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Umi Jun 2018
To a sky which showed no sign of light,
Black smoke was rising, from no other than a flagship which sailed across the stormy ocean, Nagato, ready to fight was however at ease.
Until we encountered two enemy ships, a Kongou and a Tirpitz.
Both of them, with a merciless sight fired everything they got, a hard decision was to be made, who shall hit us if we dodge, who shall not?
The Kongou, landed some hits as the sea consumed the others shells,
Just overpenned, lucky for us it seemed, until we re-adjust our angle,
What does the future hold for one who survived but couldn't protect her friends, as the sun no longer rises these memories return.
It didn't take long, the weakspot of one of them was their petty armor,
Kongou sank, spilling her tears into the water she was unable to escape from, another turn was made, it was the final battle, final hope,
Reparing some damage in the little time we had, Nagato drove like an absolute mad man, left, right continuesly just so our ship would not end up like their Kongou, our citadel was an easy target, after  all.
Shells are to be exchanged, smoke escapes from our guns, this lady was refusing to let her life slip away until she at least do what she could, exhausted and almost out of ammo, we landed a lethal strike.
Watching the enemy ship slip away before our eyes, knowing that Nagato was to sail almost into the same fate made us then realise...
Even if the damage could be repaired and parts exchanged, brought anew and even if we make it back in one piece without capsizing:
Forever will be the marks of battle painted in her burnt, wounded steel.

~ Umi
L B Jul 2018
An early evening gust
broke the back of the day's blaze
Still 90 degrees at eight
in orange haze
Sweat runs down my neck
Through the gorge between my *******
The wind lifts my linen shirt
runs its hands along my sides
reviving memory
of Forest Park
of a blanket in the grass

Where the pines trace
so many faces
Crackling popping kids
stolen matches, running
screaming victorious!
Blowing tin cans up with fire crackers
Bicycles, sparklers, fireworks at dusk
That whole afternoon
I spent hammering caps

Noise really makes us kids
really
especially
annoying

Mom wants us out!
Gone! All of us!
No needs. No excuses!
No cookies! No slices of bologna!
“No more Kool Aid!
Out now!
Out!”

That evening I tried
to dismiss the itchy sweat
of stupid-sister-Suzy-matching-sun-suits
at Gino's family picnic
When some kid
(I don't know?)
between the rigatoni and the sweet corn
Some kid
tosses a sparkler
into box of fireworks
I don't know?
whether to cry or laugh
I was pretty scared
Rockets going off across the lawn
and onto porch
Craze of colors through the trees
Some at eye-level horror!
But the sight of Aunt Nedda
diving under picnic table
Stockings, garter belt upended
Capsized beyond her caring
of uplifted dress

Some images just stay with you, ya know?

July 4th always lands for me
on a firework's ***
"Caps"  are little red rolls of gunpowder dots, originally made to give a snap to toy guns of the 1950s.  We figured out that by layering them and using a hammer, you could get a bigger crack.
Ye got to Fancy this Hearty Stout, Aye,
Soot-soaked with tub-flavoured Laurels of Gold
Now bloke-haste Juggers tick your nerves on-high
And make ye shout the Trumpet-Football-Fold
Yet so, our Celtic Spirit comes to call
For you to Jig their Post-Victorious Dance
Or, if upset, prefer to keep knees on hold
And hope such Font will get you that Romance
Still, never deny those After-Glugs won't count
In palling the Bet for Arsenal's Wear
Sudden Death Match will cause the Team to Mount
And show those Charbarrels a Reason to Tear.
Raise a Swig, to where there Brave Captains be
I take me Share, and drink the Sailor in me.
#guinnessireland
abecedarian Sep 2017
he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!

kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids,
nibble me, near me, close and closer yet
unto the glorious victorious near death experience...

whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside

Columbus
me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower, for thy pleasure,
than execute summary judgement upon me

falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny
my every appeal to
oh my god
for anyone's mercy!

adjudge me then guilty yet again,
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lashing lamentations,
thy incontrovertible evidence,
mine own uncensored revelations
execute me twice,
slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures


she said,  and so I shall, eventually,
do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek

but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out
shotgun
so you must start my dear by following
all the precise driving instructions you just stated,
and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes,
I'm waiting...


too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once pity-please!"

can't can't can't -
she be-witchingly cackled!

then sang to me the lyrical words of a
Nobel Prize winner!

"
You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy
"
^GPS is a permanently attached male guidance system.
The P does nots stand for Positioning.
Diana Sep 2018
I want to look at someone
Someone who's been through
Great sorrow
Or loss
Or heartbreak
Or anything traumatic
With eyes filled
Not with artificial pity
But genuine sympathy
And even to a certain extent
Empathy
I want to look at them
In a way they wish
Others would
In a way that's different
From the fragile being
Many see them as
In a way that makes them
Have hope
Hope that they won't be fragile
For long
But that they will come out
Victorious
And stronger than ever
Before
With my eyes
That see a
Beautifully
Temporarily
Broken
Yet strong
Vessel
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
I am no longer a Roman,
Though my nose would differ.

