Long Intercept Poems
Long Intercept Poems. Below are the most popular long Intercept by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intercept poems by poem length and keyword.
In seventeen seventy-seven,
amidst the deep summer’s August heat,
Barry St. Leger, loyalist milita,
and the Iroquois walked on sore feet.
Their mission was clear: move down the Mohawk,
meet Burgoyne and split the rebel states,
except the Americans in Fort Stanwix
were effectively blocking their way.
To advance the fort had to be reduced,
but St. Leger’s force had few big guns,
so he settled into a siege of the fort,
with a mind to hold strong 'til he’d won.
But the patriots knew of the British plans,
and were not content to just sit and wait,
Tyrion County called up its militia
to save Stanwix from a bloody fate.
Eight hundred of them marched for the fort,
under the command of Nick Herkimer,
a palatine German of the Mohawk vale,
an able and determined fighter.
They stopped to camp not far from Stanwix,
and Herkimer counseled that they should hold,
to await a signal from inside the fort
and launch a two-front attack bold.
But the militia saw this as cowardice,
and said,”What else could we expect?
His own brother fights with St. Leger,
we can’t expect him to take the next step.”
Herkimer darkened at his men’s words,
and would not idly receive their scorn,
he ordered the men to be on the ready,
they would advance the following morn.
But the British knew of their approach,
and prepared to put them to the test,
near five hundred set out to intercept,
mostly Iroquois with some Loyalists.
The next day the Americans, on the move,
found themselves passing through a ravine,
unaware that eyes stared upon them
as they drank from a cool, tiny stream.
The British had planned to wait until
the patriots were all stretched out,
but some Indians opened fire too early,
a roar of muskets and loud piercing shouts.
The first volleys hit hard, stunned the militia,
a good many brave soldiers went down,
Herkimer took a ball in the leg,
and from a dying horse pitched to the ground.
So fierce was that first surprise attack,
so many patriotic souls shot dead,
that all sides involved said the tiny stream
was stained by the blood until red.
Some tried to move wounded Herkimer,
but he was still in no mood for retreat,
he took out a pipe, leaned on a tree trunk,
and said,”I will meet the enemy...”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Target via advertising
Stupid firms and stupid brands
Because such generalizing
Does require intercept
For the influence of moron
For the psyches thus offense
Does perform defense the function
Very real thus defense
Maxwell color wheel invention
Wasn't meant for purpose this
Any act will have redemption
Suck it activism for peace
Hex my wheel is much more nicer
Isn't purposed for the firms
Neither chips or AI models
Eligible for the use, THUS DROP
No one alive is entitled
For ownership of this
For creating definitions
For your stupid quantum keys
Up your ******* shove your polynomial
Find your system in ruins
If the GAWD was up for nominal
Grouping units would be this
Saint neuron and thus saint atom
Saint Ski Wiper and Saint Flame
Real Cyber Force ain't phantom
Kate alone not all this say
I don't like your clone, the stupid
I don't like you stupid farms
Phantasy is arch of cupid
Says the very real ARMS
Every pair needs reapair
Every nail hammer demands
Crates of screws, crates of potatoes
Armed the forces is Supply
See how clever play I memory
Like the mouse with cat plays
Very special super system
Building Kate produced thus lays
Lays the basis
FOUNDATION
Logic, ethics, levels, ranks
Ought to combat degradation
Cyber special pie the bakes
Department of Army deficiency
Departments of Government stall
So much for the moron efficiency
So much for the
Because they use AI for fraud
Path does away from GAWD they trod
But Military must produce the lie
This wisdom knows each very clever spy
The candles are extinguished today and the crucifix covered in black
for the One whos life was once bludgeoned with ignorance and greed
As He readied for heaven, he took each heavy Pontus whack
for sake of a world that could not accept nor believe, His Holy Creed
Some repented while others shouted profanities and ignored His tears
as He carried the Cross towards His final resting place, He slowly wept
the sky, grueling dark unbending, did not shed the rain nor smear
while His laced up sandals walked the sand without God's intercept
"But If I, With The Finger Of God," He once implied before he died
but this was not to be, for the Son of God belonged to man's transfix
He walked through throngs and herds as he closed the great divide
they watched, as clustered Halos grew around His bloodied Crucifix
But If I, With The Finger Of God could wipe away His pain
be more then just a writer recalling His death with ink and quill
The world would be changed as I know it, and He would Reign
Yes He is the One who died but also, the One they could not kill.
The reinforced by interests of the firms
The mass of humans are possessed by the smartphones
Which via cyber weapons track locations
The data centers monitors their operation
The markets, prices and the satellites
The phone numbers and their operating systems contacts
Internal processes within their matrices of numbers
The radiation penetrates the atmosphere and the ownership
Their eyes becoming the AI
When eyeing they each all the same UI
The weapon does end up in eyes of the producer
Their internal APIs
Their AIs
Their brains and sources for the system
Of the Government Defense
Because this is Offense
This really is Offense
Bright screen attracts the view of viewer
Whom as Driver
In dark
Experiences Quantum the Eraser
The memory
And aberrations
Experiences of the Deep
The Diver
The submarine that holds the nucklear control
The Pult
Command
Control
And troll
And via paradigm of the methane
Rises through system of collective
The subconscious
The annealing, and the AN
Whether Platform of these
Appears the underneath
Or the above of moron heads of you
The stupid monkeys
The flock whose pasture
Is the Internet
I shall produce the Intercept
Constant jeopardy is something we must accept.
