Long Character assassination Poems
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There‘ll be black humour today,
Gentle ribbing, banter and jokes,
Stripping away of egos, repartee
Among our mixed group of folks.
Bruising conversations maybe,
But in a non malicious way.
No place for the thin skinned
That’s just not how we play.
It’s the way it’s done from
First moment of greeting
It’s our irregularly held
Veteran’s Breakfast meeting.
Just a couple of hours
Of banter forces style
Carrying each back
For just a little while
To much younger times
From a very different past
When each passing day
Could have been the last
Some of us are damaged
But none of us are broken
Some carry hurt in their eyes
From experience unspoken.
Some have seen combat
Still carry mental scars
From frontline service in
The country’s various wars
Some fought with a rifle
One fought with a pen
Each gave part of their life
As an active serviceman
The Padre’s not a Veteran
But we’ve known him years
He’s earned out respect as he’s
listened to our hopes and fears
A range of ages gathered
For a morale boosting talk,
We’ve all worn the uniform
We’ve all walked the walk
There are common experiences
That each of us have had,
We’ve been there for each other
In the good times and the bad.
It’s a meeting of brothers
And we all know what to expect,
Ruthless character assassination
But with affection and respect.
We’ll all be looking forward to,
Though not knowing when,
We’ll receive our invitation
To meet up and yarn again.
We’ll shake hands goodbye
Making the occasion complete
Feeling emotional benefit from
Our irregular breakfast meet.
.
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?
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
No sooner than we set foot within said domicile
attestation to so called gentleman’s’ agreement with guile
initially infrequently, but incessantly as time elapsed Isle
never forget (nor will spouse forgive) with rancor and rile
ceaselessly besieging, bruiting bare-knuckle skirmishes
for us to remove ourselves and personal belonging with vile
lent vitriolic wrath from the day we decamped
within hoity -toity Mainline –
our matted unwelcome would endure for quite a white.
* I * S * I * N * G
With hindsight and accumulative less cloudy fifty shades of gray,
an irrevocable clear er voyance viz summoning forth would lay
an irreconcilable rift (rivaling the Mariana), and constant nay
saying presaged an emotional price to pay
whereat we deterred sale of vintage crystal balls – our stay
purported prevented sale of precious heirlooms – oye vay
in tandem to estate sale divvied up, cuz we whar in the way.
* I * S * I * N * G
Analogous to Little Red Riding Hood, we could not see
blitzkrieg, cannonading, incessant strafe carpet bombing re:
bloody onslaught from the generation of elder vipers que
endured feeling trapped by memorabilia meant nothing to me
* I * S * I * N * G
Warfare found us hunkering down within said tract housing unit,
a fusillade fired off re: porting volleys of character assassination
bombarded this unfortunate civilian clearly implicated to whit
for being a non jewish schlemiel inducing endless economic
denigrating calumniations – fulminating against this “twit”
we decried wicked, vicious, unwarranted abuse would not quit
with no defense against slings and arrows, a plague round
of ceaseless, ferocious, and insidious pilloried that pit
pendulous injustices for each of our **** (emphatic branding
per diem me own scrawny gluteus maximus to git
the hell out – eventually hiring a lawyer with eviction edict!
Form:
DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while dry ving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before
slated him slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today
- - - - - - - - - -
Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha air brushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won!
- - - - - - - - - -
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives
toward lass sees – especially
Fox Television news anchorwoman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!
- - - - - - - - - -
I van a try to describe while sitting on me rump
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
From special interest bro and sis turn pump
He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump
Whose rants sans presidential outcome a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,
- - - - - - - - - -
That and another woman to bareback jump
Disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
The mass media as some foolhardy charade
And caricature of a frazzled grump
This arboreal clothed ape
Erecting Taj Mahal phallic symbol where players dump
And gamble away hard earn cash
- - - - - - - - - -
For his hello kitty, as if that cachet to grind and bump
Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair rum runs rampant with red bulls
In a China shop atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets
Dis eased cranial hologram
Of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.
----------------------------------------------------------
By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.
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...
