Best Routing Poems
THE STAG
It's a creature of vapors mist, existing within a thin veil
Of nothingness, descending from the unknown pastures
Called Nirvana.
A mystical spirit lingering in the sacred meadows of native,
Legends and folklore, a beast of good omens, proclaiming
Peace and tribal bliss.
It's very breath brings forth life itself, in nature's
Spiritual realm, where ever it's hoof's land, the evergreen
Thicket wild, sprouts renewals promise.
Routing it's horns, to a fine points sharpened edge,
The stag shakes the mystical forest free from the chill
Of winter's deadly embrace, and thus welcomes spring
At last.
No such a delicate of Doe appears, than she his mate,
Softest of the brown eyed kindred, gently she approaches
His grand majesty, ever so tenderly and loving.
With sheer grace of step the two merge as one,
Uniting beneath the lunar moon of twilight.
Behold the white light of brilliance's fire, blazing
As a thunder's storm of the eternal, these are creatures
Of God's everlasting flame, burning on the hearth
Of seasonal change.
Hushed is the woodland, as if frozen in a soft pause,
Ascendence illusionary beings transcend the ages,
Flashing in the shimmering glow from the stars
Of heaven itself.
Melting phantom's of illusions, drift amongst
The night sky, leaving their earthy bondage,
Released once more to feast, in the glens of paradise,
Grazing in the meadows most high.
In the wilderness wild life is renewed,
And the goddess of spring praises them, for their
Sacrifice.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
...He reformed the routing patriots,
formed a line atop a rise, Perrine’s Hill,
brought in General Knox and the artillery,
commanding the mass through sheer force of will.
He needed to buy time for the main force
to march on and join up in the battle,
the British kept coming, soon to attack,
convinced they still had the patriots rattled.
Before in battle the Redcoats just had
to flash their bayonets in the bright sun,
that was enough to scare Continentals
and assure them the battle was won.
But they were no longer facing such men,
the Americans had learned Europe’s game,
they did not flee at the sight of steel,
gave hard volleys once the foe was in range.
Britain’s field commander, General Cornwallis,
made several attacks to break up the line,
only to run into fire and rage,
with his Redcoats turned back every time.
They he tried to turn Washington’s left flank,
the boldest maneuver of the fight yet,
but the main force had come, and pushed forwards,
striking hard under young Lafayette.
Seeing there would be no quick victory
the British withdrew there forces back,
both armies in defensive positions,
the fight would become a long slugging match.
Soldiers hunkered down as across the fields
artillery thundered and cut loose,
both sides trying to break up the other,
their foe’s ranks they sought hard to reduce.
The heat was such that many of the men,
suffered and even died from heat stroke!
One man passed out and his wife manned his gun,
fighting on alongside all the blokes.
Then Washington sent Nathaniel Green
with artillery up towards Comb’s Hill,
a high position on the British left,
from which the guns could enfilade and kill.
The British saw their hopeless position,
and quickly began an ordered retreat,
marching north towards Clinton’s main force,
having blown their opportunity.
Washington saw his enemy leaving,
and sent Mad Anthony Wayne forward,
to harangue the British as they marched off,
cutting down men despite their good order.
And through the battle ended as a draw,
for the nation it was victory,
they’d kept the field in an open battle,
and matched the Redcoats in soldiery.
