Long Offensive Poems
Long Offensive Poems. Below are the most popular long Offensive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Offensive poems by poem length and keyword.
I am tired of concentrating on hate…it’s so malignant, painful and distressing
on top of that it’s offensive…draining and depressing.
So today I’ll take a moment and from that topic I’ll be shifting…
to concentrate on love…it’s much more comforting
much more joyful and uplifting.
Think of all the different kinds of love there are in life
that emanate from our one heart
a variety of love…with each one playing a different part.
Remember the moment you first fell in love.
how your insides seemed to rearrange…
and how from that one moment…you were forever changed.
Think of all the people who make you light up when you see…
your partner, your children, your friends, your pets…your family.
Think of all the the foods you love…
Just thinking about them can make you beam…
Chocolate, bananas, cookies…pizza and ice cream.
Think of all the wonders of nature you love…
Rainbows, sunrises, sunsets, butterflies and bees
the ocean, flowers, ladybugs, dolphins, clouds and trees.
Think about your favorite color, hobby, favorite cereal…
your favorite art…
your favorite TV show or movie, favorite car
a song you know by heart….
This is just the tip of the love’s iceberg
What if…out there in the world are many, many more…
What if there are as many kinds of love
as there are grains of sand along the shore?
Then…when we concentrate on love…
when love in our hearts abounds…
We are ready to discover…
all those other loves in life…still waiting to be found.
Lately I’ve been wondering
What is it that brings up conflict
In my life.
I know it’s karma, the inescapable
Flow of effect from cause
But I don’t know what or when
That karma is.
The effect though reflects the cause
And that is enough to know.
Lately, only in the past few years,
My karma has been to receive slander
To be uncharitably misunderstood
And lied about,
And to have a slightly lynch-mob mentality
Break out amid former friends,
Acquaintances and neighbors.
The effect is to feel outcast
And to want to yield to the flow
And go to the realm of outcasts
At least in my mind.
In my body I still resist,
Still defend my land and home
And reputation in whatever small ways I can.
But that doesn’t mean I understand it
Or even accept it.
The temptation is to go on the counter-offensive,
But what’s the good of that,
Fighting the flow of effect from cause
Trying to right a wrong
When everyone involved has their own web
Of karma, holding, supporting and binding them
In their own tangle of lies?
Maybe the way through
Is simply to be through
With playing the game.
Not as a petulant child, taking their ball home
But as an old man too tired to get involved
Warmed and softened by the Sun
Resting just beyond care
As the sound of children patters in the background.
(8/8/26)
My life was heading into an infernal pit of passion.
I am inebriated, sipping your juices like a fine wine.
Infiltrating your body defenses with my offensive weapon.
My hands take control, scanning every contour.
In need of psychological evaluation.
I am a maniac, a lunatic in need of your drug.
Your body is my shrine, praying to you for all time.
Ignited hype, our passionate tunes,
rhythmically sensual, our movements in unison.
Journeying toward your loins with my imagination roaming.
Sex, not only. Perfection, I'm hexed.
Now, I'm far from lonely.
My name is officer Pickett, your body is my jurisdiction.
Patrolling your perimeter, my every intent to please.
Your beauty manifests and becomes this portrait embedded in my mind.
Like Michael Angelo and Leonardo Divinchi,
your body is art.
Spending a life time critiquing your imperfections.
In sexxtions.......
Jared Pickett
10/29/09
Asavvy1
White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
On the green grass i stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As i hear the groan of the injured
Many dead and maimed
Grenade pin pulled
Bunker window we lob
Hands sweating
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash with shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
I turn to my brother, to signal its safe
As a shot rings out, in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
As i open my eyes, and turn to my son
I see what i had, as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As i remember my brother
Of whom, i was so fond
I proudly walk past, salute as i go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find my self fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
Satan is the hater of goodness and Holy Books;
He roams our earth to snatch souls with deceit...
can you recognize Him behind beautiful looks?
Many have lost their life to lust,
greed, vengeance, murder and envy:
will you be the next one in tumult?
Creators of offensive lyrics and demonic music
have made Him their obsolete Master...
are you worshiping Him and turned frantic?
He will not influence my thoughts and words,
because His ways are the ways of distraught...
I'm freed from deception and false lords.
Satan is the hater of goodness...
look around, His influence is seen everywhere:
in the Visual Arts, posters and ads.
Will we be His devoted followers...becoming His puppets?
He wouldn't be happy to lose that fierce battle
against God and the believers He can't manage on strings.
