"deterrent" poems
If I am kindling,
you must be the spark...
Much alive in the darkest dark,
lifting all shadows with
finesse and flair.
If I am flame,
you must be the air and wind...
Unfettered and free...
Cradling my infancy.
Only to nurture and inspire,
to groom flame to fire.
If I am faltering...
And almost extinguished,
you must be the hand...
Bearing the confidence and belief...
Awaiting the moment most opportune,
to align yourself in rhythm and tune.
So we could...
Continue to
burst forth into light.
So we could...
Resume our journey forth with might.
Let us be our own deterrent
from the darkness
that comes with morrow's set.
Hand in hand, we must...
Because together...
And only together,
we're...
incandescent.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
Metaphorical suicide.
My feelings are as deep as the valleys running across my wrist: Non existent.
Countless heart breaks from a single girl proved to be a likely deterrent.
Old habits die easy with you, causing my fists to turn a dark red hue.
Empty bottles and cigarettes litter the floor, a noose hanging above being the only door so that I will finally soar.
Or dare I ask, and partake in this task which will surely leave me stripped of my sanity.
Watch me load a revolver with a single casing engraved "True Love" . Look me in the eyes as I place the barrel of the gun made from the broken memories we shared together unto my chest, and watch as I pull the trigger, causing my metaphorical platter splatter into globs of grey matter.
I lay in my bed sleepless, non existent lateral lines running up and down my wrists, non existent, yet I still feel the throbbing and the slow spill of everything I ever felt ,drip down into my sides, surrounding me in a puddle of...
Real tears caused by the fears of letting go, or is what surrounds me are all the mistakes I've made, mutated from being left alone with no where else to go, so they make their way to the surface waiting for me to profess all that I've wronged? No. All that would have been too merciful.
Instead you took all of my feelings, my love, my heart, and melted it down into the shape of a metal bat, ironically engraved "tough luck" and proceeded to beat me in.
Not to bad, or painful. But to the point where I feel it, then the pain quickly recedes, like i am stuck in the sand of a island you marooned me on, The acid waves wash over me for a split second, causing pain into my heart, then it's gone. Causing me to forever constantly.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
I'm a prisoner of love, in this unguarded cell,
The warden whistles my name you'd think it hell,
but she knows my case all too well,
Her piercing eyes as resolute as the Bastille,
Dodging Cupids arrows at will,
Across this broom is forever, I'm gone for a life long spell,
With Joy as my bars and happiness the rubber shower mats,
Blissful ecstasy is its escape deterrent traps,
I pass the time a whittling hearts and sharpening this rap.
See those chalk lines on the wall of my heart?
They record the memories of my days since the start,
Her smiles are more prized than jailhouse art.
At inspection and roll call in the morning,
The smirk under the cap then a whispering,
Keep careful watch on our "Prisoner Prince Charming",
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
There's nothing like a house full
when you're a single parent
and you'd think the mess you find you're in
would be a good deterrent
But there's nothing to compare
despite the tears and all the struggles
to everyday the love you have
and the kisses and the cuddles
And i'll say this from the start
there's no one else i'd rather be
and raise my kids alone
it's a job made just for me
And despite the sleepless nights
and the sticky fingerprints
and the ***** piles of washing
and the room that always stinks
There's a bundle of four children
who are as happy as can be
they really are a rabble
but I know that they love me
We've all been though some heartache
and quite traumatic things
but everyday is worth it
no matter what it brings
And even if the washing
is piled to the sky
and the dog wants to move out
though I can't imagine why
And the plugholes always blocked
and there's arguing afoot
and everyone got taller
from the last time that I looked
And they play on the same server
all laughing with each other
all in different bedrooms
two sisters and two brothers
You'd never know that last night
there was almost World War 3
and a hostage negotiation
over playing DayZ
But rules here must apply
there are chores and a curfew
a sense of order must be kept
even if you're 6 foot 2
I count my blessings as I go
and for each other we are glad
when you raise your kids alone
being both their Mum and Dad.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
Blood-soaked blue sky
Smell our vinaigrette of helplessness
The honey crying chords of a zillion golden cubs
Roots that won’t die
Bursting through us
Dark crimson walls high
Too shame our innards
Tear-drenched rain
Draining our conscience
Pulling us toward the marble migraine
Where blinded gerents continue the measured deterrent
Of life desperate
Keeping hearts from heads
And minds from mouths
Away from this marble pavement
High up top, in cobwebs of restitched tapestry
Skeleton beast, less beastly in breathlessness...
