix it for you if you screw it up. And you cannot return it and get an instore credit. You cannot put it on lay-away. You cannot exchange it for another if you don’t like the one you got. You just got to make it work good for you by yourself.
But these bits of wisdom comes much later—at the tether’s end of one’s life,
when we have already put too many miles on and the seats are all worn-out and the dashboard all faded and dusty. When the brakes start screeching and squealing. When the engine starts making funny noises and the radiator begins to leak…
a life-long process
salvation lies in one's self…
seek none but thyself.
He's got a big ego,
he keeps offending people,
he scoops the same scoop,
and round and round we loop,
until the bubble pops
and the world sees him flop,
reject the rude,
deflate your ego,
swearing kills the mood,
you able?
I'm getting too cocky,
I could outbox Ali,
wrestle with The Rock
reach the top and stop and mock,
ego full of stock
forget the tick tock
because I'm 24 7
until I get into heaven,
insomnia beckons
and amnesia threatens,
bend rhymes like Beckham,
dunk punks like Jordan,
the mental perfection
with its rhyme injection,
about to live the lesson
of the ego outstretchin'
the limit it can flex,
the crux, the critical,
I rhyme the old skool
and wear hip hop shoes,
I hate the mumble flop
with the words unused,
it's just ear abuse,
on the loose,
with no use,
it's noise with no excuse.
I suspect that this project
will impact and inflict,
sick tricks, and then retract
and evaporate back
to the gods intact,
before it's redirected
to another level head,
who wrecks and blows it,
crash the car,
went too far,
you go from feeling cool,
to a sample of your stool,
that big head
now gone and the face left red,
baking big mistakes,
taking punches from a heavyweight,
David doesn't always beat Goliath,
cometh the hour,
cometh the coffin,
you can't stimulate with coffee
because the heart stopped beating,
the soul is set free
and this world you're leaving,
beaten down with ease,
lying dead and bleeding,
how's that big ego?
You still offending people?
One hand holds but the other can't reach,
near rhymes aren't real rhymes
and sand doesn't mean a beach,
but if you find the flow,
find a way to wined the cable,
then transmit clear and stable,
and accurate like a machete
you'll rhyme like a line of spaghetti,
but with deadwood on your lead
and at ease in your bed head,
because it feels so easy with an ego,
then know it wont make a good show,
so put your feet on the ground
be aware of how the words sound,
leave behind the prima donna
or become another gonna,
stop the passive aggression,
or accept a massive regression,
fill your minds storage with knowledge
beyond the college,
there's always more to learn
and more wood to burn,
big heads remove themselves
when they burn their own shelves.
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
Americans, Algerians, Australian aborigines,
Corrupt leaders of the world involved in illegal activities.
Bloodthirsty bullies brazenly bombing bystanders,
Militaries full of corrupt army commanders.
Charities for children, carers in communities,
Third world countries deprived of equal opportunities.
Doctors, dentists, drugs, disability and depression,
An angry generation full of negative aggression.
Evil egotistic eejits entering elections,
Profiteering politicians with the right connections.
Foul mouthed fools fighting over fossil fuels,
Crooked government clowns creating their own rules.
Greedy gangs gambling, goons glamorising globalisation,
A sad and unfair planet, full of frustration.
History of horrific holocausts, hate crimes, hard times,
Skull and bones, secret societies, illuminati hand signs.
Isolation, intimidation, immigration, inaccurate information,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki still suffer from radiation.
Judge and jury, jam-packed jail cells,
Relentless rebels not doing it for the medals.
Kalashnikov culture, killers keep killing,
The reality of climate change is extremely chilling.
Lame loud mouthed liars living in luxury,
Corrupt politicians should be in custody.
Microchips, machine guns, military madness in the Middle East,
The rich get richer while homelessness continues to increase.
NASA, NATO, new world order, negative nonsense,
Celebrating Columbus Day, do they have any conscience?
Outrageous organisations occupying oil fields,
Double dealing leaders involved in shady deals.
Pitiful pessimists publishing pointless propaganda,
While aids and malaria increases in Uganda.
Quality over quantity or quantity over quality,
An overused phrase that’s used too commonly.
Radicals rallying, ready for revolution,
Air, water, soil and radioactive pollution.
Sick, sadistic sinners selfishly selling slaves,
Fredrick Douglass must be turning in his grave.
Terrible terrorists taking over territories,
Religious beliefs still creating enemies.
Unconscious unkind useless United Nations,
CNN plus Fox News equals bias news stations.
Various victims viciously victimised,
Deadly missiles falling from the skies.
Wars, weapons, whistles blowers on the World Wide Web,
While others sell their souls just to become a celeb.
A man should first know his own strength,
what it is he can and cannot do,
our physical power is no small thing,
use it wrong and you’ll be truly screwed,
they’ll take everything away from you.
But on the right job, or in self-defense
it’s a boon that can make all the difference.
A man should know that he has to work,
that without it there’s no dignity,
that hand-outs just put you on a leash,
make you someone else’s property,
for them to move around endlessly.
To truly be free, you’ll have to labor,
earn the respect of yourself and your neighbor.
Man should know of his nation’s past,
what it cost to get where we are now,
the good and the bad, and who sacrificed
to give us the life freedom allows,
not all folks with this chance are endowed.
It is our duty to see it live on,
to not do so would leave our children wronged.
A man should know to carry a knife,
and to own and use a firearm,
to know the when and why of such things,
in defense only should he cause harm,
or if hunting food down on the farm.
But trusting to fate will leave a man dead,
you must have the tools to hand evil its head.
A man should know how to spend his money,
how to plan ahead and make a budget,
and to put aside for the unforeseen,
it always hits when your least expect it,
and a killer lies within large debts.
It’s not just cash, it’s hours of your life,
things are easier when you spend it right.
A man should know that human nature
is something that’s never going to change,
and all who think they’ll ‘remake’ the world
as either childish, evil, or insane,
their ideas end in nothing but pain.
Treat people as the mixed batch they are,
at least then you’ll have the chance to go far.
A man should know that women are built
different not just in body, but in mind.
Each sex will have its natural strengths,
and we play to them all the time.
Given our aggression men will find
use in restraints from old chivalry,
no matter the protests of the feminazis.
A man should know how to be sincere,
to be honest in his life and his work,
to hold close to a firm code of honor
so as not to devolve into a jerk,
but to still remember how to hurt,
because if you can’t, if you have no backbone,
then you can forget a life that’s your own.