Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"deterrence" poems
When just a simple smile is enough why do you always pull out a gun and make things more rough to keep it in your pocket is deterrence but for a hot headed like you the easy option is violence
0
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
Violence
You walk on the edge of spiritual growth and have always found the way to fly Above the cliffs of doubt and deterrence Under the creators watchful eye Your grace and determination out weigh the heaviest stone And your love I could live off of alone Beauty breathes life into nature and you make every flower blossom when you pass by Destiny never became so clear until I looked within your eyes None are as lucky as I to have found such a spirit whose youth outshines time greater than the immortal sky we gaze upon And none are as lucky to have kissed the sun, the star that you are, that sets me on fire. Nor will I ever meet another who is so selfless and thought provoking My mind and heart has developed because of you, one like you who never stops hoping You see the truth of all things and know who you are, and because of all of this my home is never far. You are my lucky star. I love you
0
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
Lucky 7
If in nothing then in all Must I sin to be saved Must I wrong to be absolved Forgiveness comes at such a cost Must I pierce the heart to come in lost In the darkness in the light In the confusion of the night You can call it incoherent incompetence You can call it a deterrence Just don't call it a ****** innocence
0
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
It's your call
We followed the girl with the flossy blonde wig like she were the march hare- late late late. I was in an art deco trapeze top and size 3 blue jeans, Lord & Taylor boots I bought with a 100 dollar gift card. 15, freshly single, pregamed, and ready to blend in with the co-eds. Flossy Blonde was short and thin- in a red number walking way fast to the apartment I think we were invited to. The crew I was with was incredibly drunk and incredibly gay and I couldn't wait to go to a real party. Flossy Blonde disappears into a doorway- with generic flashing dorm-room lights spilling out of it along with cigarette brigades of Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. I didn't know it then, but those seniors couldn't escape expectation. There was a pole installed in the middle of the room. A caterpillar man in a tiny suit and bow tie, big hipster glasses, was grinding to Gaga on it, There was no tea- but everyone was equipped with jungle juice that made them bigger or smaller. Flossy blonde was there getting her drink on, throwing her hips around. Her cotton-tail wiggled a little. Passion red lights flashed on her outfit. I danced with her, and this what would now be called "bro" but then just an unavoidable deterrence with a fractioned hat. My vision was getting blurry- must have been the kool-aid. And now my memory is, too, because I keep thinking The Queen of Hearts was there cheering us on- Because a purple cat meowed "We want to see you kiss!" And so I gave Flossy Blonde a sloppy one- and the room erupted with lava loudness, ruckus and applause. She giggled a little- as we sat on a love seat, I proceeded to exclaim, "I kiss way better when I'm not sloshed." and then I woke up under a tree.
0
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
First Out Kiss Wonderland
We followed the girl with the flossy blonde wig like she were the march hare- late late late. I was in an art deco trapeze top and size 3 blue jeans, Lord & Taylor boots I bought with a 100 dollar gift card. 15, freshly single, pregamed, and ready to blend in with the co-eds. Flossy Blonde was short and thin- in a red number walking way fast to the apartment I think we were invited to. The crew I was with was incredibly drunk and incredibly gay and I couldn't wait to go to a real party. Flossy Blonde disappears into a doorway- with generic flashing dorm-room lights spilling out of it along with cigarette brigades of Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. I didn't know it then, but those seniors couldn't escape expectation. There was a pole installed in the middle of the room. A caterpillar man in a tiny suit and bow tie, big hipster glasses, was grinding to Gaga on it, There was no tea- but everyone was equipped with jungle juice that made them bigger or smaller. Flossy blonde was there getting her drink on, throwing her hips around. Her cotton-tail wiggled a little. Passion red lights flashed on her outfit. I danced with her, and this what would now be called "bro" but then just an unavoidable deterrence with a fractioned hat. My vision was getting blurry- must have been the kool-aid. And now my memory is, too, because I keep thinking The Queen of Hearts was there cheering us on- Because a purple cat meowed "We want to see you kiss!" And so I gave Flossy Blonde a sloppy one- and the room erupted with lava loudness, ruckus and applause. She giggled a little- as we sat on a love seat, I proceeded to exclaim, "I kiss way better when I'm not sloshed." and then I woke up under a tree.
Continue reading...