This changed the calculus of the whole war,
all knew battles would be more costly now,
England would no longer campaign in the north,
hoping for easier prey down south…
The Hacker
Vodka
Used Dells and HP notebooks
Routers and switches
Gateways and sniffers
Kvm boxes and multi real-time data shows
My booty is plenty
No one knows the white mask of mist
They only know some monies are amiss
Bots and trojans and loggers too
Tools of the trade
As the cash is readily piled and made
2 million bit coins
400 million Yuan
786 billion rubles, there goes Putin’s new dawn
From Monaco to Luxembourg to Timbuktu
I have all the cash
Stolen from even mighty criminals too
Now I partake in my biggest heist
The crown jewels you can all keep and gaze
My prize is of more value, I shall hack all the days
I trace ip’s, and wires and protocols
Searching for patterns and rhythms and single heart beats
I shall not ever accept any defeat
I sit in my chair, monitors a plenty
Scanning and routing, probing and poking
Kilobytes and packets of data my way
Slowly, I shall hack into the device I wish to sway
Bingo, I got it, I think I am in
Pacemaker number 24-25-poet-of-things
I now control the beat of her heart
As I reprogram her love from here to the start
Pumping away, verses that sway
I shall now control her hearts desires of spring love in May
Captured her heart
Now I hold it in prisons enclave
To ancient romances and poetic rhymes
I know I am guilty of loves worst crime
However now I know her heart is all mine
I shall make it beat for eternity
So that the kiss I shall give on her sweet lips
Will be smiles held forever and a day
I hacked her heart
And I like it this way!
Dipping into the sea of chores;
Choice if ask, I will relay,
‘Can’t conceive me, taking on turns:
Tussle, fumble; stumble.’
Walking, talking, working the world’s
Routing as far as West;
Bagging routines through days and nights
Should lessons learnt, I rise…
…Beyond the Spartan's head frame mass
And awkward temperate;
To leave nations to last my tomb:
Legacies of my birth.
Jobs I never put forward for,
I don’t look forward to.
My safety is life's struggles
I diva, not differ.
30/11/2014
For Sara Kendrick's Jobs Contest.
Out in the sea, sailing on a stormy night
With the wind sweeping in fury all around
The racing clouds veiling the moon from sight
Leaving the land for Darkness to surround
The soft sibilance of waves
Growing into a tumultuous roar
The rising tides touching heaven’s seams
And the foamy surf breaking in wild uproar
No beacon to brighten up the gloom
Nor a brave soul around to seek for aid
Face to face with imminent doom
He struggled to wrench through dreads’ ugly hold
On a Benign force, his faith strongly lain
With hope newly springing in his manly chest
Braving the tides and routing the pain
He pushed the oars and paddled to the coast.
July 26, 2022
~ Placed Third~
Sailing Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Tor, the free software enabling anonymous communication,
if you want to hide from network surveillance, traffic analysis, or identity verification. Instant messaging, online forums, or the darkest deepest post,
personal privacy and freedoms ambiguity are obscured by anonymous host.
Technical and legal questions surrounds Internet anonymity,
encryption, hidden services, international crime fighting abilities.
The history of onion routing and the ability to anonymize,
dates back to mathematicians and computer scientists’ theorizing.
Criminal enterprises, law enforcement, and hacktivism groups,
are involved in the primordial anonymous soup.
But being invisible on Tor is not guaranteed,
something journalist, human rights workers, and whistle blowers need.
If you remember SilkRoad then you know the police is dominant,
they monitor bank fraud, money laundering and illegal sexual content.
Tor aims to conceal the identity for the ordinary person,
but of course it has been used for violent cohersions.
repugnant racist republican reviled - rickettsia re:itch ruler.
rapaciously ravaged revered reverential rubric.
radical ruthless renegade rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts.
refrains retaining remnant redolent regal, resplendent rafters.
riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights.
ruckus ricochets revenant reign.
ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
rumbustious rapscallions rollick; render ruinous ramifications.
rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal.
rabid rectal rictus rotten rebrands re-calibrate.
rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice.
ruffians ride roughshod routing reigning royalty.
reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality.
ride Rolls Royce relentlessly rendering rock ribbing.
riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response.
revisit rancorous restrictive redlined realigned rightward rivets.
robocop ridiculously rubber-stamped reorganization.
recalcitrant reactors release rapture.
rash Russian roulette reconnaissance raconteurs rack rubles.
red room reflects republican RNA.
rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory.
rapier robed robbers ransack reliquary resounding retaliation.
retaliatory redcoat regnum reformation remembered.
Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement
raison d'être rosily revered rifled relics raffled.
rookie raves ripe rackful rubenesque reliably ranked.
refulgent rotundity requisite requirement re: reappointment.
road-tested, roadworthy redeem reapportion routed role.
reprehensible reassignment rapidly recognizes response.
rife rampage removes respectability - respect.
responsible roused restitution refuted.
risky resultant reconnoitering runaway railroad reverberates rivalry.
reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization.
reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation
rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.
requisition requires resilient reseeding republic.
regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing.
rare recount restoring recondite renown reprobate Rapunzel.
Republican representatives rejoice reclaiming reins
registering retarded romantic remains
re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!
a diamante
water
aquatic, liquid
bridging, damming, subduing
oceans, pools, / yards, continents
digging, tunneling, conquering
solid, terrestrial
earth
Once there was an academic entrepreneur called Husain
framed a motto for his institution titled “Routing the sane”
“Live Love Learn” no good
“Love Learn Live” too good
Bloody Husain my motto in life “Love Laugh Live” sane?
Here I let go a wish again
Here I lose one more bargain
Was ready to start early at the dawn
Would have accepted a game drawn
Was instead handed a routing defeat
Call it a harakiri or a rival's feat
Never aimed as high as sky
Anyway didn't have wings to fly
Never aspired to be the brightest swan
Ended up being a favorite pawn
Time still has been good to me
Always had a few moments free
Life of me, didn't demand too much
I too have been abstinent just as much
Jan 24, 2016
For the poetry contest 'Self Inflicted'
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
The conception of computer science leads us to believe,
That the possible digital world inside we should leave;
When augmented with medicine and live, artificial arms,
The human-robot may raise many loud alarms.
A world of vast computer space with such dangerous functions,
Ackermann would quake at such duplication gumption;
To be able to copy yourself, to many times self-indulge,
Makes others avoid your egotistical, delusional bulge.
One tablet: Red or Blue? New life or your mundane existence?
But the journey only validates relationships normal with persistence;
Technology is carved by your own mind which has a kind superior,
Who knows your limits, understandings and warm interior.
Spatial transportation must be used for good and love,
The digital space does not give integrity the shove;
It’s our invention and must be bound by righteous laws,
To forbid its abuses and imprison peodophile flaws.
Muscles flex for good, healthy, and liberating computing,
Your friendships, interests and creativity are for routing;
Popularity, commendation and consolations are in store,
For your happenings, occasions and scares which mean more.
What a hugging jollity and what jump delight
With "Golly! Everything!" deep in the night;
From hands-on packages---all there are---
Rippling ribbons fly out far!
Open that box, there; what've you got?
"All that I dreamed of, dreamed a lot!
Tickets and maps, yes! trips over sea!
Ah, and for you, dear, a present from me."
Grand, so, the shape, and firm, so, each part,
I know what it is, it's my new heart!
A bold one, a gold one, with a verse inside---
'May your life be integrity and your mind your pride.'
Certain it is, and yours cert, too;
That's why we're living, less won't do!
Giving and taking, glad to have won,
Bankers of honesty, hey! we have fun!
Now put on the coffee and light up a light;
We'll open a map into many a sight:
Vales little dreamt of, mounts never touched,
Trails just beginning, wonders half clutched;
Plateaus of promise waiting man's right---
Planet impassioned with traders' delight;
New dams awaiting, new cities, new farms,
Sparkways of business spreading out charms;
Thousands of earth-stars---Edison's eyes!---
Set to wide angles of night-wake surpeise!
Shipyards and airports humming Thought's strength;
Trainways and highways freighting grand length;
Tap-footed uptowns, where Top-Competence climbs
With Honor's dealings and Profit's chimes
(Ting! rings the money; cling! rings again!
Desires exchanging, happy are men);
Marble-halled fame and Bronze-palaced art,
Where boundless beauty drives the heart---
Logic's heart and good pulse of man,
United in his self-command!
To these we'll go, all these we'll see,
And mark the march of history;
Though Reason's torch flares up so high,
There's less of 'march' and more of 'fly'!
"Hey, down those lights." Why? What've you got?
