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Best Armed To The Teeth Poems | Poetry

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The Best Armed To The Teeth Poems

Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mahanaim

Mahanaim

Israel’s father, Jacob
had lived a life of tricks and cons, 
till at last he’d met his match of matches
when he came face to face with his mighty God.

All because he had conned his brother, Esau
out of his life’s most precious thing, 
it was the birthright of the first born son
but to Esau, his stomach came first so it didn’t mean a thing.

After many years of living with Laban,  Jacob’s trickster father-in-law
he took leave with his wives, servants and cattle and headed back to his home,
but hearing that Esau was hot on his trail with 400 men
he was fearful and thinking, ‘Is this the way it was all going to end”?

Jacob was so troubled, how could he fight so many
with my wives, and servants and such a small little band,
yet he stopped by the side of the road for some much needed sleep
and found to him, the Lord’s mighty outstretched hand in a place he call, Mahanaim.

Yes, it is true, the Lord pulled back Heaven’s canvas
and revealed to him, God’s infinite provision and His waiting second camp,
Who was armed to the teeth and ready to defend son, Jacob
by giving revelation of what it means to live by God’s Word’s lamp.

King David to, trusted in the provision of the Lord
while running from Absalom, his son,
David also came to Mahanaim
and found restoration, healing, and the battle now won.

Now, in these times, we to are learning the secrets
of leaning totally on His breast,
doing all that we can do for us and others
and watching and trusting our Father to do all of the rest.

Written by:  Marilyn S. Jennings


Copyright © Marilyn S Jennings | Year Posted 2015


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Who Assumes Responsibility

Armed to the teeth, but not in the head 
Soon the ground will be covered with dead 

Shooting and fighting, explosions galore 
Wounded fall to the ground, see the blood pour 

Technology making the casualties increase 
It seems that our warlike nature won’t cease 

Skirmishes and battles, the war has no end 
Doctors perform triage, some wounded they mend 

Confidence slipping away from the troops every hour 
Brute force and ammunition, the measure of power 

Each side has their losses but keep fighting on 
The reason for war is all a big con 

Economy the reason, false causes the shield 
Covered up by the blood of the dead on the field 

Stone cold, committed, their expression soon thaws 
Enlisted, now dying for another man’s cause


Copyright © Eric Niehoff | Year Posted 2013


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Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 18

Villanelle : The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 18

World in which is ingrained innate violence
Where nation-States all hell-bent on blitz wars
He who abstains from doing harm commits offence

Is branded traitor parasite perched on fence
On conscientious objector shine no stars
World in which is ingrained innate violence

Even cowards by nature obtain licence
To kill at will armed to the teeth in holy wars
He who abstains from doing harm commits offence

The non-violent sport no medals bright dense
Nor do they rape their loved ones inflicting scars
World in which is ingrained innate violence

Boosting ego is the craft of violence
Insecure feelings drive muscle-man jaws
He who abstains from doing harm commits offence

Do no harm and attain pure inner silence
Resort to arms let rage Raskolnikov indoors
World in which is ingrained innate violence
He who abstains from doing harm commits offence

©  T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015 


Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015


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POEMS YOU WON'T LIKE

This world is lovely
Only a pinch of salt

#
He slipped out the back door
He attacked the wrong bed

#

World is so great
Linda Andie Eve Paul Olive...infinity

#

My wife kissed a wrong man
me

#
I cannot love balloons
They have no hearts
#

My dog sniffed my fingers
Felt them last year's sausages

#

I loved her armed to the teeth
My wife a dentist

#
Ink well was dry
Heat of the poems

#
eel babies are playing
primordial vibrations

#
My wife is a poltergeist's daughter
I own a dancing house

#
My neighbor's wife was briefest 
In a bathing suit

#
Birthday suit and death day suit
are the same

#
I met my wife in a goblin's party
She was gobbling turkey 
#
I search myself in a grain of sand
In the universe of my wife

#
Susie my anachronistic wife
Straddling Rip Van Winkle 

#
I saw a pterodactyl was laying eggs
In my wife's mouth when I attempted a kiss

#
Poets,I cannot be blamed
How can I love an invisible wife?

#
I was surfing the girl
Could not earn brownie points

#

Vultures are  knocked silly by the impact of
Love

#
She blushed and
Sky became red

#
 Don't carp about the poor service at the restaurant Susie
They were in a daze when they saw you

#

Susie my wife went to neighbor's house
Found fault with him and slapped to the pride of his spouse

