Best Opportunists Poems


Homeless Love Story



    You and me against the World.
Living on a prayer, for real.
I will protect you girl, from the cold, 
as it ravages the breath and sends them inside.
I will protect you from hunger, 
"those are your favorite, I am not very hungry anyway".
I will pretend to slip occasionally, 
to make you gasp, as we walk along 
to nowhere and everywhere

Nomads of society that they cannot see so clear.
I will protect you from the savages 
and the opportunists.
I will protect you from the ghouls and hopelessness 
that sneak overhead, black clouds like vultures, 
death eaters with no preference or conscience.
I will find us a way to get back up, 
where you can relax and know a better day.
She says, "you are my everything", and he knows, she means it.
Love is not homeless, it found one- sheltering from the storm.
Categories: opportunists, art,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member I Am That I Am Not

Art rejoices through my special handy exhibition
but a parent’s call for a prestigious profession makes me freeze.
I’m simple with a mind so soft and a hand so helpful
siblings dive into the pool with liberty to put my charity to a tease.

My happiness, my pride, my life and my child,
out of wed luck, she exists but religion demands I call her niece.
The path to greatness and narrow road to this high placement has been solo
but now a baptized celebrity to manage so many friends like bees.

Enjoying what I had sweat for with the liberty to be cheerful or not,
refusing the society’s wish to give half of that, tags me with a moral disease.
Not conforming to the luxurious flaunting of the class of my colleagues
condemns me to a foul-smelling stain in the brotherhood like feces.

A constantly smiling boss, so gentle and understanding
uncharacteristic freedom, my subordinates disrespectfully request a lease.
Living up to the standard of the public, I always try to please,
it’s so tiring and fatal with the media in possession of my keys.

Negotiating a diversion to the demands of the environment
subjects me into a suitable slave for the satisfaction of others.
I extract my mind, limbs and heart in philanthropic donation
what then would be left is worn out remnants of slaughtered geese.
Selfishness is a good control mechanism in a crude world of opportunists
I’ll use that to protect my happiness, loyalties and peace.
Categories: opportunists, anxiety, character, community, education,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Premium Member For Survival Or Greed? (Co-Written With James Fraser)

Note:  Following a rash of local breakins, thieves murdered two people who happened to be 
at home when they entered.  This event produced a lot of anxiety for me and James was 
kind enough to help divert my attention by joining in this write.  Many thanks to James, Tim 
and Dane Ann for their support during this difficult time. -- Carolyn




     A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
     Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
     Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
     By striking fast they earn the right to live another day 
 
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see, through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life nought
 
     Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
     From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
     Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
     Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles 
 
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare 
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
 
     Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
     They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
     But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
     Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
 
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
 
     If man continues to develop harsh weapons
     The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
     Consuming not just one animal species, but all
     Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations
Categories: opportunists, life, socialanimal, dark, animal,
Form: Quatrain

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Pause For a Replay

1. A satellite on me is so superfluous
b’cos even without it, you’ll see my flaws
my new adulthood on your eyes is a sty
as my every late night makes you pray and cry
anytime my rebellion faces your bash
my dearly connection with you seems to crash
please dad, don’t feel like my missing baluster
because of the flaunted young and new mister
every man I meet, a potential eyrie
falling for opportunists, yet not sorry.

Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.

2. Your restrictions make my inexperience belch
exploits from friends and media I want to fetch
my lovely journey, you want to ride and steer
my resistance means not, you are not a dear
this close adventure is said to be squishy
stay clear but tell me of anything fishy
I’m in that phase where my confidence straggles
stay with me dad but allow me to struggle
so let me out of your strong moral’s billet
or else I will turn out to be the bullet.

Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.

3. Boys, boys, boys, all that matter for me to quake
scary and deep but clear and warm is this lake
in the harsh weather, I have a moving fan
so that on previous happiness, please unban
you were once in this youthfulness currency
why the hypocrisy in expectancy?
I am passing through life to stay as Age’s toy
so please stop your investigative envoy
every bad mistake, your senses document
but to my heartbreaks, please be there to unguent.

Bridge
Big pa is coming, coming, coming in red
Oh lord I’m running, running, running in black
[Repeat bridge]

Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.