A surge of sun spurged light in clustered cusps
Blows into this lecher
To carry our vividness
Like pappus in great gusts...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Choosing doesn’t matter much as choosing to be a somebody, would matter… If not for the totality that is the whole (“trying bit”). Trying is like the ultimate reaction time! Not because it has anything to do with choosing something whether or not it’s good or bad, whilst (choosing doesn’t matter) could actually benefit your own (trying phase) into a (somehow) newer light. Why you may ask of this very detail that seems to not shed any more “obvious” light to what’s already been the most obvious of ideals chosen to be the main majority of facts by today's standards…? Well it completely doesn’t. As it entirely does, also. You see both choosing to do something whilst (trying to simply do that very thing) aren’t the same by ANY standards. As their both each other’s direct counterparts! Given standards for a given achieving rate. None will cause you to trade ideal for fact towards choosing over trying. Simply because if choosing doesn’t matter one bit… It’s also fair to say that trying is the ultimate reaction time, because choosing doesn’t matter. Trying is closer to a stimulus. Whilst choosing is closer to a response. A stimulus is better described as being incredibly instinctive. Where you have NO motion, except for what your mind feels when constantly being pulled in so many directions it doesn’t know which way to advise itself otherwise. Commonly being used as a “deterrent for disaster” when being controlled by the very thing it’s meant to control. A response however, is nothing without its stimulus to direct the trigger that at which made you react towards firstly. Warping your very bodies need to get wrapped up into itself. (More direct artificial stimulus rises and falls confusing the bodies signals…which politely anyways sends back to the mind safely.) Threatening to shower even more reactions down on itself from the literal inside out! Nevertheless, this was good for the mind. Gave it some closure as the “god of your own body”! Mind could personally get back at the body for pulling it into thinking it was the god! When truthfully, it was simply the deprived mortal acting as the constant, repeating, signalling pack mule! Hast to know its place after all… Am I right…?! The mind said, confident in its very words. All because the body reacted to something it inadvertently forced the mind into thinking it was being pulled around in so many directions, it didn’t know how to otherwise order its entire counterpart to simply halt! Simply by saying…STOP! However, you must know by now in today's age, that when something is amiss, you don’t simply surrender lightly. Especially when it doesn’t feel right. You ALWAYS listen to when something doesn’t FEEL…RIGHT! Am I right…?!
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
Random mortar shells in the afternoon.
Sparkling, steel jacketed rain drops,
Glinting rainbows of reflected sunlight.
Plastic explosive seat cushions upon which passers-by,
Rest their weary bones.
C-4 candy bars, nuclear toothpaste,
****** for dessert.
Orphanage flambe', hospital hash, blood pudding.
Human burgers sizzling on a smart bomb bar-b-que grill.
Finger food, toe jam, baby-back ribs.
Bureaucratic double talkers,
Sugar coated body counts,
Colateral stew.
Really deplorable, awfully sorry,
But it was their own faults trying to put on raincoats.
They declined our invitation to the cook-out.
Bad luck to open an umbrella in the house.
Remotely piloted funeral processions.
Radar guided hearses.
Televised in real time.
Precision, surgical,
neutralized, deterrent, disarmed,
Deactivated, stand down, eliminate.
Living pawns on a battlefield checkerboard.
Strategic, defensive,
Dominate, annihilate,
Acceptable loss, public opinion pole.
Listen to the tinkling of sabre blades,
Rattling windchimes,
In the warm breeze of the shockwave,
Accompanied by the drumbeat of detonation and concussion.
Rock...
