Watch, Trump’s on hunt on Gaza front--
Battlefront turns to waterfront,
For the land all of rocks
Let me think out of box…
In place filled with craters
Ah casino caters,
Like Panama, Greenland,
Mexico, our northland,
Think, ideas I have abundant.
___________________
Happenings |17.02.2025| USA, Political, humour
Note: Trump may be a president, but he also is a realtor.
Categories:
battlefront, humor, political, usa,
Form: Limerick
It is a pitiful display
To belong where you don’t belong
Wanting to rule a former day
A worn out tune of a love song
No longer loved by the crowd
Down with the old King, so long!
The blizzard’s countenance proud
in the Kingdom of the Warm Front
Is quashed by the thundercloud
The waning moon takes affront
As sunbeams begin to amass
All victors leave the battlefront
Popular sentiments pass
Like a crying hourglass
Categories:
battlefront, heartbreak,
Form: Terza Rima
Even those with account large
Do not fancy the least charge:
Men with riches as their badge
Could later on sing a dirge
Try to involve some cheap serge
“We’ve been hit with an iceberg!”
Thus, ‘Charge’ is a word quite harsh,
Its habitual users rash,
Trying their best to sound brash:
Charge’ a bit better than ‘Crash’.
At the battlefront a charge,
At a police station a charge,
For some received service charge,
After a withdrawal charge,
But worse than charge is surcharge:
Delays to phones recharge
Or some strict duty discharge.
Categories:
battlefront, analogy, anger, hate, money,
Form: Rhyme
Not for prized Wristwatch Seiko
Would I wear a Nick Gecko
And there is a sane Beko
Who could drink to “a Gecko”
And permits us to echo
“Beko is your Wall Gecko”
‘The Nick, no fear, re-echo’
Has Beko goals of Decoy?
In Nick ‘Gecko’ Gold’s Alloy?
Just what is wrong with Beko
And where does this dreams anchor?
Nickname for operation
We watch with admiration
Dwelling on strained relations
And men saving their nations:
‘Shooting’ their occupation,
Out of barracks: their station:
Towards battlefront with chants:
“Wall Gecko for you, Doomed Ants”
Categories:
battlefront, adventure, celebrity, funny, war,
Form: Rhyme
In despair and on lockdown
A city is turned into a one horse town
Its people are on the frontline to save the Earth
As all of humanity holds its breathe
Flights canceled, fright heightened
Travelers hustled, prayers recited
Somewhere a hero is taking a risk by treating the infected
A hero is at the borderlines having people inspected
A hero with no name, is taking a bullet for billions across the world
A bullet they can’t see, hear, touch or smell
Their sacrifice a reminder that wherever you come from
The earth is one shared home
Categories:
battlefront, appreciation, health, hero, scary,
Form: Free verse
A self-whispered battle cry
An uplifting quote for another try
With a burdened mind behind a straight face
I have a sense of self like I’m in a dark place
Inconspicuous at the battlefront
Drawn on every single day I confront
A past to escape and a future to nose
I am always one threat away from a lost cause
Regrets and fears dimension each day
Dead ends and blind curves map my way
Picking broken pieces of myself and mopping spills
I have learnt to front chills and thrills
You won’t see me rolling up sleeves
Or lurking in a thicket with rustling leaves
You won’t see me in a belligerent pose
My war is waged against inner wounds and flaws
I am heated but never bubble over with anger
I am insulted but never stumble over due to slander
I absorb the inevitability of sorrow and pain
I turn to verities to diffuse the intrusion of hate
The silence of violence is what I dread
Like the wordless cry of the mutes with a fright
An internal fray so isolated and unheard
In the depth of my heart is where I will win the quiet fight
Categories:
battlefront, absence, abuse, anger, black
Form: Rhyme
Feeling deep regret for our misguided debt
Which gives us pause realizing the hurt we’ll cause
So let's raise our glasses to the lads and lasses
Who will bear the brunt on the battlefront
***
October 14, 2019
F F I series 28 leonine
Brian Strand, sponsor
Categories:
battlefront, conflict, death, drink, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
Years on the rack.
Stretched out and winding
Cogs and broken pieces
Shrapnel.
While I
Box upon box.
The unburied dead. The hatchet.
Littering my surroundings
The casings of a former life
The scorched earth. The salt.
The endless devastation.