They gave my character references
from a point I had never stood
Then put quotes around what they wrote about me until wrong started sounding good
Turned pauses into problems,
made my very silence sound suspicious
Then passed assumptions mouth to mouth until gossip came back official
I’ve been called cold by colder people
fake by folks rehearsing faces
Watched everybody lose themselves
just tryna keep up appearances
That’s the part that gets me most is
how quick a role becomes a name
Wear a mask for long enough
and somehow I’m the one who changed
They studied every period pick apart my commas too
The whole time dodging question marks that keep pointing back at you
Tried to get a conviction with no evidence, confidence confused for proof
Everybody tells it different but somehow everybody knows the truth
I could give my own statement
but … who would it convince?
People only cross-examine
what might contradict their own script
So let them keep the parts they gave me, villain fits me pretty well
I’ve seen saints stay in character
while still raising all kinds of hell
So quote me wrong, write me off,
and make your little edits fit
Just remember character assassination
leaves the killer in the script
And if they need a reference
to decide which character is which
Tell them check the fingerprints
because mine ain’t on that b****
FRAGILE VESSEL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poem written for and submitted to “Broken But Bold Enough to Bounce Back” Poetry Contest, Anoucheka Gangabissoon, sponsor, August 11, 2025.
They gathered like shadows,
the character assassins~
their whispers their weapons,
their glances a silent judgment,
truth twisted to fit their narrative,
a caricature of my spirit
painted in the hues of malice.
I, a fragile vessel,
trembled beneath the weighty ocean of their scorn,
wearing their lies like a shroud,
a heavy fabric,
woven from the weak threads
of fear and intimidation,
a shawl of self-doubt draped over my shoulders.
I stood, alone,
a silhouette against an invisible storm,
fragments of my name,
scattered like decayed, autumn leaves,
their slanderous stories
veiled in the cloak
of honor and integrity.
In the distance,
a Lighthouse flickered
a small ember glowing~
the stubborn light of His truth, my truth.
I gathered the shards of who I was,
reconstructing the mosaic of my spirit,
one bold piece of rubble at a time.
I took the jagged shards of my identity,
carving a path through the rubble,
not with anger,
but with the quiet strength of a heart
that refused to stop beating,
a spirit that refused
to be broken or silenced.
No longer a fragile vessel,
I walk through the world with a fierce grace
not unscathed, but
wearing my scars like armor
each one a testament, a story of resilience~
each chapter a silent statement
of soulful courage.
In the stillness, I reflect—
not on the wounds that once broke me,
but on the God-given strength that emerged,
bold and unyielding,
a testament to His power,
the Power lies in the heart of the broken.
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
There is quilt of comfort made with silver threads.
For friends and families of alcoholics, that have given
up, and just shake their weary heads.
You cannot ever on your own power save an alcoholic.
To play God~~is a pure waste of time and frolic!
Nor dare not play the superiority game.
And look down on them with puffed up pride and
arrogant shame.
You have to stop being a codependent, rescuing them.
Sobriety is gift from God, a wellness robe with a gold hem.
Right at this minute from Maine to Rangoon~.
An AA meeting opening doors to those in recovery in just
minutes, very soon!
Whilst we write about how disgusting and awful they are,
We, ourselves are not perfect, no, not by far!
We overeat, we overspend, use painkillers galore and yet?
We are blind to our own moral inventory
We get off on painting 'them' as evil, but give ourselves all
humam glory?
Children at the age of twelve attend AA meetings.
And we....we wag our tongues with character assassination
beatings.
You don't have this disease! You just were blessed not to
have the DNA to be one,so please with all meanness surcease!
You can detach from them but love them still.
You, yes you, can go to Alanon, there's a Twelve Step Program
designed just for you, just up the hill!
Alanon members grow strong beyond belief,
They share their pain, but better, look into their own lives and
stop living in endless hurt amd grief.
In Memory
Tribute to my lost husband.
Dead at 35
U.S.A Army Reservist
Brilliant, a writer, a poet, gone!
With loving memories,
Panagiota
"Serenity Prayer"
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot
change...the courage to change the things I can..and the
wisdom, to know the difference!
May 24, 2020
4pm PST
Poem # 1294