46
These playful boys Ducking in and out from the sea of umbrellas Occasionally poke their heads out to be splashed by my rains A waterfall of another substance, with no intention nor motive But simply given to bathe all in purety and joy Free from payment and contract My water drizzles from pores as if never ending And my cloud, held up by these feeling boys Who, upon looking upon my cloud Create invisible pillars, sturdy and unbreakable, keeping it from falling from sky These links pass their happiness to the outline to the grey mists embodied Often misleading simple eyes to presume unwanted storms and floods And hopefully more may look up, to find their silver lining But as I look down to see my waters humble achievements I am blinded by the swarm of blockades erected Falsely they fear the waters as they fear other things natural and of form Suspicion instilled by mergers already signed causes distrust For they're accustomed to a price, and deals being made Blindly they cannot see this freedom was rightfully theirs to begin with The truth disguised in every drop of rain is eternal, without expiry nor catch Unlike those temporary pleasures offered by fog and shadow But so many droplets go straight to the ground, dead and unrealized Trampled on as the crowd continues living in shade Each hit, bruises me and my cloud, darkening the already looming grey Unintentionally the growing cloud provokes more deterrence from storms broadcasted maliciously But still, I release my waters, looking down to those boys who care not for light in darkness
0
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
The Boys who Play in the Rain
These playful boys Ducking in and out from the sea of umbrellas Occasionally poke their heads out to be splashed by my rains A waterfall of another substance, with no intention nor motive But simply given to bathe all in purety and joy Free from payment and contract My water drizzles from pores as if never ending And my cloud, held up by these feeling boys Who, upon looking upon my cloud Create invisible pillars, sturdy and unbreakable, keeping it from falling from sky These links pass their happiness to the outline to the grey mists embodied Often misleading simple eyes to presume unwanted storms and floods And hopefully more may look up, to find their silver lining But as I look down to see my waters humble achievements I am blinded by the swarm of blockades erected Falsely they fear the waters as they fear other things natural and of form Suspicion instilled by mergers already signed causes distrust For they're accustomed to a price, and deals being made Blindly they cannot see this freedom was rightfully theirs to begin with The truth disguised in every drop of rain is eternal, without expiry nor catch Unlike those temporary pleasures offered by fog and shadow But so many droplets go straight to the ground, dead and unrealized Trampled on as the crowd continues living in shade Each hit, bruises me and my cloud, darkening the already looming grey Unintentionally the growing cloud provokes more deterrence from storms broadcasted maliciously But still, I release my waters, looking down to those boys who care not for light in darkness
Continue reading...
26
You. You persuade my lungs to breathe for a purpose. An instantaneous drop of perpetuation. The thought of my eyes opening and your smile not there to pluck hearts from my mind puts a black cloud of deterrence over my soul. I am yours. You may think you know how I feel. You may think that my love has a limit. I am afraid. I am afraid you are wrong. With every kiss. With every hug. It makes living that much harder. To hope. To hope our script has been written together. To hope. That I'll be there, Waiting for you on the other side of the darkness. I rather not look upon another persons eyes ever again, and tell them the simple three words, that have driven me to a chaotic perfection because I would not be able to. not be able to love. Someone. As much as I love, You. But there is one last whisper. For if our script does not have us in the final act, it will still have been. And that is worth more than a thousand heavens. For when my lips laid upon yours for the first time, it was a beautiful poison that has been forever placed into my heart.
0
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
About a girl
Drugs, drastic doings and daily doses of suicide. Do I do it for that feeling of self government? That adrenaline rush; an engulfing sense of freedom and autonomy. This is my body, My lungs to inhale with, my mouth to swallow with and my nose to snort with. I shouldn't be doing this, I'm going to do this. Why am I so ****** up? Do I do it because I don't care? 'SMOKING KILLS' ,it says it on the box. Every day I torture my lungs, suffocating them, Smothering them, smouldering them. Every inhalation bringing me closer to death. This thought is not a deterrence but a mere acceptance. The more I allow myself to be a slave to my plotting and unsubtle murderer, the less I care. Why am I so ****** up? Do I do it because its an act or rebellion? Look at me, I'm doing something you don't approve of, I'm going to make you angry. With my misdirected strength and determination, I'm going to tear down the walls that are your rules. This feeling of disobedience, it's addictive. Why am I so ****** up? So many reasons, so many people, so many ****** up things.
0
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
****** up
OR: Benchmarks for Bench-Warming The author, after recently publishing Working to Frame Approaches Towards Approaching Frameworks: Contextualizing Systemic Interventions as an Interventional System in Context collaborated with himself and co-wrote Granting Greater Rights to Grant-Writers: Turning Down the Echo in an Eco-Downturn. Both papers were well-received and build on the strength of the author's initial work, published in 2018, entitled: Speed-Dating the Data: Progressive Measures towards Measurable Progress The author's third paper examined day-by-day data deterrence as a strategy to enhance documentation of impact towards tracking the implementation of benchmarks. The main thesis of the author's 78-page analysis was that out-dated data, when out on a date, flirts with obsolescence by trying to ford the current affordability when instead, it could be out-sourcing data while invoicing clients in adolescence—rather than dragging the river for dead data. All three publications are recommended and underwritten by overwhelmed authorized ghost writers.