...and heads will roll.
Holy, blessed,
Patriotic, brave,
Courageous, dedicated,
Heroic, dutiful,
Self sacrificing...
******
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
Paper ***** flew around the classroom
masquerading as a cricket ball
Hit as hard but managing to hardly go anywhere
The chaos in the class would soon end,
as the diminutive figure will walk in, book in one hand
Prying eyes trying to catch the laggards
shuffling back to their seat and
pretend to be very obedient and behaved lot.
The pinch, the hit on the arm with ruler, or the words
will bring about absolute silence,
masking the transient pain and shame,
that will soon followed by snickering comments and giggles
from those who escaped this time by their agility or luck.
The pencil boxes will soon start to play multiple roles,
like the actors in a play on a tight budget,
Transporting bits of papers with probable clues to the
questions put forth, the wrong answer to which,
could lead to repercussions of varying degree..
Like standing outside like a flagpole,
but failing to act as a deterrent to us incorrigible lot.
Lunch time will be like an oasis in the day of claustrophobic pedantry
where the darwinian principles will be set to test,
hands drawn towards the most delicious tiffin boxes,
the rightful owner of which will be lucky to even find a morsel
But however mundane and monochromatic sometimes those time may be
Looking back its was all worth it
when we could pick after 3 decades later where we all left off
and engage in hours of debating, leg-pulling, sarcasm, enlightenment
not withstanding the boundaries of time, space and temperament.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
Proclaimed the paper-cutout placard on the table:
Clothless gray plastic-surfaced round.
In this immense faux-stone (concrete?)
Faux-English country house
We escape to the top of the stairs:
The no admittance sign is no deterrent.
The iridescence of your skirt is captivating
But all I can remember is living in a castle like this one
When I was a little blonde nothing
And feeling the way I do now,
As if there's been no transformation, no progress.
Maybe there has,
And this band must be pretty great
To keep this many old white people dancing so enthusiastically
For such a long time:
An ancient one with a Christmas-themed vest
Foxtrots with a once-lady in a polyester pants suit
Thin hair dyed roofing-tar black, suede kitten heels clacking.
The world's a **** strange place.
Even if we feel like we aren't quite awake,
We'll adjust our stockings and fill our plates
With that mystery-shrouded gelatinous citrus dessert
And our plastic cups with apple cider, light beer, 7-Up.
Endure a few more minutes on this rented dancefloor with me
Because they're playing love shack
And who doesn't smile at the mere notion of the B-52s?
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:10 PM UTC
Foolishness of Jehovah
exceeds the wisdom of Mankind;
torture by crucifixion
was to serve as a deterrent
to stop all forms of crime.
Inhumane treatment
demonstrates insatiable blood thirst
in a vain attempt to bring out
the best character of man
by placing World's justice system first.
However, death of the Innocent Lamb,
a perfect sacrifice God did decree
to bridge the gap of sin
using Man's worst punishment
in a twist of spiritual irony.
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
If you don't mind Mr Betts,
Can I call you Mr Betts?
Yes? Great
Mr Betts,
I'm going to keep this brief
i'd like to go through a few Q&A's
Off the record as always
And no apologies
~~~
Have you ever tried not being a priick?
Or attempted to not mess up shhit?
Every feeding and helping hand,
Innocently presented,
Got bit
Your past can't always be the culprit
The future shouldn't be viewed as unimportant
That opens the door for thoughts of forfeit
Forced to be reactant
Bilt a bridge to get over it
The craftsmanship is always immaculate
Admired from entrance to exit
Then, in the very next moment,
There's always a head turn to confirm it
A ***** and Gomorrah double take to make sure the thing stayed lit
Though you've never turn to stone or **** a brick
It's not a one time incident
I'm sensing that punishment is no longer a deterrent
It isn't, isn't it?
The troubling news is...you guessed it
Everyone's reclaiming their investment
Or eating the cost, willing to take the loss just to be done with it
Setting a telling precedent of embarrassment
One with an abundance of resentment
All the while, this battle internal is constant
Brought on ironically by an antidepressant
Raging against tendencies of a suicidal mindset
It's crazy how ugly things tend to get,
Within a quarter of a heart beat minus a minute
In other words, it's instant
Good luck, you're gonna need it."