"A new beginning of an ancient plot---
Some bubbly, bright, for the coming year,
And me, myself, right now, right here!"
Love now touches; kiss one, then kiss two!
Our true destination's a self-made brew.
A trip for tomorrow, a sip for today;
To have no sorrow we gladly pay!
Routing and planning, and shouting "To be!"
Sweet is the music rounding the tree.
"Yea!" to life's pleasure; "Hail!" to this dawn!
Worldly happiness, Christmas, go on!
The last I think I saw of the rustic scene
Of the age long lore and antiques
Before the spell was cast
Was a dancing constellation in the sky
To the throbbing of drum and flute.
A full moon in golden attire watched keenly
Smiling over the quiet thatched huts
And all around the planes of furrows
Where our backbone ache from tilling
Where young cereals countless had sprouted.
Then we reclined on our bamboo beds
Having over-fed with yam porridge
Yam boiled in red oil, dry fish and hot spice
Watching the live coal glow under the tripod
And transfixed by the distant throb of life.
Suddenly a gust of wind descended
Routing from the western valley
The moon quickly puts off its smile
The throbbing ceased, the stars disappeared
And the coal dispersed sparks of its last ember.
I saw the trees bowed to their lords
The sky mumbled with iridescent light
To the distant vale of palms wriggling
Their braided heads to the dissonant rhythm
Of disco and afro night storm.
First there was only a patch of pool
The pool turned to a running stream
And the stream became a flowing river
And the river expanded into a great sea
And the sea brought forth a white monster.
And the monster foaming and roaring
Routed the huts and tossed us into the sea
In the wild turbulent waves set adrift
On a piece of raft, once our bamboo beds
In dark storm and thunderbolts drift amiss.
Then I was woken by voices of weeping
And complaints; doused and shivery,
There was no thatch or mud walls standing
But a great flood washing away
Remnants of our toils and inheritance.
What a hugging jollity and what jump delight
With "Golly! Everything!" deep in the night;
From hands-on packages---all there are---
Rippling ribbons fly out far!
Open that box, there; what've you got?
"All that I dreamed of, dreamed a lot!
Tickets and maps, yes! trips over sea!
Ah, and for you, dear, a present from me."
Grand, so, the shape, and firm, so, each part,
I know what it is, it's my new heart!
A bold one, a gold one, with a verse inside---
'May your life be integrity and your mind your pride.'
Certain it is, and yours cert, too;
That's why we're living, less won't do!
Giving and taking, glad to have won,
Bankers of honesty, hey! we have fun!
Now put on the coffee and light up a light;
We'll open a map into many a sight:
Vales little dreamt of, mounts never touched,
Trails just beginning, wonders half clutched;
Plateaus of promise waiting man's right---
Planet impassioned with traders' delight;
New dams awaiting, new cities, new farms,
Sparkways of business spreading out charms;
Thousands of earth-stars---Edison's eyes!---
Set to wide angles of night-wake surpeise!
Shipyards and airports humming Thought's strength;
Trainways and highways freighting grand length;
Tap-footed uptowns, where Top-Competence climbs
With Honor's dealings and Profit's chimes
(Ting! rings the money; cling! rings again!
Desires exchanging, happy are men);
Marble-halled fame and Bronze-palaced art,
Where boundless beauty drives the heart---
Logic's heart and good pulse of man,
United in his self-command!
To these we'll go, all these we'll see,
And mark the march of history;
Though Reason's torch flares up so high,
There's less of 'march' and more of 'fly'!
"Hey, down those lights." Why? What've you got?
"A new beginning of an ancient plot---
Some bubbly, bright, for the coming year,
And me, myself, right now, right here!"
Love now touches; kiss one, then kiss two!
Our true destination's a self-made brew.
A trip for tomorrow, a sip for today;
To have no sorrow we gladly pay!
Routing and planning, and shouting "To be!"
Sweet is the music rounding the tree.
"Yea!" to life's pleasure; "Hail!" to this dawn!
Worldly happiness, Christmas, go on!