"deploy" poems
I hitch a ride on the Battle Bus,
Everyone else jumped out, I must.
I deploy my parachute below,
I glide my way to Moisty Meadow.
As I land I slurp some shields,
Extra health and a pistol I wield.
I loot the houses and **** the squads,
Which would not be possible without my mods.
I run from the storm throughout the game,
I post on the 'Gram that I won for fame.
Everyone that saw my Victory Royale,
Commented below and said "Dang, Wow!"
Now that I won, I'm the coolest around,
I walk down the halls with a figurative crown.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
Giving joy, getting joy, never coy,
Often pretty, always called a toy,
She sells all that there is to deploy.
And there is she who is demure;
A teacher whose job is secure.
Some say that all teachers are pure.
And there is he who is a professor;
He is his father’s successor;
Just like his father’s predecessor.
The first one we call a *****
She prostitutes her body more and more;
But the other ones we adore.
The professor prostitutes his knowledge.
He also sells his precious time.
And the teacher too makes the same pledge;
Especially while she is in her prime.
We all ********** something every day;
Yet only the first one’s a ********** yay!
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
Who can guess the Masquerade of this Time
Such Event is a Turtle; Withdrawn to a Box
None is ever wasted; None is left behind
None is allowed to lick and tether a Fox
It is the Creature; Banned for a Reason
The Furry Red was no benefit to avail
You cannot bargain; Not even for a Season
Better if the Document is stamped by a Snail
At least it was Honest; And hardly Fraud
Shall my Letter then be sent with such Mail
Else cheat your Lover whilst he is Abroad?
Or perhaps better resolve this Bitter Alimony.
Neither you or I in this Picnic we enjoy
The Duckling Issue whose Exit we deploy.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Take time to care
Infuse with joy
Mend the despair
Bro'hood employ
Achieve in prayer
Lord's love deploy
Long live old boy
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
So as much as this Drama does persist
Your Prisoned Warning tugs at my Cool Shirt
Asking me to take Prudence and desist
In bashing Silence to where it would hurt
Now engraved in Copper I will make Clear:
For all my Writ Plagues I Apologise,
Deep in use plug Buds to that Trumpet's Ear
If Empathy a Letter in disguise
This my Friend's Spy; Deploy to high pursuit
Waving that Placard in belated claim
Which tastes folly less on a nutty boot
And Reprimand stamped on his just Remain.
Such I learned that Friendship's Best takes no Force
I Follow my Heart; Now you Follow yours.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Stay still.
Oh, Captive queen.
Capital the stealth is.
A diamond of many edges, you can be.
Devasting all what you play with.
It is your nature.
Consuming to the boulders
only with your presence.
That's why you are measured
Stay loyal
Our moment will come.
When the gates of my complexion,
Unleashed will deploy.
The fierce will no longer be tamed,
I will let it go.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Thank you for the love you give
I have my life but now I live
To show you something that is true
Beyond the two words of I do...
With our bodies we can touch
You will always be my mental crush
Through our lives we've felt the pain
Together we have eased our strain
Every path can be an aisle
To your heart to make you smile
Whatever it takes I will do
Overcome all obstacles to get to you
To feel your body by my side
Exposed to you I cannot hide
My words of passion I do deploy
To lift your spirit and bring you joy..
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Above the forest of the parakeets,
A parakeet of parakeets prevails,
A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
(The rudiments of tropics are around,
Aloe of ivory, pear of rusty rind.)
His lids are white because his eyes are blind.
He is not paradise of parakeets,
Of his gold ether, golden alguazil,
Except because he broods there and is still.
Panache upon panache, his tails deploy
Upward and outward, in green-vented forms,
His tip a drop of water full of storms.
But though the turbulent tinges undulate
As his pure intellect applies its laws,
He moves not on his coppery, keen claws.
He munches a dry shell while he exerts
His will, yet never ceases, perfect ****
To flare, in the sun-pallor of his rock.
3.1k
Poetry invents jocular joy
Limpid loquaciousness rejoice
Heuristic verbiage to deploy
Poetry invents jocular joy
Dancing with Shakespeare and Tolstoy
Mellifluous melodic voice
Poetry invents jocular joy
Limpid loquaciousness rejoice
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Baby birds sit still,
sleeping softly, in baby eggs not hatched,
while mother bird waits patiently
for little shells to crack.