©2024
Apr 15, 2024
Apr 15, 2024 at 1:08 PM UTC
are always a journey,
hours can move so slow, or pass by quickly
somehow, we think of good times and bad times
back to our innocent days........and stubborn ways...
late hours could bring out perfect landscapes,
or, chilling moonscapes, from a fecund mind
every corner, every moment, every gust of wind
every act...becomes an incipient inspiration,
then come verses on existence and experiences,
our awakenings.....impressions on love's essence,
newfound feelings...we write about God's presence,
we question concepts on life here on earth, and
life thereafter.....wondering, if Heaven, or hell
occurs right here on earth, in our midst, or deep within
ourselves...or, maybe, in another sphere...different...
my folks often told us then, maybe as a deterrent,
"Heaven and hell, are places....for consequences
of our earthly actions...they're afterlife occurences..."
Sally
Copyright November 18, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
A new found enjoyment, not heaven sent
Still drawn to it like a moth to a flame
Don't share in my regret, promise to stay distant
I couldn't bare to see you in this much pain
Find me ambivalent to some extent
To take another step if it's in vain
Notice I'm hesitant to place a bet
L's stack shame on top of shame atop my name
Life itself's a debt, lest we forget
The plot and grave are one in the same
A dark passenger resident denise me residence
How did I lose access to my own brain
To myself I'm a threat, morality bent
Just so I'm not always going against the grain
Don't care 'bout bein' relevant, never permanent
But pain finds a way to remain
No clue what it meant is a poor argument
Would rather not waste time trying to explain
One day you might get it, wouldn't count on it
Strange to be your very own ball and chain
Go 'head and attempt it, see no safety net
You WILL become one with the terrain
Flesh and bone, neck and neck racing to pavement
Then witness the insane riddled membrane
Always defiant, against my better judgement
Probably should have stayed in my own lane
No deterrent to embracing my inner deviant
A full embrace of the profane
Won't seek atonement, least not at the moment
I only wish the only option was to remain
There's a death certificate, a signed suicide document
The growing black mark on my heart is more than a stain
So here I sit, trying to make sense of it
Unknown, alone and forgotten out in the rain
Selfimprisonment, a life sentence recipient
The issues with my DNA, infecting every strain
©2023
May 13, 2023
May 13, 2023 at 9:22 PM UTC
I once passed by an old lady's garden,
Lined with colored rose bushes, it was like Heaven!
I stopped...I stood, admiring.
The roses were in full bloom that morning.
They were quite tall, like small trees side by side.
Then I noticed other walkers also stopped by.
Beside me, behind me, they were standing,
Sighing, admiring.
Any place, anywhere it stands,
Attention, it instantly commands
Its petals speak of beauty, of fragrance,
To some, they symbolize unspoken devotion.
Its different colors are known to represent
Feelings, specifically, lovers' emotions.
Underneath its hard spiked body, it still is soft.
Its thorns have sharp perfect points
A protective threat, so
inherent,
A powerful deterrent
For those with evil intent.
Its sweet-smelling petals become softer
When held by hands so tender,
To the birds and the bees, they are a teaser,
Butterflies, even dragonflies,
They cannot resist to perch...
We human beings
Can never resist a sniff, a touch,
Love is the stem of a rose, we still dare hold
We disregard the thorns so bold.
In life, there are pricking scares known, yet ignored.
Like the leaves of a rose, we have hidden spikes, our own stories untold,
Our hearts, our feelings are very delicate,
When the arrows hit, ...they're easy to captivate.
But you see,
A rose stands tall
Proud as a concrete wall,
It bows a bit, it gives way
When blooms bear too much weight,
When things seem to always be a prelude
And, we wait for trying moments to conclude.
But when a morning so new
Greets a rose with its cold, fresh dew
Miraculously, it again stands tall,
Proud as a concrete wall.