#
I can't trust wife of that ilk
She steals my Meenie's milk

#
Ghosts are lovely people
They give us company in death

#
Bird's eye view
A stomping balloon my wife Moondew








Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2015


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' TOOTHY FRUITY FAITH ODE '

============================================================ Blind...with the beauty and symmetry of nature Can't espy the astonishing and sedate scenes of ardour Just living with the greatest and blindest darkness Imageless and almost senseless... Deaf...with the mellifluous and profound music of amity Can't harken the serene and blithe tune of natural creativity Just living with my own nothingness Dumb and almost senseless... Mute...can't explode feelings and heartstrings through words and expositions Can't speak and expound my real emotions Can't shout out loud, just living with silence - soundless Dumb and almost senseless... Paralyzed...can't accomplish what was desired to achieve Can't act, can’t execute, can’t move - there's no relieve Just living with myself, occupied by loneliness Cripple and now USELESS Balked, feeble, depraved, weak - a YOUNG LOSER Living with the lies through one's teeth? Will never be ... And will never SURRENDER Still BREATHING BELIEVING... KNEELING... PRAYING... ~~~Armed to the TEETH with Faith and Devotion~~~ ============================================================


Copyright © jun-jun villanueva | Year Posted 2011


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Blood in, Blood out

They stand on the corner anything you want they got,
Some do the deals some run the money and some call shots,
All of them are ready to pop at the first signs of a problem,
Smith n Weston and Glock know just how to solve them,
These boys are no joke they stay with one in the chamber,
They be the real definition of a true gang banger,
Quick to snatch a life in a min with no second guessing,
Putting snitches in body bags so that they learn they lesson,
This isn't a hobby for them this is everyday life,
They married to the game no time for kids and wife's,
Blood in and blood out or sometimes plata o plomo,
Turning your back on your family is a major nono,
It's getting crazy on these streets these boys run in groups,
Most of them were trained by the army so it's groups of troops,
Armed to the teeth with new age armor and weapons,
If you see them on your block get your self to stepping,
Cause they show no remorse innocent or not,
When bullets start flying everyone's getting shot.

~DM2~


Copyright © DANIEL MARTINEZ | Year Posted 2016


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BASIL THE RAT

BASIL THE RAT

 
A glimpse was all I
saw at first.
A fleeting one at
that.
It took a while to
register
That I’d seen a rat.

I peeped into the 
hole to see
If it was still about.
Imagine my surprise
to find
That it was peeping
out.

We sized up one
another then,
The atmosphere 
intense.
We both squared
up our shoulders,
Time for combat
to commence.

Now to the local
hardware store,
My weapons must
be bought.
No room for 
sentiment in this,
Our battle must be 
fought       

Armed to the teeth,
I headed home,
That rat was going
down.
But as I headed to
my door,
My smile changed
to a frown.

The rat was sitting,
bold as brass,
Beside the garden
fence.
As I approached he
didn’t run,
He didn’t even tense!

I dropped my bags
and yelled at him,
And gave my hands
a clap.
‘I’m ready now! You 
won’t last long,
‘Cos I have bought
a trap!’

Trap duly primed and
loaded up
With rat-attracting 
food,
I felt I had already 
won
And this improved 
my mood.

Next morning I
rushed out to see
If my great plan
had worked.
The food was 
gone, the trap
was sprung,
The rat sat near.
It darn well smirked.

‘Beginners luck,’ I
shouted out,
Convinced it couldn’t
last.
I threw a stone, but
missed of course,
The rat was far too
fast.

Each night I had
another try,
It always was the 
same.
The rat, he wasn’t
giving in,
He seemed to love
this game.

Battle fatigue was
setting in,
I couldn’t beat that
rat.
He wasn’t dead. In
fact, it seemed
That rat was getting fat.

I watched the rat. The 
rat watched me.
I tried to read his mind.
A strange thought 
formed inside my head:
‘He thinks I’m being
kind.’

Amazed was I when
he reached out
And beckoned me
outside.
This gesture, although
very strange,
Could not have been
denied.

So there we stood, 
me facing him.
His whiskers twitched.
He clearly spoke.
My jaw dropped and
my eyes popped out,
Sure this was one big
joke,

‘My name is Basil, I
thank you for the 
food
‘You leave for me
each night,
‘Although that dish 
is dangerous,
‘It gives me such a
fright.