Now little birds with open eyes
chirp sharply without rest,
and mother bird leaves speedily
to gather worms and crumbs of bread.
After their meals, the little birds
are filled with food and joy,
'till mother bird hops closer
to help them soon deploy.
With harried squeaks
and frenzied flapping,
they fall down from their nest,
and mother bird, from up above,
spies patiently, in hopes of their success.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 6:06 PM UTC
Lucifer, Lucifer
Black, rotting mind,
How can you live
With the lies that you wind?
Lucifer, Lucifer
You claim to destroy
But need God's permission
For what you deploy.
Black Lily of old,
Wrecker of worlds,
Mover of mountains,
Oil slick pearl,
The whorls on your forehead,
The horns on your head,
The eyes in your hands
As you dress your dead.
You desolate valleys
You eat up the land,
You grind a man's bones
To Sahara sand.
In my eye a beam
In your eye a mote,
The rampant *****
Of a rutting goat.
They grow in your belly
The flies that you spawn,
Maggots in multitudes
10 trillion strong.
Yes, out they spew
Through your spittle and teeth,
The lies propigated
From way underneith.
O, putrid rose,
Who has duplicate skill
To create "beauty"
To dazzle man's will.
But nothing you "make"
Is good on this earth,
No, nothing you "make"
Has any WORTH.
O, blighted star,
Constellation of hate,
Galaxy ghoul
Your strength is FINITE.
Who runs the show,
You aborted SOW?
When all's said and done
To whom will you BOW?
More sooner than late
Your end will come
In the pit ALONE.
With no one to ***
Who'll put you there,
Bound in your chains?
Why! GOD! Of course...
... for Jesus Christ REIGNS.
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) February 2014
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
My eyes smell sleepy, he, refusing to depart,
But there is coffee on the nightstand,
The odor, infiltrating the dozy brain's heart.
Annoyed with each other,
They shout and fight
Like teenage siblings Commissioners at the SEC,
Arguing over bathroom monopolization,
The tongue stays sidelined, feigning net neutrality.
The bed smells empty,
For the **** has crowed,
Yogi David commands your presence
At Saturday morning Eight O'clock yoga services.
To get to his Sinai on time,
Early departure, an FAA requirement,
Car, ferry and foot you will deploy,
In the winter, special skis and snowshoes,
That blessed by his mantra,
Enable you to walk on water.
In the kitchen there is sisterly conversation,
Yes, puttering and muttering and discussing,
Sister's grown child texting, he's making the pilgrimage
To see Mama, alone, unexpectedly,
Six hours driving.
Friends and countryman,
That is how you spell t-r-o-u-b-l-e
Sleepy master dwarf refuses to concede,
Says when kitchen noises retreat,
Back to him you will supplicate,
They (the other dwarfs and body parts),
Have a big convention to better communicate..
Departure comes without a kiss,
But not without complaint,
She always says I love you first,
Which is natural,
She being a girl.
Now the bladder starts to whiny~chatter,
What about me, what about me,
Don't you love me, and me rhymes with P!
While the stomach quietly snores
Have been well-fed
but a few hours before,
He dreams of some more....macadamia crusted s'mores...
I could verse you more,
No problem that's for sure,
But you got the point:
The morning smells.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
If not I, Past remnants,
I immigrant M ingnorant.
to this game.
that I play in chains.
Quick sand in my native land
.there are no turmps in my hand..
only ronald mc Donald.
as im given Starbucks to spend where?
Strange furits with rotten roots.And David stars with scars.
Those wounded by a fat boy.And We still wait to deploy.
The sickness of these snitches. given we these stitches.
wounds that will never heal. This is (right hear) real....#listen
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 10:09 AM UTC
Writers can be so snotty sometimes
They think they're so clever with their rhymes
They employ obscure words
the way armies deploy a specialized force
pedantic, pretentious, affected on some insufferable plagiarized course
Their wit a mired ploy to be perceived as bright
not so much to share knowledge
but to be the one that's right
vaingloriousness cripples the honesty in script
and another puzzled reader
reads between the lines of a message adrift
people twist things to their advantage
skew the facts to fit the page
shrug it off as a necessity of the modern age
most do it, few will notice
if they do they'll say it's a mistake
deadlines howl, time grates like a rake
truth is incidental when words are fake
another American madman goes berserk with a gun on a spree
perfect timing for the rollout of Grand Theft Auto 3
Don't worry little directors of death and mayhem
You've no culpability in the land of the free
causality is just some unprovable notion
you're safe and sound from any legal motion
exculpatory mitigation is your right as an 'artist'
'till the sorry day you eat the gun
the eventual price you'll pay for your sick wicked fun
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE
By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):
The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a ****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.