It survives through the seasons,
"Sleepy" in winter, not at all dying,
Just patiently waiting.
It speaks beyond words, beyond reasons,
For underneath,
It lives.
In its silence,
It survives.
A
rose will
never be a
rose, without its
rough surfaced
leaves and
tho
r
n
......s......
::::::::
:::::
:::
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
a roadkill feast, this doe that met truck bumper the black night before
now in the Texas sun, talons and beaks make easy work of eyeballs and entrails
the asphalt a convenient griddle, slow cooking dead deer, while the ravenous birds dine
somewhere in the brush, a childless mother, with no incantation to bring her baby back
this creature without words only senses a void--nipples no longer gnawed and ******
what mourning for this loss, now attended to by buzzards fast filling their guts
until I come upon them, my own bumper approaching at warp speed
my metal beast to avenge this desecration
with a twist of my wrist, a turn of tires
fast from the red road a flapping of blue-black wings--all but one escapes my wrath
he took too long to take flight, unaware my grill could **** with such impunity
a simple twist of the wrist, a bump, a thump, and one less vulture feeds on the dead
above him, his brethren wait, riding cool currents -- my execution but a brief deterrent to their wake
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
There is the iron gate.
It’s ornate.
A work of art.
Not really a deterrent to anyone that yearns to be beyond it.
It’s just a gate.
But it’s the start of the journey that will begin at the long driveway that holds us apart.
But it’s just a gate.
It’s pretty but it won’t hold me back.
It’s just another barrier to your heart.
The large mahogany doors that stand closed to me are just that.
Closed
But not for long.
Open for me, I can hear you singing our song
Open!
Bring me into your outer world.
It won’t be long.
The marble foyer is cold.
The chandelier?
Bold!
The emptiness is a blessing in disguise. I know you are watching
I can feel your eyes, upon me, a gentle caress upon my inviting skin.
You don’t fool me,
I can feel your sin.
Please, you invited me in.
The hallway is cold and dark, the cold of the rooms that are left and right of me is stark.
There is no fire burning in these outer rooms. No life for me to wonder about and yet, I’m here, wandering aimlessly in these empty halls, and the echo of my lonely moan is projected back to me on an angry shout.
Where could you be about?
I’m drifting past the library that is filled with your intelligence
And past the solar filled with unearthly blooms that drown me in their fragrance
But there is no other sign of life
I walk the raw edge of madness upon a finally honed knife
Madness is gladly pressing upon me and its pungent aroma is rife
But I’ll continue to glide toward an essence that is pure
Because it calls out to me.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Listening.
Asking.
Wanting to know that what is coming is sure.
Down barren hallways and steps of stone.
I’ve traveled them all.
I did it alone
Across a landscape that was draped in a colored shroud
I stepped into a chamber that was devoid of all sound.
I’m here
You’re there in front of the fire
Surrounded by nothing, you stare at the flames that reflects back all your ire.
Your mirth, your understanding, your passiveness is greedily eaten by the hungry lick of a relentless flame
But as I glide silently to your side and cast a mercurial look at the hearth, I watch the roaring fire become soothing warmth and know that I have gained your inner sanctum and your life will never be the same.
Douse the fire in the cold hard hearth
I will forever be your flame
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
So numerous were the pits and gashes dotting Walsutaddel's frown that, looking at it, one was tempted to apply to it a thin coating of crushed shale for the purposes of examination (at the natural but, sadly, not at all deterrent horror of Walsutaddel himself). Endearing as this characteristic may have been, however, the deep pits of his eyes caught one slightly off guard, and so it was that many a potential acquaintance was driven away after an initially being so taken fascinating molding of the poor wretch. This is mind, it should be no great mystery that the face that delighted and lured in so many passers-by was contorted in such an expression of sorrow, but it was rare, one having seen the eyes of this beast and thus having the information absolutely necessary for this inference, that one gave the creature a further thought, to the exclusion, of course, of the universal and, one might say, basically human, shudder, if that can be considered a thought at all. In addition to the marred canvas of his face, the only other qualities to which one could apply the term «alluring» were a severely mangled spinal column, at some points reaching the regularity of a helix and at others simply resembling the path of a garden hose draped haphazardly over a stretch of hilly terrain, and a pair of wrists somehow more flaccidly attached than if they'd lacked bone and ligament altogether. The rest of his physiognomy was of such terrible shape and demeanor as to be totally unworthy of description.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
I've often wondered why the sun has to set,
but lately i've been cursing its rise
for darling I love the way the candle lights your eyes.