Published on the 5th of March. 2017
Categories: opportunists, daughter, father daughter, life,
Form: Lyric

When Privacy Died

there was a time
i remember it well
when one could go away for a 
while &
not be noticed.

there was a time
i remember it well
when one could turn off everything &
not be contacted,
not be sought after,
not be checked up on,
not be held to a response,
not be interrupted &
not be harmed.

there was a time
when two lovers could
pack themselves away,
far from prying eyes,
far from curious conspirators,
far from the rest of the 
vultures
who prey upon fleeting bits of
happiness, like they hadn’t had a
bite of carcass to eat in
days.

there was a time
when the youth of the world,
didn’t voluntarily offer up all the details of
their lives
to those very same agencies of government
who will come to their house &
tear them from their families,
who will lock them up & throw away the
key,
who will keep them incarcerated for the better part
of their known existence,
just because zuckerberg, dorsey & the rest of the
opportunists,
said so.

but when privacy died
everything changed,
lighting the fuse for the slavery to come.

lighting the fuse for the slavery to come.

lighting
the
fuse
for
the
slavery
to
come.
Categories: opportunists, life, slavery,
Form: Free verse

Road To Damascus

ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Granite faith exfoliated by superguns and sanctions whirls,
on this earth succumbing into dry spell of peace,
War-crats and confidantes skinning freedom from its people
Kofi drinking coffee with revolutionaries and revolutionaries in 
Aleppo cafe on his way to Damascus

Daughters eating NGOs, GMOs, condoms and twitter
Bullet scorching the feet of super diplomats and mediators
Wiki leaks castrating the reputation of this state

Opportunists and oppositionists eating asparagus and liver in candle light dinners
Selfish pseudo prophets calculating political matrixes, salmonella laced sugar tongued 
Democrats cooking autocratic beetroot and propaganda pizza for media rituals and puppets initiation.

 ____________________________________________________________
Categories: opportunists, africa, age, allegory, betrayal,
Form: Epitaph


My Beloved Sulu Sea

I love the sea,
the sea of my ancestors
the guardians are everyone
not alone the sea gypsies 
with the warriors they protect
they are amphibians
who will fight.

I am sick of the opportunists
loving my sea is not about race
it is about my pride and heritage
no one else will gonna love as I do
except those are truthfully true
from the blood of martyrs
they were born to set you free.

To you, my beloved Sulu Sea!

I love you, peace. Let's sail together. Layag Sug!
© Neldy Jolo  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: opportunists, adventure, care, emotions, environment,
Form: Ballad

The Most Famous Man Who Ever Lived

“the most famous man who ever lived”

hollow is the story of “jesus”---
hollow 
like the stamp with which it was printed,
hollow as these other mythical hero 
archetypes,
which all bear a supernatural birth,
which all bear the hunting of said hero
as an infant, with an exciting & dramatic
subsequent getaway,
which all bear the entertaining magic tricks during 
the hero’s youth,
which all bear the blind adoration, devotion &
worship that follows
when he is seen as “divine,”
only to be betrayed, executed & 
for that big fat finale…
RESURRECTION!
(which all christians want to happen for them as well,
be it secretly or not)

and then, of course, 
our hollowman gets
made into a martyr 
for which history is supposed to 
weep & remember,
weep & remember,
weep & remember.

to say that “jesus” was a man,
to say that he lived at all, that his life was in any way
original or authentic,
is to say the same of Osiris, Hercules, Baal, Attis, Adonis 
& Asclepius (to name a few)
were all real people…
all who mr. “jesus” bears just a little more than
coincidental 
liking to.  

still, over 40% of americans 
believe that “he” is going to return within the next 40
years---
this of course has nothing at all to do with 
the relative age of those asked &
what their lil’ dreams are of getting to be on the
planet when “he” does, right?

(throat clearing)

having created a character of fiction,
one which can be mentioned to be
“the most famous man who ever lived,”
seems a bit gratuitous, doesn’t it?
but then again, those who believe it 
are the same who believe that there is a 
place that they can go
when they are dead &
they will get all the gold stars that they’ve been
earning
all the years that they have been alive---
opportunists,
opportunists,
opportunists,
who will create a “history” in order to 
provide themselves an
out---
all so they can sleep at night.
Categories: opportunists, life, , cute,
Form: Free verse

Dickensian Time

In Dickensian time 
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain

At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea

At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful to ensnare
Any hapless stranger 
come wandering there

Covent Garden
still well lit
As lamplighters
carry out their remit
Striding with ladders
about old London town
With a cheery wave
and a purposeful frown