‘Can I do something
nice for you,
‘To show you how I
feel?
‘You’re good to me
and I’m nice back.
‘That is a friendly 
deal.’ 

One thought popped
straight into my
mind.
No need to search 
for more.
‘I’d take it as a friendly
sign
If you could move
next door.’   


BY
DARRYL ASHTON 


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2015


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Nebulous streams clouding my brain





I sail on an ocean of custard and jam

Aboard a ship made of biscuits and bread.

I am the sweet toothed pirate I am,

And clearly not right in the head.

Nebulous streams clouding my brain

Give me some peculiar thoughts,

I wear a vest made of liquorice sticks

And a pair of marzipan shorts.

With my motley crew of gingerbread men

Who are armed to the teeth with balloons,

We go round the world, kidnapping cakes

While we gorge on sweet macaroons.












Copyright © Gary Smith | Year Posted 2016


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Ruby Red

A kiss from her lips are sweeter than honey, sweeter than nectar
a blessing from disaster 
till her kiss spreads the venom from her poison to your brain
the sickest pain, felt from undercover, she hit the biggest the vein
Vanity, she lured you in with vanity
discreetly she lured you in with pleasantries
whispered fantasies of slipping out of her tight red dress
taunting you in distress with constant missteps, oh she's a tease
but a tease armed to the teeth in black leather and lace
to tie you up with a whip over your neck like a noose
pulling the strings harder threatening to kill 
with looks like that, she's guaranteed to have your heart on a string
tugging in tow like a lost abused puppy
but you like the attention you cowardly dog
you like the attention
Those ruby red lips, the perfect actress
you let her spill the milk in your ears
a mess you can't clean up, a mess you can't cry over
as you feel you're friends, the very best of friends
but there's a ring of rumors surrounding you like daffodils on a banister
while she the pretender is the ring leader
Trust in your trust and you'll find you're the deceiver
being deceived by the pair of slender sleek legs you claim to detest
but you know you have the fondness in your heart
for those ruby red heels stepping all over your self esteem
You want to be the prom queen, date the prom queen
dominate the social scene
dance with the angel of the school
her hair, a waterfall of grace
twin green eyes, a jade dragon engraved in twin marble stones
you're in love in more ways than one
yet you dance with the cold air of the outside world
as you're mortified that she winked at you from across the universe
stealing a kiss from the rival you loathe
stealing your dreams, stealing your world, shattering your songs
Now you sit here at your computer, typing a wish list
counting all the wishes you wish were true
but all the wishes you conjure up involve her and you
letting this ruby red seductress, a leeching parasite, envelope you


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016


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Souper Report - Washington

Here’s your roaming reporter, the Average Joe,
Always reporting, always on the go.
I’m reporting today on the impending battle,
As state troops amass in the city of Seattle.

Much to the surprise of our neighbors up North,
The state of Washington is marching forth
To capture Vancouver Island and Victoria city
Because, being Canadian, she’s much too pretty.

“We’ll just extend the longitude in a straight line;
Gerrymandering is accomplished all of the time”,
Says the proud Governor of the Evergreen State,
Hoping the Mounties rally too late.

“Victoria, for Canada, is too far south
Sitting right dab in the middle of Puget Sound’s mouth,
To Washington state she rightfully belongs
And we shall take her with a rallying throng.

“British Columbia can find a new capitol city.
Vancouver, from the Olympics, everyone knows is so pretty.
Just give us Victoria without any fight
To keep peace between us, you know it’s just right.”

So off I now ride in this navy of ferries
On a surprise attack with a border to vary
Armed to the teeth with passport in hand
Which all of us need now to enter this land.

When next I am able to send a report to you
I’m hoping this seizure is successfully through
And Washington State will have Victoria to claim
As a city of her own, adding more to our fame.


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010


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eerie calmness

The crazy in me came out last week,
but I don't care???

Normally my house would be armed to the teeth,
waiting for some form of retribution,
normally i'd be bouncing off the walls with paranoia,
darting in and out the windows.

My mind thinks about it,
but i'm not fazed,
i'm calm,
my mind just won't fixate on it.

eerie calmness....

but I still wait for whats to come.
death comes to us all...




Copyright © Murray Mahauariki | Year Posted 2012


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Presidential Inauguration 2017 - Poetic Screed - Part2

diametrically opposing forces miscarriage 
   and abort, cancel and retry to upend Vanity Fair 
   where trump defiantly makes an en rode
gauging Bernie sanders troopers as “enemy” phalanx 
   pitting American fighters, who obediently unload
lead unleashing harsh supreme weapons with soldiers 
   donned in flak jacketed mode
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            
heavily donned in trappings of warfare gear 
plus armed to the teeth), this haint no rumor i hear
meted measure marshaled, whence King Trump Lear
make America great again pogrom 
   comes to life after flickr of dawn silhouettes mere
minutes USA ship of state horizontally bobs and weaves near 
awakening village people amidst misty sea ap pear
blinded by shining scimitar reflection 
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *           
   along creeks edge spurs one o pond deer 
to stand stock still while rustle slingshot braced 
   for martial law, nor blood will he spear
as vocal demonstrators protest tear
against stony faced bridging 
   gaited donnybrook game NOT oh veer
no matter devilishly exuberant, 
   fervently ferocious bear breathes 
hatred inciting loftily during tenure 
   per un four chin net year.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            
a deplorable basket Case gussied up 
   evoking a charade, 
façade, and instagram faux officer on warpath against the frayed
Citizenry comprise United States of amerika, which grade
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
caparisoned chief Commander looses fury of tyranny laid
upon righteous leftists accuses collusion with milch maid
ghost of Rasputin, where sirens 
   of air raids wail in sync payed
with whine of droning planes drowning sashayed.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
legitimate insurrection, where civilians risk 
life and limb in the name of inalienable rights, where obelisk
of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, 
   exemplifies constitutional directory - enumerates disc
course disallowing annulment, 
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
   per forefathers/mothers freedom gave present generation heft, 
   imbuing justice and keeping 
   a lid against kleptocracy, no matter cherished capitalistic 
   covenants teetering on the brink after electric body frisk
being swept into dustbin of history. 


Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017


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An Ode to Weary War

Within the stand where armies hide
with little but sticks and stones 
come forces too large to abide
who’ve traveled far from home.
Armed to the teeth with planes and tanks
they’re here to garner wealth
for when the rebels meet their end           
they’ll be little need for thanks
and certainly none for stealth
and little left but corpses to attend.

Civil war bring the vultures out in men
the mercenaries who fight for gold
the corporate war mongers rush to attend
The starving do as they’re told
for why not fight for mother land
and die for those left behind
a bullets death is easier than wasting
and is what man’s honor demands
If only, if only, man was less unkind    
less prone too warring and debasing.


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011


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The World's Gone Crazy

Seems as the day of end draws near
That humanity begins to fall apart
Bring about a prophecy
That you want to avoid but instead you start

The world's gone crazy and we all suffer
At the hands of the armed

Mentally screwed, armed to the teeth
The bodies fall upon your feet
It's like a virus that's slowly spreading
One that the sane are always dreading

That day, God was a man
Who was far too gone to understand
Took several lives into his hand and crushed them down
When will the tragedies end?

We suffer, all too scared to step outside lest we are killed
The world's gone crazy, that we all can see
We pray for the lives lost and pray ours don't go unfulfilled
The world's gone crazy, we don't want to see


Copyright © Derek Chos | Year Posted 2012


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BASIL THE RAT

BASIL THE RAT

A glimpse was all I
saw at first.
A fleeting one at
that.
It took a while to
register
That I’d seen a rat.

I peeped into the 
hole to see
If it was still about.
Imagine my surprise
to find
That it was peeping
out.

We sized up one
another then,
The atmosphere 
intense.
We both squared
up our shoulders,
Time for combat
to commence.

Now to the local
hardware store,
My weapons must
be bought.
No room for 
sentiment in this,
Our battle must be 
fought  
     
Armed to the teeth,
I headed home,
That rat was going
down.
But as I headed to
my door,
My smile changed
to a frown.

The rat was sitting,
bold as brass,
Beside the garden
fence.
As I approached he
didn’t run,
He didn’t even tense!

I dropped my bags
and yelled at him,
And gave my hands
a clap.
‘I’m ready now! You 
won’t last long,
‘Cos I have bought
a trap!’

Trap duly primed and
loaded up
With rat-attracting 
food,
I felt I had already 
won
And this improved 
my mood.

Next morning I
rushed out to see
If my great plan
had worked.
The food was 
gone, the trap
was sprung,
The rat sat near.
It darn well smirked.

‘Beginners luck,’ I
shouted out,
Convinced it couldn’t
last.
I threw a stone, but
missed of course,
The rat was far too
fast.

Each night I had
another try,
It always was the 
same.
The rat, he wasn’t
giving in,
He seemed to love
this game.

Battle fatigue was
setting in,
I couldn’t beat that
rat.
He wasn’t dead. In
fact, it seemed
That rat was getting 
fat.

I watched the rat. The 
rat watched me.
I tried to read his mind.
A strange thought 
formed inside my head:
‘He thinks I’m being
kind.’

Amazed was I when
he reached out
And beckoned me
outside.
This gesture, although
very strange,
Could not have been
denied.

So there we stood, 
me facing him.
His whiskers twitched.
He clearly spoke.
My jaw dropped and
my eyes popped out,
Sure this was one big
joke,

‘My name is Basil, I
thank you for the 
food
‘You leave for me
each night,
‘Although that dish 
is dangerous,
‘It gives me such a
fright.

‘Can I do something
nice for you,
‘To show you how I
feel?
‘You’re good to me
and I’m nice back.
‘That is a friendly 
deal.’

One thought popped
straight into my
mind.
No need to search 
for more.
‘I’d take it as a friendly
sign
If you could move
next door.’   


BY
DARRYL ASHTON 
  


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2014


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The Ghost of Yellow-John Matthews

Yellow-John Matthews, he sailed upon the main
A pirate who would prey on them all.
Spanish of British, it was no matter
Before him they all were all bound to fall.

He stood six feet, of medium frame,
Was never seen without his tricorn.
He was crowned with hair, yellow as sun,
As were all the bastards to him born.

For six long years he filled his coffers,
A fortune for ten men plus two.
But he kept on sailing, for he loved the rush
Of combat and running men through.

They one day the crown sent out a ship,
A ship of the line, armed to the teeth.
It caught Yellow-John off old Havana,
And sent his ship down to the reefs.

The pirates they swam, and made it to shore,
And were captured there by the Spanish.
They strung them up high for all to see,
A punishment that the crime did fit.

But Yellow-John never made it to shore,
They all assumed that he drowned.
His death was the talk all the next week
In the taverns of Port Royal town.

Four hundred years later, off Somalia
New pirates sailed to seize ships.
A sudden uptick bought the navy quick,
To blast the damn pirates to bits!

The crisis reached its bloody peak
When a thousand-foot tanker was seized.
That the pirates would go for such a ship
The navy folk just could not believe.

The sent out the SEALs, scaling the sides,
Onto the big ship’s deck they stormed,
Shooting down pirates who dared to fight,
Destroying their foes, as in norm.

One SEAL reached the bridge and saw a man
Who clearly was not a Somali.
Wearing jeans, a shirt, and a tricorn hat,
He looked out of place as could be.

The SEAL raised his gun, and fired a shot,
The slug it went straight but nit none.
The blonde man vanished into the air,
Dispersed clean in the mid-day sun.

The SEAL he came out and said not a word,
For who in the world would believe it?
He scratched his yellow hair, and though back
To a tale his gramma told him when sick.

It had been told of an ancestor bold,
Who had lived his life as a buccaneer.
The SEAL supposed now he’d not got his fill,
And from the grave had rose to privateer…


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017


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Dementia

Rhythmical rocking out fourth storied window pane glimpses near faded play-dough corsages between sighs. The phone rings unanswered. Brushing her hair with whose hand is that must look for teeth soon, someone is coming may have to smile wistfully at boy afraid of birthday party clowns danced all night and into the courtyards of bloomers and buzzards armed to the teeth must be looked for the breeze lifting umbrella high hair mussed. Brushing with whose hand I held off the coast of wherever was warm like lasagne for breakfast with champions. Rhythmically rocking and brushing with whose hand grasping teeth, she asks, “Does my makeup look ok?”
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_


Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2011


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The Discovery of Design

Language flowing out the corridor
Hoofprints of history juxtaposed
The unsettled gashes of human experience
Returning again to unfold new contours

Armed to the teeth
Our story replete, posted
From ancient backdoors
Charging mystic dreaming banshees

What planes will we walk?
As extreme inches have been carved
The hustle to flow capital gravitates
Through the backs of skulls

Highways like particle accelerators
Feet to photons on asphalt glass
Barriers pounce at break neck speed
Charging the stolen past
And the fantasized future


Copyright © Justin Debrosse | Year Posted 2012


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Spiral

Into pitch
Never black
Way out 
Arms stretched 
Reach for 
Divinity

Otherwise
Reverse

Overly opaque bones
Underestimated terror
Trembling shrill tones
Waking the death-bearer
Armed to the teeth
Raging empty sheath
Damned


Copyright © Tim B | Year Posted 2011


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Such a cliche

I'll drink to that, three sheets in the wind, the Booze cruise                        Drinking like a fish, kicking the bucket a fine kettle of fish,                       
beyond the pale. A fish out of water. When it rains, it pours, on a dark             and stormy night, raining cats and dogs. A force to be reckoned with,                                    the perfect storm, so weather the storm and get your feet wet.                          Every dog has its day, fighting like cats and dogs.                                    
Look what the cat drug in, the hair of the dog that bit you,                         
Just pulling your leg. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,        
ignorance is bliss. No pain, no gain, a chip off the old block,                     
banging your head, against a brick wall.                                                          
A loose cannon, armed to the teeth, the kiss of death.                                                                                                     Biting the bullet, caught in the crossfire, losing your head,                                                                                      Can't hold a candle to, burning the candle at both ends,                                                                                                             at the crack of dawn, caught with his pants down, the naked truth,                    
a checkered past. Out of the frying pan into the fire.                                    Playing with fire, a burning question, that inflames me!                                   This is for the birds, two in the bush, killing two birds with one stone                                                                                       Fair weather friend’s, fly the coop and birds of a feather flock together                                                       Looking like the cat, that ate the canary, the bird's eye view.                                                                                                  Cat got your tongue, the big cheese is a better mousetrap                                      
Don't look a gift horse, in the mouth and the horse you rode in on          
Beating a dead horse, I got to see a man about a horse!                        
Living hand to mouth, biting the hand that feeds you,                                    
A knuckle sandwich, that’s a mouthful. He is full of himself


Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2018


Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The event

The weather, as per the norm in this country was hot. As if the sun itself had come down to partake in this spectacle about to take place. The landscape was arid,dusty and desolate of any greenery, had I not seen it before in its purity, the teeming masses now joining to expand the congregation would have disallowed such recollections. Human bodies were everywhere, black shiny skin glistening in sweat, their eyes blood shot but alert. Chanting war cries that epitomized their struggles against oppression. The general himself was at the helm of the mob. Dressed in his full regalia, he brandished a sword pointing it sky wards like a holy warrior, behind him, his men followed in religious fervor.  Dedication like this is dangerous.  My host for so many days and I walked at a leisurely pace , I soaking in the sights of this ritual, my host was almost a man resigned to some fate only he knew.  The mob was in its hundreds now. All armed to the teeth. Sporadic firing filled the air, bullets hummed by closely. I had come to learn by now that regardless of the direction of fire, a stray bullet meant for you was going to find you, no matter what evasive maneuvers you took. “this is an impressive turn out”. I said to the doctor. “Hmm” he said. For an educated man he was a one for few words.  In the cacophony of the noise our silence was awkward.  It put me at unease. 
“how often does this sort of gathering happen?’ I asked the doctor.
“at any given opportunity” he replied, “unfortunately these days they have been happening a lot”.
I thought about his reply for a moment, perhaps it was the regime’s way of bolstering morale. 
“It must mean a lot to the soldiers, these war parades” I asked. 
He turned to look at me, and once again it was in his eyes, Bright white with small jet black pupils. The kind of eyes that have seen too much.  His forehead wrinkled in a kind of stress. 
“alas sir, this is not a war parade’; he replied
“Then what is it”? 
“An execution”
“Oh? 
Public executions were not uncommon here, but it intrigued me as to whom the victims would be. 
“Who’s”? I asked
The doctor turned to me; I could not fathom the look in his eyes this time. This time they gave nothing away. 


“Yours”…


Copyright © Rizwan Saleem | Year Posted 2015


Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

TIME BOMB

The town-crier said it thirty-many years ago
About the pool of blood that swept my fathers time
Not excluding the famous town-crier of that era
People freely bought their ticket to heaven and hell
The goats refused to listen to the town-crier voice
Atlast the beautiful timebomb exploded
My town-crier died in the process
The moon is black again with evil
Frustrated hungry souls litter again
Many,more mouths hungry
They will gather at the jungle of jungles
Armed to the teeth,chest,face,legs and hands
My metal gong is crying to the ears that cares
Twenty-twenty the newworld said
Twenty-fifteen the gong master says
Mouths would feed on carcase
Conspicuous ribs,ostrich necks,mosquito legs,insane
pot bellies
The boys are oiling their metals in the jungle
The magicians are still drinking wine in the rocks
Hungry mouths dropped like grapes and mangoes
Moremi and Amina come with utmost speed
Deadly spirits art hunting for blood blood blood
The celestial fire is burning, the blood bank opens
Where is my blanket
Where is my metal gong
Where is  my slaughtered heart
The sky is red with blood
But will be washed away with flood someday
Deadly disease would ravage
Fine flesh of the land, my land, our land
Worst that the battle of cakes
Worst than the battle of the windmill
Worst than the battle of cowshed
Trigger target target would bid my 
Chummy chicks to the deep blue sea of silence
The battle of the jungle would be won but lost
Bloodiest blood bath  of our time my time


Copyright © ifediora okiche | Year Posted 2005


Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

PLEDGE OF A YOUTH CORPS MEMBER

I thought one day to play my part and I was sent

Now I’m in a strange land but not a stranger in the land

We’re gathered here, bearing one purpose in mind

And looking gaily, bright faces, fresh from home

I have been camped here for eighteen days now

I have been equipped and armed to the teeth

With great arms needed for this bloodless war

The nation may not observe what we do today

Our tasks is not to please any, but be just corpers

Dressed in khakis, crested vests and oversized boots

Marching to and fro, under sun’s scorch, like soldiers

Bridging the gaps between villages and government

Preaching the sermon of a better Nigeria to everyone

And just within the spheres of our influence to act

But ask just this one thing from our great nation

The support of our government as it seems right.

If the government too, shall lead by example

In the supreme campaign towards a better Nigeria

We hope to follow each step with all our hearts

And be faithful, loyal and honest

To make a reality, the essence of this scheme.

Though our footsteps make only a light impression on this soil

We shall do our best and wish the government does too

For each small step is a giant leap of growth

And we would fight as true patriots of our dear nation

To defend her unity, uphold her honour and glory

So help us God.


Copyright © Reuben Enahoro | Year Posted 2012


Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Flash Mob Application

I'd like to apply for a permit
for a protest march
on the Washington Mall.

Lovely idea.
But, we're only issuing Mall permits
for Song and Dance Events.

I think this might be a violation of my Rights
to Free Speech.

I see it more as a patriotic protection of your health care rights
for Free Song and Dance Improvement
instead.

So we can sing ballads
to Adolf Hitler
and Royal Elitist Head MucketyMucks
of the Only White Lives MightMatter Makes RightWing KKK,
we just can't say them.

That's right.
And you get extra points for at least four-part harmony
and full orchestration,
and professional choreography,
and community participation
regardless of age, gender, race, religion, etc.

Well, that feels a little prejudiced
and elitist.

How so?

What if you can't afford a choreographer,
much less an entire orchestra.

Then your budget narrative will note
your capacity to sing and dance is contingent
on receiving sufficient community volunteers
for your harmonic protest Event.

This Event
begins to resound
with echoes of a Happening.

Only if you are a TransMillennial.

No, I'm a RightWing reaction against anything Trans,
or Poly
or Multi.

Sorry, sir.
TransMillennials are those born prior to 2000
and who remain planning to die
in this current PostMillennial Event.
I'm merely saying
you appear to be older than 17,
which you would need to be
to apply to sponsor a Mall Song and Dance Event.

Well, is there an application fee?

No.
There is, however, a sliding-fee-scale permit fee,
should your application ever have a chance of being successful.
But I have to tell you,
these Washington Mall slots are very competitive,
especially if you want something more than an hour,
and not in the middle of the night.
Then your only real competition
are the other vampire and costume clubs
and the witches covens,
depending on the lunar cycle.
I mean,
you can forget about any FullMoon
or NewMoon
or Equinox
within the next decade.

Wow!
I was just trying to put together
a nice old fashioned good ol' boys
AltRight
armed to the teeth
militia march
while chanting a few really offensive fascist slogans.

Well, funny thing,
it was just that kind of protest march
that led all these churches
and synagogues
and Eastern temples
and even the StoryTellers group from the mosques
sponsoring these FlashMob Events.

When I was checking out the Mall
to see where to put the stage,
suddenly all these people I thought were tourists
and just pedestrians
and all the people in the cars and buses going by,
and the frisbee players,
and even some of the dogs,
all froze in place for a moment,
then began dancing,
then singing that annoying We Shall Overcome gospel anthem,
like I had just walked onto a movie set.
Although no lights and big cameras.

Yes.
Today's Event received extra points
for community participation.
The District of Columbia FlashMob Combined Gospel Choir
joined up with the local street dancers and choreographers,
and the drummers,
of various cultural backgrounds,
and usually books the Mall on weekends for full two day events.
Most of the time
they practice harmonies and choreography,
and encourage people gathering to watch
to join in,
whether they can stay until the final run through of the day,
or not,
when cameras are digitally ubiquitous.
In fact,
often cell phones are part of the dance,
for lights and multiple viewing perspectives on social media sites.

Then they do a final run through about four or five PM,
then everybody goes home
or maybe they'll have a picnic
if the band or orchestra or drummers
can stay into the evening.
They might even have an open stage night
for singers and dancers
and those Creation StoryTellers
from the mosques.

I'm having trouble seeing our RightWing message
in this Song and Dance frame.

There are less competitive venues
but most state capitols
are seeing this same cooperative community response
to these all day multicultural NonFlash Mobbing Events.
It's sort of like America's Got Talent
went RealTime coast to coast
in a capitol, or even a County Seat, near you.

Well, I need a permit for a counter-protest.

You will need to include your song and dance plan
and budget with your application,
and your plan has to be coordinated with any group already issued a permit
for the Mall
on the day
and time
you propose to counter.

Would that look like some kind of large-set talent contest?

It could.
But, when the District Multicultural Choir
and Drummers
and Street Performers
and Orchestra
respond to your challenge,
just know they usually turn out
somewhere up toward two million singers and dancers,
and it would be more
if we had the space and toilets.

Last year they accepted a challenge
from a national supremacist group ironically named
the RightWing Goliaths.
That was a big national media Song and Dance Event
in which the Goliaths moved and sounded...
well...
not very cooperative
seemed to be the national patriotic consensus,
while the District MultiCultural Singers and Dancers
were totally awesome!
In fact,
by the end of the Goliath's first song,
the MultiCulturals were adding in their four-part LaLaLa's
and OoohOoohOooh's,
then the African Drummers joined in
so the RightWing message was out-scaled
into an awkward hiccuping sound
very much in the background,
and I'm being generous.

Anyway, application forms are on-line.
You'll find our cooperative community inclusion guidelines,
budget requirements,
and forms you can use to invite community volunteers to join in.
Family friendly plans also receive extra points
so you might want to leave your firearms
and reckless drivers at home.

This still feels like a violation of my Right
to be a White Supremacist
or even just a somewhat paranoid Hater
and shout about my embarrassingly personal issues in public.

As long as you can sing and dance your message
you are welcome to apply for a Permit.
I'm merely letting you know
we have far more healthy and gifted and grace-filled applications
than space and time already.




Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017


Details | Armed To The Teeth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

No Matter You Be Divine Part Two

No Matter You Be Divine 
(Part Two)
By Roy Merritt

So at last the day finally came  
When he decided to end his grief
He rose up then and pushed out the door 
And armed to the teeth

Payback was ah comin’ to everybody
That was what was on his mind 
Payback was ah comin’ to everybody 
And he was feelin’ mighty fine

So come down off that cross sweet Jesus 
You’re wastin’ precious time
You’re stupid for bein’ there in the first place
No matter you be divine

So now he was out in the public a hunter without fail
A hunter of humanity some folks he could send to hell
And so he lit up everybody yes that’s just what he did
No matter man or woman or even a little kid

Yes sir he put them down blood it was everywhere
He got all ‘em within range no one did he spare
They were goin’ to learn their lesson for keepin’ him down
Gonna get that message before they were ever in the ground 

So come down off that cross sweet Jesus 
You’re wastin’ precious time
You’re stupid for bein’ there in the first place
No matter you be divine
 
So once more God got his jollies 
Watchin’ we dubious fools
And not the first damn one among us 
Knew that he was so bloody cruel    

And you should be certain by now 
Its always been this way
Everyday is but human suffering 
And it useless for you to pray
 
So come down off that cross sweet Jesus 
You’re wastin’ precious time
You’re stupid for bein’ there in the first place
No matter you be divine

So come down off that cross sweet Jesus 
You’re wastin’ precious time
You’re stupid for bein’ there in the first place
No matter you be divine
No matter you be divine

















Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016