While you
Small town to small town.
A view of the sea.
Several hundred miles from
The battlefront.
In your armour made of paper
And your cogs
And your litterings
Of endless vast rubbish.
A gust of wind so strong
It could send your flat and weightless
Two dimensional sense of self
Flying. Splintering.
Lost.
I am recovered
Piling away
Myself with the remnants.
Box upon box.
The traitor will bleed.
Categories:
battlefront, anger, betrayal, death, destiny,
Form: Free verse
By Mark Miller © 12/09/2014
Divergent views across vile crest waves smile high the creeping crawl
Vacant recall behind will's fate corners awaits prodigy built city sprawls
Fearing furious memory's cradle under moons momentary falls
Departing sun drain dendrites dying beside pleasure land hotel
Pharmaceutical particles undermines wasted potential decay
Habitual filled dread remedy sealed bottle supply spent photocopy
Demented frozen posture detached paragons future parallax
Denatured entropy of unstable battlefront beacons fights happenstance
Enraged estrange movement frowns condition mingled disturbance,
Hassled hates impatient repression debased frames acquaintance-
Paranoia begins within kept crypt entombed from friends lovers bones
Supernatural surprise wakes the panic front tantrum born alone
Breaths cold howl vexed of thought behind fury times disorder
Subliminal sequence reveals foggy haze guilt by nights no quarter
Adorn the love less feeling conceals feeble rabble blood loss stealth
Movements uncertain impel stellar selves
Categories:
battlefront, abuse, angst,
Form: Ballad
At times,
I do feel like
those women in history
who were waiting
for their men
to return
from the battlefront,
except for the fact,
that I don't need to learn
how to shoot with a gun
or struggle with a knife
while you are at war
with yourself.
Categories:
battlefront, history, how i feel,
Form: Free verse
the hidden truths the silent truths
you come to bury me but i just may bury you
the burden carries me further by every step
the pain i suffered has carried me so close to hell
you better carefully measure the methods you be using against me
and if they're excessive toward my demise then i wish you success
nothing to reminisce but only my regrets as i counter them with subliminal messages
stung by the whelps that com from bull netals
i can see the mountains from miles the countrysides full of nothing but rebels
as a catalyst to catapults the counter measure to balance the force of the battlefront, tragedies and triumphs, and principalities and the power's force
and frankly yes that's a mouthful like a sea of troubles so far at this point we are incompatible, a branch snaps cracks feel the power shift ,a shallow heart feels the shadow's kiss, from where the war was raged from here to Shiloh to the cornfields
Categories:
battlefront, games, words,
Form: Prose Poetry
Tall and strong;
Always pushing on.
Never once looking back,
Straight up and stiff back.
My heart was and is yours,
But you turned me down and sent me away.
You might be military, baby,
But I don’t care.
Hold me and love me, but leave my heart there.
I want you to be mine, but distance is your barricade with which you hide.
I fear you’ll hide behind it forever,
With or without my dreams.
I see you walking away or standing on enemy lines,
Looking back onto my side of the fence and wondering to cross it or not.
You have your gun, you have your uniform, and you have your armor.
You doubt me because of what happens with others, and you ignore the others who have succeeded.
Why not give me a chance?
Let me show you I can be who you want.
Ignore just letting me be a distance away.
Please; please I beg you; don’t walk away and leave me as I am.
Categories:
battlefront, dedication, hope, people, romance,
Form: Ballad
The drum in my dreary chest
Beats and booms to the rhythm
Of coughing cannon
The commander at the backline
Sings the soldier’s motto and stomps succinctly
Underneath the uttered ululation
Lay a lean line going thus:
“Turn back to your tomb”
“Destroy the enemy”
‘I will dodge the diving bullet’
“Protect your country”
‘I will protect my dear life’
“The country sent you here”
‘Poverty drove me here’
“Time to act is now”
‘Indeed; well said by a backline commander’
This is not our battle but my battle
I will battle with rage like a belittled bear
And conquer the enemy and the immortality fear
My household awaits my back sojourn with sunken hearts
It is their smiles and not
The dutiful salute by the commander
And a firm handshake that feigns friendship
That commands my commitment
In a dingy hut I will sit
And listen to my grandmother's tales
As I watch my grandchildren grow
Someday
Categories:
battlefront, allegory, dedication, faith, hope,
Form: Free verse