Patrolling policemen
in forbidding places
Echoing footfalls
as boots make paces

A courting couple shelters
under the arches
Oblivious to passerby's
and dray cart horses

A hackney driver cracks his whip
As high stepping hooves
on cobbles clip

From Westminster
stove pipe hatted M.P.s from
parliament sitting
enter a members club
to continue their
political discourses
unremitting

Mudlark urchins ankle deep
in moonshine glow
watch chugging steam boats
along the Thames flow 

Billingsgate Market's
straw boated and 
stripe aproned men
are found sluicing
with brooms in hand
the blood drenched ground

Along the West End thoroughfares
Come wealthy patrons
in open carriages with lantern flares
wearing evening attire
Bejewelled ladies in fanciful frocks
And around bare shoulders
Stoles of mink and silver fox
They ascend the red carpeted stairs
And look towards the royal box

A pretty young street seller
of violets and roses
with straw basket on hip
proffers up the scented poses

A peasouper fog blankets from
Thames to chimney tops
As a trader hooks his shutters down
Outside his haberdashery shop

Across London Bridge the East End rabble
Trail homeward to Hackney, Bethnal Green
and Whitechapel

From an open pub door
streams a music hall tune
played on an accordion
in a crowded tap room

Wending amongst the walkers
in the Strand
run beggarly children
with outstretched hand.

And......
Charles Dickens
walks the streets
at night
taking note 
of every sight.
Categories: opportunists, places,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Boy In Blue

Mary had her little lamb
I had my Boy in Blue
His courage and valor
Always stayed to be true
Haters will hate and destroy
One followed him one day
A gun cocked and loaded
And took my Boy in Blue away
No rhyme no reason 
No justification for crime
The killer was a Hater 
So goes the storyline
I looked to the Heavens
Asked God why me?
Haters are opportunists
Self glory is their key
Life to them is nothing
A knotch upon their belt
Hate blinds all reason
Remorse not even felt
And what of my life now
Goodbye my Boy in Blue
May you rest and be comforted
Angels arms around you
As for the Hater he is dead 
An arsenal lay at his side
No mercy for the angry 
Return fire was opened wide
Life for life 
No rhyme no reason
Good versus evil
Tis the season
We all will suffer
There is no escape
Love conquers all
Even in a world of hate.
Categories: opportunists, sympathy, boy,
Form: Ballad

Donation Or Corruption

Donation or Corruption

Hahaha....
In mainland China, corruption is a capital crime....
Public and municipal officers have been executed for being less than clean...
In Bolehland, Land of Infinite Possibilities, Cash is King, ...
Even being caught with the hands in the cookie jar is not stealing.. ......
MO1 was found with 2.6b in his bank accounts, what a steal...
By claiming it was donation, he got off the hook like a slippery eel......
The world's biggest kleptocrat has perfected corruption to a fine art... 
None can hope to outdo what he had achieved with such finesse in his art....
He loots the country's coffers with his merry gang of thieves...
Then lavishly giving out cash monies to buy widespread loyalties....

Political bigwigs, now much tainted and blinded by ill gotten riches...
No longer care how fare their electorates and supporters on the ground...
Gone were their fiery zest to better the country's image and  economy ....
Puff! Into the thin air goes their credibility, accountability and trustworthiness...
All's that left in places are weak willed politicians serving only their own self interests...
And two timing political opportunists looking out to loot and plunder....
While propping up their much tainted leader as their benevolent benefactor....

Boo hoo hoo... what hopes are there for Bolehland......
Categories: opportunists, anxiety, community, corruption, identity,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Popular Dress Turn Dirty

A mast of goodness seen by the entire neighborhood,
even if the whole body stays beneath the waters;
producing rare sweet wine loved by all
as attitude calmly speaks giving more command to words.
Then possesses a temperament
which unleashes comets of mind softeners.
Just one being with similar make up to everyone else
yet covers a large district
with an umbrella of relationship and a shadow of good deeds.

Wildness and adventures begin to attract
and the temptation alone already tasting creamy and sweet.
Guard is let down to accept a rare stain
forgetting that such reputation commands great attention
and nothing can be hidden no matter how abstract its execution.

The juice turns bitter and fruit becomes rocky
that inner-radiating moon with an orbit of innocence
goes blank and dumped in a muddy lake.
The full mane covering an outstanding charisma
then faces the razor of shame to leave an open head to disgrace.