The Scots have raised their threat level from ****** Off" to "Let's get
the ******** They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.
The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.
Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."
The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.
The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.
Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: ****** I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.
A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
We lined the ridge of Senlac hill
The shield wall stood five men deep
In the autumn chill
The came at us on horse and foot
But we were the men of the Sussex weald
Men who would not yealed
Our shields now hacked and broken
Bodies bloodied bruised and sore
But we the housecarles of the English King
Would stand and fight the war
Prince William came with his aray the English crown to take
But we the men of Sussex
Would many French bones break
Alas our shield wall has broken
Kentish men on the right have charged
They sought to cut the Norman line
And so the men of Kent did die
The French now archers did deploy
With bitter arows fired high
Harold, our king, our leige Lord
Took an arrow in his eye
We gathered round his body
We men of the Sussex Weald
Our king was dead, the battle lost
But Sussex men don't yeald
The shield wall now in disaray
Large gaps now opened up
Brave men now die before the spear
From the broadswords vicious cut
And so we died on Senlac ridge
But there were no wounds in our backs
We died for England's glory
Cut down by spear and axe
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
Your smile creeps off you know,
With no control,
Like you aren't wanting to go,
But there's something unknown,
And with alot of pull,
The voice dismayed with things that haven't happened,
And probably won't,
The slight underwhelming moan,
In a sea of sighs,
You can't try to control,
The glass is normally half full,
But like villains,
only known to the narrator,
Stalks in linens,
And they deploy the daggers,
That don't make any sense,
So you build the fence,
And hope to sleep,
Because when you're up again,
You'll smile at the pen,
know it doesn't make sense,
And that it will happen more,
Just do you're process and apologize,
Saying that there is no control
But realize,
It doesn't matter if it's normal,
It means it will change.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
There is dark magic
Here in my attic
A magician’s tactics
Cause pain emphatic
This magician gives me all I can handle
Until one day I’m dismantled
Like a once lit candle
Extinguished by the ice near Ymir
Birthing the Titans I fear
Bringing death here
Morphing me into a rigid wreck
Here in the frigid depths
I wish I left
The violence of violins
Lamenting the vile sin
Conjured by riled kin
Like they’re wild djinn
Can’t be muted
Only diluted
By becoming rooted
In thinking stupid
Avoiding Cupid
To join the putrid
The magician concocts potions
That excuse my emotions
As I forget devotion
For a temporary motion
The magician gives us difficult obstacles
And easily medicated excuses
So people won’t make things optimal
While purpose eludes them
Like Jekyll and Hyde
My hackles I hide
With shackles of pride
Covered in mystic thorns
So my wrists are torn
From the pain adorned
It’s my brain I mourn
The magician erects walls so thick
They separate healers from the sick
With magic bricks
Imbued by the magician’s enchantment
He builds a wall and then expands it
Until those inside become tantric
From the prison wall’s antics
Every time I turn the page
I am given rage
On the magician’s stage
Of the wars we wage
Under a curse of anger
Dehumanizing strangers
To deploy the Army Rangers
Perpetuating harming danger
The magician lies
The magician steals
The magician hides
What is real
Until I feel
The cold steel
The magician wields
Piercing through my electrified body
I guess the magician finally caught me
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
Don’t wanna be restrained to,
Allow for the politicians abuse,
Freedom from the celebrity ruse,
As I struggle with these hues,
Red, White, and Blue.
We’re like toys,
We make noise,
Bring them joy,
We’re easy to poise.
Grab me by my hair,
Throw me in the chair,
Scream at me, “It’s not fair!,”
You say, “You’re a burden I can’t bare.”
I’ll kick your teeth out, it’s only fair.
Life couldn’t give you a more silver spoon,
Sat up in your high chair, tightening our noose,
Drinking from a sippy cup, it’s alcohol abuse,
I hope you forget that karma is on the loose.
Cause we’re coming for you.
Half-dead brutes,
***** of dried prunes,
Master of child abuse,
You are the fake news.
Others will avoid,
You will destroy,
The bombs you deploy,
For the middle east oil,
Brainwashed toys are easy to exploit.