To the people of the earth, we convey this greeting.
We are quite anxious for this long-awaited meeting.
Coming in peace, we are your cousins, as once before.
In a few hours, we’ll be reunited once more.
You will recognize us; our appearance you will know.
We see the sun we once shared ten million years ago.
The planet’s orbit remains between Venus and Mars.
History is forgotten, but we remember ours.
Our first arrival was with the great reptiles roaming.
Something happened, and we could not save them from dying.
Your entire world was completely warm and tropical.
This appeared to be the ideal place for our people.
Our interstellar travel made us masters of space.
However, we knew nothing of climate in this place,
or evolution and genetics within our race.
Your planet is in a section of isolation.
It takes many years to reach your civilization.
Our starships would be bringing news from the galaxy.
They would land three or four times in every century.
Your earth was once a constant tropical paradise.
However, climactic changes covered it with ice.
A strange phenomenon caused some harmless mutations.
Some of us were immune. There were no alterations.
This did not kill, or cause destructive physical harm.
It did start to arouse inevitable alarm.
Two separate groups arose over thousands of years.
Suspicion was perpetuated and caused great fears.
Those who did not leave earth sank into barbarism.
Envy, discord, and conflict were caused by the schism.
We had thought the end came for your civilization.
Your first radio signals gave us indication
that your culture has survived all these millennia.
This discovery has given us euphoria.
We see you have made your long ascent from savagery.
We are here to restore the long-lost fraternity.
We have uncovered much since we abandoned the earth.
Now that you are re-discovered, there will be much mirth.
Perpetual tropical climate, we will restore.
You won’t have to withstand freezing winters anymore.
With genetic mutation, there’s no need to endure.
For your offensive, yet harmless plague, we have a cure.
For what is now wrong, we have the power to make right.
Only let us know how many of you are still white.
Based on the short story "Reunion" by the late Arthur C. Clarke
One was politically, a dedicated liberal.
The other was a staunch conservative.
They both were Christians and patriotic
countrymen, rendering to Caesar his portion,
and offering to God their devotion.
As the two relatives debated,
some hurtful words were stated.
The dialogue became offensive
and too personal when one said to
the other, "You have been brainwashed".
Parts of one's heart were broken when by
the other, those four words were spoken.
With control of his emotions,
he voiced his heated objection.
With purity of heart, one said that he was sorry.
With a sensitive heart, there was acceptance of his apology.
For a while, their conversational roadway ebbed and flowed.
But for now, their freeway of interaction is closed.
082224PS
Our memories can be aroma-based...
at times not stoked by customary kind.
What some may find offensive, flee in haste,
to others stirs up pleasure in the mind.
Especially when memories are formed
in very young, they often leave imprints
of happy times instilled with smells that warm
to trigger them again with pungent hints.
When in a barn at some country event,
my hubby happily admits with glee,
that he enjoys the stinky barnyard scent...
brings back the fun on farm with family.
To each his own with sweet or stinky smell...
for either one...the memory will tell.
Sandra M. Haight
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Stink
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Judged: 10/04/2016
My butt crack
Is quite a split
It supports the rest of me
when I sit
you thought I was gonna say something else didn't you ?
My butt crack
Is a marvel to behold
It was cute when I was young
but now offensive since I'm old
My butt crack
Is pretty darn straight
can you imagine if it was crooked
pretty weird sight I would rate
My butt crack
Is funny to me
when I bend over in my jeans
It peeks out
for you to see
My butt crack
wanted me to write this today
for no other reason
then just to say......................
I gotta split
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
*Image of John Madden by Oakland News Now.
John Madden RIP
As an offensive linesman forms profession,
Complimenting Raiders pro football coach,
Relating coaching and playing no question,
At every game, there's a diverse approach,
After his heyday years on the field, to cam,
A front-page kinda guy, sporting the news,
His behind the cam persona clearly amuse,
Hectic tit-for-tat lifelike catchphrases bam,
Commercials, sportscasting purged midlife,
I personally knew him in his career highlife,
He knows the playbook, immortalized rock,
'Twas a subject of intrigue, animated stock,
Ere Constitution, the Word in his interviews,
It's nineteen seventy-seven Raiders streak,
Twelve consecutive victories Super Bowler,
Oakland Airport Hilton, the Raiders quarter,
As Hospitality Aficionado I smile and greet,
But now, twelve-year his calling as a coach,
Making Raiders fans proud, as all encroach,
We pay homage to the man giant than men,
A football player, coach, TV persona, friend.
2022 January 23