On such a new morality,
flies perch while its moisture stinks;
strong Irons then rust, surrounded by a general decay.
Redemption folds its arms to do nothing
while condemnation’s slaps are continuously in the increase.

Idiots sit and drink beer on this issue
scoffers and undisciplined minds become volunteer witnesses
then a great personality is dragged down by the rope of opportunists
to reversibly equate themselves to be unfit mates
while causing a fuss
through the noisy welcome from the corrupt class.

This is an indication of society’s affection towards wrong.
A proof that the effect of one bad intimidates that of good in millions
giving an exaggerated caption and devastating headline,
putting one in between suicide and strong will
but when calm is exhibited in crisis and strength in weakness;
humility and acceptance poured out to show imperfection is in all,
the forum is then set to bring out that radiance once again.

In a settlement far from barbaric ideologies
and an analogue system of thinking and beliefs,
climbing all the way up to once again possess that status
is achievable and possible because
dresses can’t be condemned by stains especially when washed.
Categories: opportunists, character, corruption,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Climbing Mountains

Climbing Mountains


Sitting atop on the mountain; I'm leaning
against a crevice of a rock
I'm viewing the stars and the clouds
They have not waged mere wages of war
All the natural brooks are streaming  into formation.
 
As the mountains are spewing many endless stones
Of fiery glimpses into the mountainous river
For unto this mesmerizing and panoramic view
There are plentiful darkened crevices along each side.

There may be no shelter to hide you when the
Rain begins to flow; swaying all leaf's to which it may hide,
Under an opportunists belief so many fearless mountaineers
Are making a strenuous leap into the highest mountain peak.

As the final ending is in full view of our mountainous climbing
Fears are not for his natural habitat for we dearly love an evening score.

Written: 3/22/14
Categories: opportunists, appreciation, beauty, nature,
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member A Fictitious Queen of Nowhere In Particular

From the word 'born', she was made to be a queen.
From the weight numbers 7.7 lbs., she was born to be queen.
She was daddy's girl and mother's pearl, a gift to the world.
Not all queens are strong, but this future queen was born strong.

Although some thought her to be mean, she wanted to be fair to all.
If in this queen's presence, someone acted or spoke unapproving, she
simply stared you down until you wished yourself to be invisible.  This
stern queen believed in and practiced 'exceptionalism' like none I had
ever witnessed, and tokenism had no place in her presence.

She pursued 'education for all', and 'full employment' was her goal.
She believed in hard work and earning, not whining, one's way to success.
Queen Grace gave her best and from everyone else, she expected no less.

Queen Grace ruled with an iron fist, commanding respect from everybody.
She desired that long after her demise, her people would enjoy the fruits of both her labors and those of others in her kingdom. Future generations would be proud. She had inherited a solid foundation from her parents and was determined to make it even better.

There have been and always will be those who will fix things only temporarily.
Many are opportunists and do just enough to win the popularity contest or the next election. Not so with Queen Grace, who seemed to have had things figured out the day she was born. She refused to build a kingdom on hay, stubble, and wood. On the contrary, Queen Grace labored to leave a legacy built of pure gold and silver. "She wrought her people lasting good".

"She wrought her people lasting good", Alfred Lord Tennyson
081322PSCtest, Difficult Poetry Contest, Julia Ward
Categories: opportunists, leadership,
Form: Narrative

Opportunists

Some opportunists 
Can tell you 
That Africa is
 A jungle. 
Just because they don't want 
Some people to visit 
Africa. 
Just because they want some
 People to look down 
Africa. 
Just because they want to get 
Some money through those contents. 
If you visit one of the  African towns like 
Capetown, 
You can be astonished  
To see some places
Which are very beautiful 
and clean 
Than 
Some erears 
Of the most
 Popular world
 City called, 
" New York. " 
I always 
Say to world friends, 
To visit African cities 
And villages, 
To  learn more about Africa
And Africans. 
Some Africans relocate to USA 
Just because of the men made 
unjust Systems
Which keep paralyzing 
The developement of Africans. 
Imagine , 
The most rich continent
 In natural resources 
Which could have strongest
 Economy than the other continents. 

May 16/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
 Mussabwa Chris
Categories: opportunists, 12th grade, africa, america,
Form: Free verse
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