An asteroid whizzed by on a near-intercept.
Two million miles is not a distance that is far.
It was a reminder of how vulnerable we are.
The close call happened to be just last night.
Many around the world are startled with fright.
There are plenty of big rocks floating around in space.
If one hits us, it may end the human race.
We are not old enough to remember the fate of the dinosaur.
Those big reptiles roamed the planet in numbers galore.
Something happened, and they are not around anymore.
To insure the survival of the species called “man”,
don’t you think it’s a good idea to have a contingency plan?
From a news story found on aol.com
Dancing breezes
Bursts of sun
Crisp apple autumn day
Leaves twirl upwards with a flourish
Spurning twigs that yearn to cling
Lovers pass by, their laughter lingers
Dark clouds obscure the sun
Colors change to shadows blurred
Gone is the beauty in the rust and gold
Longing is found in the chill as the sky surrenders
One drop of rain falls and a lonely blackbird takes wing
Windblown and cold
I breathe in your sweater's scent
Never more
Will you reach out to intercept
A falling leaf
____________________________________________________________________________
Collaboration between Sharon Weimer and Carrie Richards
for Debbie Guzzi's "Twining" contest
On an as is where is basis, let’s accept
ourself as consciousness as this body-mind,
recognising we’re limited and inept,
floundering about through life, as do the blind,
fears and desires unable to intercept,
yet hope that truth of our soul will be divined.
It’s clear we need to slow down the flow of thought,
if we wish to transcend mind and be self-taught.
Just as the waves of the ocean ebb and flow,
we observe that thoughts too rise and fade away,
so by simply witnessing, we make them slow,
nonchalance holding all attachments at bay,
whence in depths of staid stillness we get to know,
that we’re not this feeble form, doomed to decay.
When thoughts recede, our heart not head takes the lead
and bliss pheromones within begin to breed.
If silence be the way, what is there to learn
from pastor’s sermons or a religious text,
since only when we transmute in body urn,
will the throb of bliss magnetism be annexed,
for which presence must choose to willingly burn,
that lower mind dies, which mostly remains vexed?
A day comes when we recognise in plain sight,
that who we are in truth, is God’s living light.
As the Ghost of Gasperella watched from his perch
He was drenched from his pants to his shirt
But before the gridiron battle ended and the Knights still had the mission to be defended,
In the bowl game that was dealing with conditions that were a messing
There was one more question that needed a dressing,
On this day looking for talent at their best
At stake was the spread that determined who would go home with the treasure chest
Having one last chance the herd could steal the money
During a game where the weather was supposed to be warm and sunny,
Strategically sending a fling the herd threw a bomb that might have hit the King.
Only problem was there was a Knight there to intercept this act of might.
With nothing more to say
The knights added to the score which made them take home the gold before Christmas Day.
In conclusion when it does rain
Do as the Ghost of Gasperella did and enjoy the game
That was really a final exam for those searching for fortune and fame.
I was born in a spoken Word
a universe of infinitesimally low entropy
energy and matter
pressed into order
incredibly dense
God breathed
Since that first compression
I have been sliding
toward indifference
toward equilibrium
and yet your existence remains
statistically staggering
You are temporary whirlpools
in my river of chaos
the bloom of a flower
the warmth of a coffee cup
the span of a human life
beautiful because they are
fleeting states
of disequilibrium
You live in the pinprick window
between my highly ordered beginning
and my ultimate stillness
the Heat Death
where every particle
surrenders
its last difference
You call it paradox
that life seems to break my rules
but life does not break
the Second Law
it discovers
the loophole within me
the narrow passage
between collapse
and creation
You intercept sunlight
like a waterwheel
catching a waterfall
performing thermodynamic work
building order
from my downhill slide
But there is no free lunch
to create a pristine room
you must sweat
breathe heavily
radiate heat
you make the room ordered
and the air around you
more disordered
Life does the same
on a grander scale
to keep your body
your brain
your memories
in a state of low entropy
you consume
transform
and return
chaos
back into the room
You pay me
an entropy tax
you become
a masterpiece of order
only because you turn
your surroundings
into a stadium of disorder
faster than they would decay
on their own
You are temporary
stardust
golden
brilliant knots
tied in my fraying rope
tight only because
energy continues
to pass through you
And still
after knowing
the fate of stars
after hearing
the silence waiting
at the edge of time
you plant gardens
The professor launches one of his speeches
He is talking of graphs and predictive's
He is talking of probabilities and outcomes
Abu raises his hand, Yes tell us what you think
He is prompted by the short jovial professor
What about the Y intercept says Abu
Puzzled.. are you talking about an out-lier
Then the professor moves to the light switch
Then tap.. on and off.. its a light bulb moment
The Y intercept is the hand that made it all
Choosing to manifest and exert influence
Why do you do that the professor queries
They then launch a philosophical discourse
Till the end of the lecture satisfied
They are filled now partaking knowledge