I'm not Viking,
But my descendants have blonde and red hair.

I am a beneficiary of the dark ages,
The scriptoriums and monasteries
That brought the Greeks and Romans to life.

I am not Gael, though my eyes smile
When I hear the harp and pipes.

Neither am I Saxon nor Norman,
Victorious or defeated.

I, we, have metamorphized,
Casted of the moulted casement,
Spread dry wings and lifted,
Carried on fresh winds
To new worlds
To read, write, fish and hunt,
And I have gathered
My lineage,
Framed it in genetics on my wall,
To point at in fond remembrance
Of what I once was.
Alyana Garcia Jan 2016
Being born in these lands
where love was known
so I carried my heart in both hands
for it is to be shared and shown.

Hope and Faith
filled my body
and I shouted to the stars
because of His glory.

I wouldn’t become coy
in these battles they might see
for joy
has finally stayed with me.

Oh my heart sings
because of a freed soul
and I will spread my wings
for now, I am whole.

Saved by grace
I will lift His name on high
His love never fails
and the fire within will never die
for He is journeying with me
to a victorious life.

-a.g.
Grace E Apr 8
I sit and twiddle my fingers.
Trying to grasp for words,
That will accurately convey
My story.

For many years,
I developed dependency,
On people, parties,  pleasures
For quick, yellow bursts of dopamine.

Escape.
I own a gory past to say the least,
Some details too painful
To divulge in their fullness.

I finally faced myself.
I finally sat down with my past
And I finally stared it
In its ugly face

Radio silence, for days
Tears of the years
Spilled from my heart to my bathroom floor, for days and days.

I traced each repressed memory
Like one who cuts themselves
Would trace their scars
Internal scars are even worse sometimes...

I sat with myself
No distractions, no noise, no friends to talk to, just me, myself and our thoughts.
I screamed to the air.

I was utterly naked,
In front of my deepest pains.
Utterly exposed to the elements.
The fire lapped at my heart.

Finally, the sun rose
And spilled light into my veins
As the weight fell off
I changed my name.

“Who I was.”
Changed to
“Who I am.”

“What I’ve done.”
Changed to
“What I will become.”

“Wanderer”
Changed to
“Warrior.”

And

“Victim”
Changed to
“Victorious.”
few tourists
on this september afternoon

the sun warms
   without sound

the langobard museum
    is closed

next to it
a noisy little waterfall
   flows undisturbed

a boy
keeps flipping flat pebbles
   across the quiet water
   down from the fall

for a few hours
   the past  
   remains victorious
in the clash of centuries

* *
Cividale is another lovely old town in the northeast of Italy. See
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cividale_del_Friuli
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lombards
Dimitris Sarris Jul 2016
Victorious or defeated makes no difference.
Rising from the dirt, rising to fight on.
A village in dust,
a city in ruins,
a nation's weep.
Victorious or defeated makes no difference,
fallen on both accounts.
Faces and figures from another era,
unkown but familiar somehow…  
Hopes and dreams in ruins,
with vengeance in their hearts and
compassion lying within their souls.
For hope might rise again, a beginning of another era.
Fallen watching from afar, war does not determine
who's right or wrong only who's left to remember...
Osiria Melody Mar 13
I.
Quite irritating and aggravating,
Hater tater tots come wailing
Prevailing in their scathing, vapid thoughts

Appreciating their own reflections,
To the likes of Narcissussss
Derailing your train of thought with their words:

Vile arpeggios of "you're mediocre" shift TO
crescendos of "you're incompetent" TO
diminuendos of "you can do it" in hopes of
making you feel better,
Although you know that bit of motivation from
them is a lie—a blatant lie

II.
Quite condescending and stupefying,
Hater tater tots come to knock down your
door of confidence
Prevail in your defense of self-respect and
vow to protect your house of strength

Appreciating your own reflection,
To the likes of humility and empowerment
Derailing their doubts about you with your actions:

Victorious arpeggios of "I'll still write"
shift TO crescendos of "I'm better than my
past selves" TO diminuendos of "I know
I can do it" to stay afloat,
Although you know that the flaming
torch of criticism may burn you now
and then—blatant pain

III.
Amid the tornado of public criticism that
your mind is rotating in,
Amid your deteriorating state of
motivation,
Amid this negativity from
others that is pure B.S.

IV.
Bake the hater tater tots
Burn them with your self-confidence



Melody
3/13/19
Love your poems because you should appreciate your work the most.
JDL Nov 2018
They say everyone is a winner
But if to ‘win’ is to be victorious
Wouldn’t that mean that we have all lost?
Allowing a wall
Before their rational
Thinking stand,
Inured to their heinous deed
Of every brand,
From head to toe
Involved in corruption grand,
Also while fellow citizens
Gasp for air,
Not giving an ounce of care,
Barefacedly they dare
Unjust war to declare!
"Valorous,wiping you out
We shall make the land bare!"