I suppose,
I shun the conception that the sun will expose
the intricacies of my insecurities and depths of my woes.
i want to gyrate in my groves
and triumph over my pain
but the weather man in my pupils only predicts rain,
so why does the sun have to rise?
this darkness is a deterrent for my sweltering eyes
and in your perfection, my sweet, i must wear a disguise,
so keep the sun at bay, so my imperfection tries.
T.S
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
karl marx wrote in 1844 once i have money i am no longer bound by my individuality i am ugly but i can buy for myself the most beautiful women therefore i am not ugly for effect of ugliness its deterrent power is nullified by money did you hear what he said? i am ugly but i can buy the most beautiful woman written over 150 years ago but it’s still true women are commodities slaves provider has too much money used to getting his way wants control yet intended outcome is reversed recipient grows sick of accommodating provider’s demands eventually no *** nobody wins how many gorgeous women are lonely untouched longing? truth is provider is too insecure to allow possibilities experiment ok you be the man ok let’s both be the man woman whatever we live in primitive time karl again if money is bond binding me to human life binding society to me binding me nature man is not money bond of all bonds? can it not dissolve and bind all ties? is it not therefore universal agent of divorce? women get to point where they just expect cheating betrayal beatings i don’t understand how does a person believe that’s how life is explain inversely if you really want a guy treat him like **** this **** has been drilled into us hard-wired ingrained deep down in our psyches even long after you were gone i was still doing stuff trying to please you
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC
Hidden in plain sight
There unseen yet seen by all
Unnoticed as though shielded
More of a protective camouflage
Designed to peer out
Yet not see in
A most effective deterrent to invasion
Keeping what out exactly?
A physical presence
Or an emotional
Still you hid in plain sight
Blending, unnoticed
In a bubble
Can't be seen
So won't be bothered.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
Justice is one thing you should always find
And it’s something not so common today.
If you step out of line
There should be hell to pay
We need a little more retribution
And throw a rope of that tree
If we put a few more in the ground
All those bad boys would think more carefully
Before assaulting that person
Before doing somebody wrong
And once the gun smoke settles
We’ll all meet in the saloon for a victory song
Back in those days my papie said
A man had to face up to what he’d done
We’d either find a great oak tree
Hanging them high or put them to the gun
There just ain’t any deterrent any more
We have to raise our glasses up against evil forces
We got too many gangsters, too much corruption
Order whiskies all round for the men and water for the horses
Today we need to show them who’s boss
The law needs to put a few more bodies in the ground
We need to fins the tallest oak tree and a length of a rope
Let them meet their Maker, that’ll settle them down.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
my actions are always
fast
sometimes void of thought,
sometimes void of vision
i am my own worst enemy
i always have been the greatest deterrent
to my own determination
a damnation within the
hearts beating, a black
hole in my minds eye
my actions are always
fast
sometimes void of thought,
sometimes void of vision
full of feelings, however fleeting, they may be.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
-
A shield is a device used for defense;
It blocks incoming attacks, evading blows.
-
A weapon is a device used for offense;
It performs attacks, which may be blocked by a shield.
-
Shields and weapons are not interchangeable.
A shield is not a weapon.
A weapon is not a shield.
-
When a weapon is used preemptively,
We call it aggression.
-
In the face of aggression,
A weapon used as a shield,
Is called
Revenge.
-
It may be right,
It may be justified,
But it will never keep you safe.
-
Nuclear deterrent.
-
A fine weapon,
But a poor excuse for a shield.
-
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC