Best Deploying Poems
Walking corridors of derailed delusions
I welcome my created confined confusions
For I am lost in phantom night...
I dance with demons deploying death
Desirous destruction of my life’s last breath
Consciously cocooned manic moonlight...
A bipolar bliss within tangled time
Waiting for a savior of an angels chime
For I am lost in phantom night...
Secluded silences in a whirlpool of winter
My starving soul soaked in a lachrymal linger
Tormented tears taking fatalistic flight...
Only God knows where I am
Devoured by lions this gentle lamb
Farewell to this nefarious night...
June.07.2017
God Knows Where I Am - Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Essence melancholic bemoans, echoing soul’s doleful cry
When clamors of unrequited love, earnestly amplify,
Bruised yearnings of deep desires, as lovelorn heart sighs,
For the longings of shattered passions, tearing her eyes.
Deep feelings of emptiness, no longer can she bear,
Burning with intensity, as wistful flames of rejection flare,
From the void of emotions, from sinful, loveless affair,
Bawling now in frustration, blaring anguish of despair.
Soul grieves for love elusive, she believed to be true,
The kind that blossoms hearts; and doting minds woo,
Alas! It was a tantalizing allure, irrevocably gone askew,
An illusion, alike gems, refracting from morning dew.
Soul rises from abandonment, escaping abyss of grief,
Deploying enlightenment, vying calm of ethereal relief,
As cohesion and congruity reconnect to angelic bliss,
Releasing negative feelings, rekindling love-vibes amiss.
Spirits reinvigorated emerge from dreaded goodbye
As soul’s insight redirects influence of love drifting awry,
Exiting barren desert, to find oasis on the other side,
Entrusting mystique of love, passions romantic confide.
A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
Godspeed!
¡Vaya con Dios!
05-16-2014
Contest: Relationships
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placement: 1st
why are our tax dollars being spent on crippled
and paralyzed drug hoods?
why are we supporting teenage girl having babies
and not trying to do any good?
how Is It possible for foreigners
to get supplemental security income?
and where Is all the money supposedly coming from?
yet, when we the American citizens
who have worked and struggled all our lives
attempt to get any assistance from the government
we only get a lot of bull and some jive
what in the world could the politicians
have been thinking about?
when we have families right here in America
having to do without
Is It political policy
over social responsibility?
the American Government aspires
to be the world's police force
by deploying our young men and women into war zones
without any recourse
but who Is to blame for making all these
life altering decisions?
It's not those who don't vote
for they have no voice nor position
now Is the time for all Americans
to step up to the plate
make your voice and choice be known
before It's too late
we need to stop this madness
and unnecessary spending
call the politicians on to the carpet
and bring about some ending
Is It political corruption
versus social reconstruction?
so just get out and vote
and make your choice be known
put who you want in positions of power
with ideals like your own
It's time to take a stance
and get back our power
be more socially and politically conscious
at the voting hour
Hey! What if a computer were a car?
So much more economical, by far!
You see at once advantages galore
With all that high-tech wizardry in store.
A virtual computer set on wheels.....
This surely is the very best of deals!
You rush to buy one of these "guided missiles",
Your automotive "Dell" with bells and whistles.
.................Fast forward now to one month down the road.
Your frenzied brain is ready to explode!
You found your car would crash three times a week!
You had to pay some sly computer geek
To get the blasted engine up and running.
(His service bills were nothing less than stunning.)
You learned that turning on the windshield wiper
Would mean you really had to "pay the piper"!
By sensing you clicked on that wiper part,
Your car would shut down and would not restart!
Your airbag system's totally annoying;
It asks you "Are your sure?" before deploying.
Your precious car insists, as it to scoff,
You must press "start" to turn the darn thing off!
Just when these gimmicks you begin to doubt,
Your car without a reason locks you out!
"Access denied!" until by luck you pressed
At once the grille and hood. (Who would have guessed?)
You feel betrayed by this hybrid computer?
You should have bought a plain old two-wheeled scooter!
Women of age
A woman of age popped in last night.
The garden had become wet, might
this gardener – willing yet weak – plane seeds
into where nothing grows, not even weeds.
For this aged garden, has become barren.
No amount of passion nor patient caren
will be able to make life sprout or grow.
This, the garden and gardener doth know,
that when sweet seeds – needs – are sown,
reality comes to light and all is known.
They will come to an end without fertilization.
This awareness, this knowledge, their realization,
that life’s true meaning has ended – procreation,
a dead issue, has become life’s - no perpetuation –
meaning for these tired, aged, lost souls
who’s time has stilled, it no longer flows
from this garden, yet this gardener doth strain
for what will remain - their immortality, never again
from them to create a new – life’s force to remain.
No longer will they provide new souls for this plane.
From these two, never a story to be told
for they travel down a different road.
Each, on a separate journey, to end
their days, do they, still call each, friend ?
There are so many ideas, points of view, thought
about life’s meaning, so what is it ?, that is taught
by the lessons we have learn ?, the wars fought,
that have brought us closer, yet maybe not
to the understanding of mankind’s existence,
the meaning of humanity ?, or its relevance
to the world we live on, continue destroying.
We are but a disease ?, a virus ?, reaching out, deploying.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 26th 2006
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered
(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life
transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson
forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister crabs)
inflicted courtesy yours truly
said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf
existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout
(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina
betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),
thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own
metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
Don't take this personally
But you're really a mess
Your hair is way awful
And what horrible choice of dress
And I saw Sara Bess
Beat you at chess
Don't take this personally
But you're really a mess
No offense, buddy
But you're really annoying
Always complaining 'bout
Your workplace deploying
And never enjoying
Or simply employing
No offense, buddy
But you're really annoying
I don't mean this in the sense that you think
But don't you think you've stepped on the brink?
First you tripped at the roller rink
Then you ruined our great lip sync
You then wanted to go and get a mink
But it was pink
And after a while it started to stink
But after that you got hoodwinked
By that that weird ole' crazy wild skink
And now I've started to rethink
I don't mean this in the sense you think
But don't you think you've stepped on the brink?
Some things change and some things won’t.
Some people care and others just don’t.
The situation I’m in unmistakably changed,
for one I was close to has now been estranged.
I was told when younger to think on my own,
but now it's not something the teachers condone.
One thing that during my time I have found,
is that circular logic, it goes round and round.
So as long as my feet are firm on the ground,
I’m in need of nothing that is so unsound.
With all that I’ve learned, I head off all alone,
leaving all censorship behind me at home.
Started out slow, not a care in the world.
But as I move on and through time I am hurled,
tempo goes up, beats per minute increase.
Soon I can’t take it, I need it to cease.
Not able to stop, no not in the least,
I trudge on like a machine, well oiled and greased.
My actions like a snake, they slowly unwind,
and start on a hunt pursuing my mind.
The snake goes about deploying the bait,
then, patient the predator, lies in wait.
About temptation, one should not linger,
but I’ve taken the bait, hook line and sinker.
Wasting no time, the snake lashes out,
the forked tongue and fangs on a heart bound route.
I listen to the venom course through my veins,
as it makes it’s way on up to my brain.
Once it arrives and inherits its reign,
is when I’ll be left with nothing but pain.
I don't feel the way I’ve ever felt,
inside, my head stings just like a welt.
Abrasion against the strings of my heart,
strums out a tune that's miles from art.
I’ve gone and done something oh so wrong,
for I’m unable to sing, or hum along.
Now in the calm that’s the eye of the storm,
I must find out how to return to the norm.
Opening doors devoid of locks,
I stumble upon a strange looking box.
On top of this thing that I’ve found amongst rocks,
is a line that reads “Opportunity Knocks.”
Now standing before this jack-in-the-box
I turn the crank like a hand on our clocks,
The childhood jingle comes to stop,
as something symbolic shoots out with a pop.
Though am I clueless? No, not so much,
I’m not handicapped, I don't need a crutch.
Ill fated though, it’s a no-leaf clover.
I know what this means: I’ve got to start over.
Glioblastoma
Glioblastoma - death in disguise
Makes its appearance before we realize
A stealth adversary lurking in the brain
Metastasizes without restrain
A complex enemy
Untrustworthy
Of unknown origin
Emerging from deep within
Deploying its vascular tentacles
Stealing nutrients from the body’s receptacles
Baffling is its behavior
In search of a savior
Chemo radiotherapy with no other choice
Unable to silence its voice
Surgery perhaps
With high risk of relapse
Immunotherapy – the current hope
But still a downward slope
We shall move on
Until it is gone
Got stuck on another plateau, very annoying
But finally broke through, perseverance deploying
Intestinal fortitude
Positive attitude
Losing weight is a challenge but one I'm enjoying
Graded ten out of ten in this crusade,
A progressing cascade that doesn’t fade,
Self-made, self-aware word engineer,
Deploying cutting edge concepts into the atmosphere,
Projected from the celestial sphere,
Today I appear, The first of May on this calendar year,
Shifting up a gear throwing nuclear bombs,
Destroying you all and taking gold, silver and bronze,
My mind is stronger than ya strong’s concordance,
Undeniably notorious and the wisest in this enterprise,
An allied movement,
Got the Oracle on my side bringing allegorical development,
Always in it to win, prudent as I’m in this,
A student with higher consciousness, bringing these hypothesis,
Scary like Newton’s theories with force of metamorphosis,
Effortless with divine providence because of self-confidence,
Believing spirits of Old Wise Men are my influences,
Or are they from Demons?
This is my dilemma, beaming from hell or heaven?
Streaming to my brains antenna,
An evil agenda or from a source higher? and put into this cypher,
Peace to the past generals as I desire what’s wiser,
This is in my will for after I’m gone and transformed,
Striking insight in written form, the advisor for all,
These thoughts I have called out for could maul you,
My views, with superior dialect matched with out-of-this world intellect,
Collected, dissected and selected,
Organized rhymes I’ve requested,
Like the writings of Genesis with emphasis,
Comprehended correctly will bring great benefits,
Deadly when read with no intelligence,
Venomous alphabet recipes I’m pioneering,
Bearing surreal appeal with these writings I conceal,
Because the majority of people are sealed within their socialist ideals,
So wake up to your own minds and see what’s being revealed.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 1.5.2016
PART I.
I.
each night...
I think about the moment when we'll vanish
on the doormat of an empty house
because I know some day they will come -
the malignant conquistadors and their moon colored hounds
when this century of the sleepless will come to an end
so I'm trying to unravel the missing monologues
while indulging in many contradictions
stranded on remote beaches
seeking the redemption with sand in my hair
like a famished cormorant rambling the landfill
in a very weird mental state
II.
it's becoming clear...
that time has shunned this godforsaken place
and as I'm following the familiar landmarks
following the strange candlelit pathways
I know that your bedroom is in a saltwater heaven
far away from the angry masses
becalming myself in my transient refuge
while you're deploying your crying talent
we went loose from our moorings and you refused the safety buoy
now tide of our sensations is coming up fast
turning us into these crumpled wrecks
left to rust at the shallow bay
III.
these sleeping islands...
are just relics of my hopes, diaries of fading sunlight
after we carved our scriptures on the dormant rocks
creating museums of our own memories
at the very edge of despair
and I think that we'll never be missed
you, me and my companion of delusions
but remember dear, there are no boundaries
be sure that I'd row my soul over the vast seas
to see you standing on the abandoned shoreline
and our handprints will fossilize in the interim
imprinting the fatal visions to rocky soil
You crawl beneath my timid heart
Deploying feeble desires
I speak with vivacious eloquence
But, I have not changed my reasoning
Or, lack there of
I dive, head-strongly, into the same folly
Dreaming dreams I've halfheartedly dreamed before
With vehemence as my blind witness:
I stab at the sands, to search for sentiment
[The sentiment I had unnervingly hurled into the sea]
There is nothing to gain from this redundant Intention
Crestfallen, it follows me, with all of my lost chances
And, I have Run...out of places to peddle my Love
Or, lack there of...
The tiger in our homeland
Renown for brutal patting on the back
And deploying and rewarding moles in society
Pampered himself for prevailing equanimity and;
Putting to the end negative forces
Every uprising he lit fire in bosoms.
Destruction was his favorite amusement sport
In a twist of events which only time could tell
No word is sufficient to describe his hellish end
The tiger wept and gnashed his teeth
Horizon descended to kiss him farewell
Every friend and foe became open desert trap
Dusk greeted him with plastic smile and iron fist
Every living thing withdrew honor, respect and security
Street dogs, tarmac and dust scrambled to taste his blood
Each ghost he created while in power shouted in silence
Reminding him of the brutal pats on the back of friends and foes
Trapped in the desert was payment in own coins