"Chained, cruel and corrupt
Honest - thieves and cut-throats
Us,to court you took
To punish us by the book
Such a move by hook or crook
We shall abort
Haven't it dawned on you the import?
--the select few
From the palace to port
As autocracy is our wont,
And zone of comfort
If stripped of this right
For us it will not be all right!

Though finger countered,
We hail from an ethnic group,
Marked brave
And which we could mobilize,
As our selfishness and brutality
It seems oblivious to realize.

Though during our hay days
Its plight we failed to mollify
Massaging its ego
The call for unjust war
We shall amplify
Unrepentant ,
We should
Wage a fight.

Though some of us
Are on the run,
As blood is thicker than water,
With the credulous
That fight for us
Emerge victorious we can.
To reinstate
Rule of the gun
On which
The international
Community
Has put a ban.


But
"To flee pang-of-conscience
How fast be the pace?
No need  it is no where in place"
For those on par with fascists and blood suckers that try to hide in an ethnic jungle.Also, who want to proceed with their diabolic act.How could one embezzle in billions while starved-pregenant -and-baby carrying -mother vendors are forced to pay tax by a corrupt government? How could one suspend a plastic full of water on a male's reproductive *****?
DivineDao Jun 2016
Lush
Languid
Lustful
Love
For
Words

Mutually Aspiring Divine

That's
What
Your'
Made of ~
The intoxicating
Insightful poetic wine
Blueberry Great Grapes Man.
Sweet as brown sugar
Soft as white cream.
Transient as clouds.
Hard as an oak.
Surpassing the treacherous doubts.
Resilient in any thundering
Storm.
Conjuring many a form.
Fine as a
Feather,
Meak as a black lamb.
'
Your dearly beloved (to me)
Pen deeped in your own blood
Bursts with such vigour, emotions
Aloof n' will to overcome any barrier
Regardless of the frightening thickest night, 
Regardless of the thrilling day's fights to fight,
 Tongues tried, times right,
Stolen kisses n' space flights.

To no
Avail
Your opponents are always bent and beaten.
Whilst your darling's spiced by you and smitten.

A victorious emerald sword is raised at times
You write such brilliant poetry, my heart conjured by simple confession:

You're
    W r i l l i a n t
(= writing brilliant poetry =)

As a long awaited lover, as a surfing wave coming
To wash and refresh the craving shore sands
And crash upon them with its powerful beauty

So please, please, flood
Us, again n' again with your artistry
With your asymetry in detail, yet the golden Proportions, us humble servants of delightful poetic
Words living with our wings in the mystique mists of any Real Poetry Realms.
Us, sound surfing lunatics
Godspeeding!!!!!!!!!!!!
Into eternal flames.
Directly
Madly
Inevitably
Into the nearest galactic
Great Round
Of the Rounds
Burning bright.
Melting one and the other thight.
With your central desire.
Pierced
Secretly
Gifted
Enchanted, amazed
I taste of your wrilliants
As my vigil sighs are heard
Even by the love sickening palor;
By the walls in my intimate room
With the view over This Mind.
A poet upon me: Wrilliant. Kind.
Pressed to the excited *****.
Breathing in
Breathing out
In an ecstatic rhythm.
Written to You ~ My dearest Wrilliant
Love for Poetry

Wrilliant  ( neologism ). .  . meaning . .

1 A   brilliant   writer   of   poems
2 To   write   brilliantly
ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of hell
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
Jon Thenes Apr 19
‘****** is Meat’;
The Victorious Say
as the Spoilings of War
are tilled over in a Latrine
Gore-Flowers shall overthrow
and the next Eden Project is fed :
a Beacon for The Lovers to uncover
....and disregard
    ungratfully fertile
Hillary Magee Feb 27
Faces passing
Stances
Walking in
I see them
Coming in
Off the ships
Looking for
A restful spot
A haven
Maker’s Mark
No raven
Has loch’d my heart
So


You will be victorious
Your men are circling
They’re your warriors
And we will forever
Be accommodating
In our
Disposition

And I’m so interested
But I’m always wishing
On you
Kaitlin Evers Oct 2018
Lost. Where am I? Cold earth beneath me; bleak, vast, dripping darkness surrounding me. Alone, and lying at the bottom of the Devil's Kettle. I search inside of myself. I am empty. No mettle to stir, nothing inside myself to waken me from this darkness. Drip, drip, goes the saddening darkness enshrouding me. Once I had zeal. It is hard to imagine now. I am a shell, or not at all myself. There is no help. None who know of the black hole in which I lie. And if they did, how could one reach down a hand to lift me up? God! God! God! The One who blessed me with strength, the One who took my strength. Cast me not headlong; lift me up with your victorious right hand. God! God! God! Day upon day I cry out. Day upon day the earth beneath me lifts up.  Pain, pain, it washes away, weighted chains are falling loose, He elevates my sunken earth. Until the hole I lie in is no longer a hole, but is level earth in the light of day. Birds twitter, flowers are in bloom, the sun is shining through the trees. My world completely changed; and better than last I was here. Life and new song are inside of me. God! God! God! Out of the miry bog you have rescued me and strengthened me anew. Praise! Praise! Praise! Blessed be your name!
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