0
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC
Intellectuational Linguistics:
(With regards to International Workers’ Day) Who said workers are only workers? They are a gift of heaven They come for social good; But return with lots of deterrence You may treat them like engines But always remember There is also a worker Somewhere within you Who is keen to protect the dignity Of these outdoor workers. Workers are not only workers… Above all, they are humans Just like you and me.
0
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 1:25 PM UTC
Workers are not only workers
Her lipstick blossomed against this, particular, shade of white. It dimmed, as the filter thickened with a yellow stain. Halfway down the bridge, held the implements saving her sight. Lost in a back alley while feeling contrite Privileged enough, still avoiding a handouts gain Easy enough, held at her beauty’s height. Unresolved, and drenched in self-imposed pain. T-shirt’s ripped and garnished in disdain Caught up with mystics and the art of transference. Eye line clotted in an ever-thickening paste of black. Standing upright on borrowed self-assurance Using a bodyguard as a cocktail for hollow insurance. Always a rotational position, pulled from the stack. No more than a figure head to represent deterrence. Tripped on a bed-rock buried in the track. Wound up addicted her first time on crack.
0
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
Outright Fiction
There is no such thing as Center Perception is a box A television In which we see how to live our lives In which we see others More Beautiful Others live our lives While we sit and watch Simulation of stimulation Simulacra becomes reality Reality becomes a game show I’m losing Center gives depth and boundaries and an easier existence to digest Yes or No Pepsi or Coke Living or Existing A system of binary choices acts as a deterrence model which suppresses radical change The symbols become the real The reproduction becomes the real The simulation becomes the real There is no such thing as Center There is no such thing as center There is no such thing as “center”
0
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
Center
Soiled vital waters fetid air, putrid eyes enshrouded in their mess pray your savior at mass. Parched throats of children skyscrapers of greed to worsen Apocalyptic weathers. Laughable leaders ********** you whole you nodded to their role! A nation forming fighters Renegades! Ink traded for a green and gregarious grenade and in theaters, more horror and gore. Curl up in bed with your ***** fingers Ignore the insisting despair that lingers Unattainable towers of desire Sketching lines in your petty quire Shout out to your flag carried by jocks Olympic games of hardened idiots Humans on paper, hideous grey flocks. Sectarian society silenced by dollar signs stupidly suffering the absurdity of this all Lather your body in perfumes to find you whole wash away the stench of your indifference Gulping down whatever nectar of horrendous hope Willingly treading down a meaningless lethal slope Even our dying Earth won’t bend your deterrence! August 29, 2018 Lyon
0
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
Whistleblower
Do you choose or will you blame this on fate? Your insolence is inescapable And yet I allow thee to deprecate Myself till I become incapable. With such malice it cannot be legal, Abusing ignorance, I must comply. You call me chicken instead of eagle So I dig, peck, and scratch when I could fly. Departing once I realized your lies, Fleeing with haste, there was zero forbearance. So arrogant it took you by surprise, that I did not heed your crude deterrence. I will return one day, not to abhor but to demonstrate, how high I can soar.
0
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
Eagle
Engraving the grave of love A stone cold cheek kiss That brought back no bliss I dreamed the day of the dead’s Carnival plebeian fire Round the two winged heads Of Notre Dame more than, **** Your own ancient love pyre The sky, navy, anew, whispering, sighing. We didn’t babble, my beat up heart Constantly repeating “beat it!” But my feet thought This meant the sidewalk: We marched, on and on We walked, both alone My heels echoing Paris, clear, calm kept on calling. The pathetic pictures of two pasts Fading away fading fast During the day of the dead, dealing With this tepid, torn, tarnished time Last night I bet and bargained a dime With my deterrence– a dime turned dove “Fly away, Paris is no place like home, to love! “ Sunday, November 1, 2015, Paris, Le Marais
0
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
Engraving the grave of love
The allure skies began to tremble Before the horrible Bomb Dome Beirut weared a wide black mantle With moaning wounds in each home As pigeons of peace died at duty Beirut my ravishing moribund city Revered for its destroyed beauty The sky quivered in bustling pity Ah, August 4 engraved in history With mushroom clouds of doom A massacre a monstrous blistery Staining blood agony in every room Steeling from many the innocent life Yet the rest narrowly escaping death Are actually dead suffering being alive Are sorrowly alive in a poisoned breath Victims chewed by the evil fallout The epitaph can not return any life Children cowered with a heavy shout Hearts cringed as stabbed by knife So many politicians and scientists Enslaved to produce a conclusion We do not need to see their tests Their deterrence and bribed delusion Anyone who made lives end Is Satan, a monster, a real devil... Nations say weapons are to defend No! They only permeat their evil ∴ Lyna Salman
0
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 8:03 PM UTC
BEIRUTSHIMA!