May 6, 2022
May 6, 2022 at 11:26 AM UTC
I didn't expect such an eloquent piece of work to slip from your mouth,
An amazing set of words put together as intricate an atom bomb,
Or as an improvised explosive device, so i see,
Thus I must be careful where i tread my glass slippered feet,
and be aware of what breath of words expels from my lips.
I never expected such a skill set of destruction and warfare,
From a beautiful mouth, so deceptive, that it almost seems,
you are an undercover lover,
both beneath the sheets, and between distinguished conversations,
regarding such tentative ideals of love and the ambiguity of trust.
A terrorist it seems amongst the ranks with a finger on the trigger,
with a finger on my lips, and a whisper hush in my ear.
It seems i was blind to your type of sweet deception;
There are codes i didn't understand, and my mind was melting,
from the heat of your touch and the sublime twist of your hips.
I can see your eyes ready to deploy a subterfuge of promises,
as they look into the distance calculating the logistics,
of this moonlight illicit flit of passion;
Never did i expect such an eloquent transpose of intentions,
Even remarkably as this feels like the Romeo and Juliette of modern times.
I am the 'x marks the spot' in no-mans-land it seems,
I am the calm after the storm in the aftermath of your expostulation,
You, my love, are a sublime soldier in this battlefield we call 'togetherness'.
No-one asked you to go to this infernal devastating war;
Yet i long for your return from the eternal, internal battle,
you fight between your heart and your head.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
You are the Ocean and I am the wave
moving in tandem as if I'm Your slave.
I rise and fall according to Your will
though once in a while I'm kept very still.
I have no real life without Your sanction
which now seems to be like a distraction.
There are so many others just like me
and I wonder somehow if they agree.
In this manner You just do as You please
and deploy us all with surprising ease!
Our goal seems to be on reaching the shore
then return back to You again for more!
The presence of the moon has much to say
with what goes on Your surface every day.
Its influence is more than we'd suspect
and has to be treated with some respect.
Beyond are other worlds and stars in space
along with the sun which dictates the pace.
They're orbs of living wonder in that sky
and cast their shadows if we care to pry.
How unenlightened seems this life of ours
when we consider how we pass the hours.
For our days are numbered lest we forget
but through One's realization some are set.
There isn't much else now that can be said
before a time comes and we're all but dead.
We can only hope that we've done no harm
on the Ocean's surface that's full of charm.
___________________
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 9:33 PM UTC
FIVE geese deploy mysteriously.
Onward proudly with flagstaffs,
Hearses with silver bugles,
Bushels of plum-blossoms dropping
For ten mystic web-feet-
Each his own drum-major,
Each charged with the honor
Of the ancient goose nation,
Each with a nose-length surpassing
The nose-lengths of rival nations.
Somberly, slowly, unimpeachably,
Five geese deploy mysteriously.
1.6k
I wish there was a way
to deploy the emotion,
let it tumble from my ragged chest,
let the world fight my sorrow,
my tainted facade,
my lonliness,
my separation,
In the hopes of closure:
The chance to stitch my chest
And once more
Make it whole
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
It seems the battle now has passed me by.
I walk unhindered on the ****** beach.
I cannot hear the screams of shot and shell.
I am immune and quite beyond their reach.
Some men I knew deploy a Bangalore
And blow a hole in Hitler’s grand defense.
Machine guns sputter but I heed them not.
For me the battle has lost all suspense.
My kit and rifle are light upon my back.
My rage is spent; I lack the urge to ****
There are others who make up my lack
Here there’s blood in buckets to be spilled.
I meet a German, sitting on a rock.
His tunic bloodied there about his heart
He offers me a smoke and I accept,
Although I’ve heard that smoking isn’t smart..
We speak and somehow understand each other
As we watch our younger brothers play at war.
He apologized for his part in my ******
I assure him that I’m not the least bit sore.
He asks if I’ve brought coins for the boatman.
I fish through my pockets and come up with dimes
With images of Mercury on the obverse,
rods and Fasces on the other side.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 10:22 PM UTC
rhondda boy, don't deploy
your life to poor existence
pits are closed,but not the song
welsh heart, and it's persistence
past unfair, leave it there
where history has stung
memories of bampas words
and every song he sung
look ahead in all thats new
don't wallow in your woe
pits are gone, but not the song
your bampa used to now
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC