This is a covert operation. We maintain an illusion of indifference and detachment while subtly probing for information and access. We wear wigs and make-up, and duck when we see cameras because as long as we aren’t caught, we remain safe.
It was covert, our tryst. We were like diamonds glittering in an undiscovered mine. We were never found out. We were beyond remorse. But it was only sex.
Coverts were well kept around court, but some were spat out and frighteningly, it would spread the whole kingdom and sometimes, even the whole country. Eustace had a covert for me and I knew the importance of keeping it safe with me.
i think of an operation. that james bond shit. i wish i could go on a covert operation. i hope i’m thinking of the right word. that would be embarrassing. i don’t know what else to say, this is hard. i’m out of time.
wordless aftermath of a bloodied and bruised
conversation
prickly eavesdrops
mass masturbation
over and over
we covertly cover
what we want
couched in what we hear
and never again
to face a fear.
It was covert operation. My mom and I had been talking about government secrets (a conversation brought on by watching the Bourne Legacy) and I realized. . .this was one.
His covert actions made her cringe each time he came near her, but because he was her superior, there was nothing she could do about it. He smiled and winked at her and that almost made her want to puke.
I tried to covertly sneak off to my room, tried to remain unnoticed. All I wanted to do was read a book or watch a movie, just do something closed off and by myself. Just not get drunk, honestly. Some days are great for that sort of thing, for knocking back alcohol and losing your inhibitions, for making bad jokes and having people laugh at them not because they’ve heard what you said but because they’re inebriated. I’m not particularly averse to such things. They have their time and place.
Everyone else seems to think that that time and place is here and now, but I disagree. And so I resort to sneaking, I resort to crawling away. But they catch me and drag me back out.
I cannot remember where I started, or where I was destined by this point in time. The tunnels ran through the dirt like holes eaten by worms. I knew coming here in secret may not have been my wisest decision, and now that I may never escape from this place, I almost wish I had never came.
The plan was to be covert. All he had to do was drop the powder in his companion’s drink and he would be done. It wouldn’t even be painful for him. All that he’d feel would be an overwhelming sense of drowsiness, and he’d drop like a fly. Easy as pie.
Covert. I’m not really sure what this means so I’m just gonna write random stuff. I like birds, I would never buy one as a pet, but the noises the make are so pretty. But I do find it funny when cartoon birds make squawking sounds. It almost like they’re dying…which is actually kinda messed up now that I think about it.
Covert is a semi known word. I actually am not sure what it means. So for this reason i feel stupid. This leads to me no longer liking the word covert. Covert is a word that makes me feel stupid. However maybe i am stupid…
its an operation in which i cant not tell anyone my real purpose i must pretend. i must never let anyone know the horror i hold in my heart. i must cover it all up and pretend i am ok. i must be like an agent in a spy company. i must never show my real feelings again. it will be better for everyone.
The man was almost never excited, but today he was. As he hopped into the back of the taxi, he knew something was not right. The driver looked back at him and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. He ran out the door and through the city, but suddenly everything turned into slow motion. He closed his eyes for barely a second, but when he opened his eyes, he seemed to be in an only white room. He could hear the slightest sounds of the city, and then sudden silence. The man laid down on the floor and prayed he could go back home. Without warning, everything was black, and as the man started to get up, he could hear the faintest sound of someone laughing, and it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, either, but it was getting louder.
Covert was probably my favorite word as a child, I heard it one day and thought how perfectly it fit the rest of my life. You see, at the time I was a nine year old girl who was also a ninja, and everything I did, I did in secret. My mission was to save the world, and to climb this tree… and to swing across the lake of fire by this skinny old rope, but no one could know because it was all covert, my secret. Now at sixteen, it’s still the perfect word. No one needs to know about me, my mission in life is my own. Parents, friends, siblings, teachers… they know nothing about my mission. Covert is the perfect word.
The covert man was almost never excited, but today he was. As he hopped into the back of the taxi, he knew something was not right. The driver looked back at him and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile
covert. covert mission. I will never go on a covert mission. The only mission I have is to leave my bed, and I can’t. How do I just get up? I want to live.
It started as a tiny caterpillar it seems very signification in the big scheme of things but became a bigger, better butterfly. It was still itself; only transformed.
is how it would seem. So many projects. The reports come afterwards. They’re not secret, not exactly; but many are dead ends, and I don’t know which ones. The world will only know what I finish.
Agent Nagg followed the suspicious vehicle into the warehouse where he found it to be abandoned, he quickly turn around only to be greeted with a knife to the chest.
Secrets told behind closed doors. People too ashamed to tell the truth. Covert operations. We hid our sins, our shame, in the dark, hoping that it will never catch up to us. Alas, it usually does. It comes to us while we’re sleeping, vulnerable, and strangles us with a rope made of our sordid actions. We cannot escape, we cannot survive, we are done. Our fate is sealed.
He smiled in this covert way, like he had a secret for her. Or about her. It was hard to tell.
“You know I’ve never been on a train this long.”
“You’ve not?”
“Nope,” She sighed and looked out of the window.
Covert glances, looking left and right, doing all he could to seem helpless and lost. And they fell for it. He was surrounded but they soon found that there was not much they could do against the thing he really was. None survived.
Covert.
what does that even mean
I think it means some thing like hidden or under cover
“Covert Operation.” you know?
interesting word choice.
I sent this link to my friend with writers block, I hope it helps.
black black black
i see you in dusty windows
and frayed curtains
behind and hiding
within a sickly yellow motel
you’re pacing the persian carpet
paisley leaves in a quite lake
you’re waiting for morning to come
and i’m waiting for the moon to rise.
cover art covert cover your t shirt color vert, green coat and vest. covert operations and nations and spaces and places. covert people. no. i mean covert operatives
Is this a cruel joke? A word from my past, recurring in the present? How do I write this word, covert? Another look into the dictionary, I suppose.
Oh, hey. This is the opposite of yesterday. And yesterday, that was the day of my covert heart. The past is to become the future, the present describes the past. I should really get a time machine to straighten this all out.
i thought this said convert. convert makes me think of religion. i like religion but i dont like the way people use it. they seem to use it as a weapon/prove a point/to sell their ideas/guilt trip people and in some cases hurt them. im not religous but i think id make a better religous person than most religous people.
There was something in the way she held herself that made him think she was hiding something. Now, it wasn’t the usual things, like drawing in on her own body, pulling her coat tightly around her; head down, eyes not meeting his. No– this was openness, a blatant lie. Something was going on that he didn’t know about, but she showed no fear. Yes, she challenged, there’s something you don’t know. And I’m not telling.
Covert. Obscure. Things flutter behind the veil of my mind, swim amongst the silt at the bottom of my brain. Sometimes these thoughts stir. They send a shiver of unease down my spine but I put it down to the cold. They are invisible strings, revealing nothing and controlling all.
Someone who is quiet and doesnt share their feelings with others. They come across as mysterious and intrigue those around them. They are very private people who do not openly share secrets with the world. Someone who is covert is likely to think before making decisions, especially important ones. They are kind and gentle and trustworthy people, much like my ex boyfriend.
Converted to his stare, I never thought I’d fall in love with such an odd man. He was beautiful though, nothin’ compares to him.
This is a covert operation. We maintain an illusion of indifference and detachment while subtly probing for information and access. We wear wigs and make-up, and duck when we see cameras because as long as we aren’t caught, we remain safe.
It was covert, our tryst. We were like diamonds glittering in an undiscovered mine. We were never found out. We were beyond remorse. But it was only sex.
Coverts were well kept around court, but some were spat out and frighteningly, it would spread the whole kingdom and sometimes, even the whole country. Eustace had a covert for me and I knew the importance of keeping it safe with me.
i think of an operation. that james bond shit. i wish i could go on a covert operation. i hope i’m thinking of the right word. that would be embarrassing. i don’t know what else to say, this is hard. i’m out of time.
wordless aftermath of a bloodied and bruised
conversation
prickly eavesdrops
mass masturbation
over and over
we covertly cover
what we want
couched in what we hear
and never again
to face a fear.
It was covert operation. My mom and I had been talking about government secrets (a conversation brought on by watching the Bourne Legacy) and I realized. . .this was one.
Knowing this made my stomach go heavy.
His covert actions made her cringe each time he came near her, but because he was her superior, there was nothing she could do about it. He smiled and winked at her and that almost made her want to puke.
I tried to covertly sneak off to my room, tried to remain unnoticed. All I wanted to do was read a book or watch a movie, just do something closed off and by myself. Just not get drunk, honestly. Some days are great for that sort of thing, for knocking back alcohol and losing your inhibitions, for making bad jokes and having people laugh at them not because they’ve heard what you said but because they’re inebriated. I’m not particularly averse to such things. They have their time and place.
Everyone else seems to think that that time and place is here and now, but I disagree. And so I resort to sneaking, I resort to crawling away. But they catch me and drag me back out.
I cannot remember where I started, or where I was destined by this point in time. The tunnels ran through the dirt like holes eaten by worms. I knew coming here in secret may not have been my wisest decision, and now that I may never escape from this place, I almost wish I had never came.
The plan was to be covert. All he had to do was drop the powder in his companion’s drink and he would be done. It wouldn’t even be painful for him. All that he’d feel would be an overwhelming sense of drowsiness, and he’d drop like a fly. Easy as pie.
Covert. I’m not really sure what this means so I’m just gonna write random stuff. I like birds, I would never buy one as a pet, but the noises the make are so pretty. But I do find it funny when cartoon birds make squawking sounds. It almost like they’re dying…which is actually kinda messed up now that I think about it.
Covert is a semi known word. I actually am not sure what it means. So for this reason i feel stupid. This leads to me no longer liking the word covert. Covert is a word that makes me feel stupid. However maybe i am stupid…
its an operation in which i cant not tell anyone my real purpose i must pretend. i must never let anyone know the horror i hold in my heart. i must cover it all up and pretend i am ok. i must be like an agent in a spy company. i must never show my real feelings again. it will be better for everyone.
The man was almost never excited, but today he was. As he hopped into the back of the taxi, he knew something was not right. The driver looked back at him and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. He ran out the door and through the city, but suddenly everything turned into slow motion. He closed his eyes for barely a second, but when he opened his eyes, he seemed to be in an only white room. He could hear the slightest sounds of the city, and then sudden silence. The man laid down on the floor and prayed he could go back home. Without warning, everything was black, and as the man started to get up, he could hear the faintest sound of someone laughing, and it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, either, but it was getting louder.
Covert was probably my favorite word as a child, I heard it one day and thought how perfectly it fit the rest of my life. You see, at the time I was a nine year old girl who was also a ninja, and everything I did, I did in secret. My mission was to save the world, and to climb this tree… and to swing across the lake of fire by this skinny old rope, but no one could know because it was all covert, my secret. Now at sixteen, it’s still the perfect word. No one needs to know about me, my mission in life is my own. Parents, friends, siblings, teachers… they know nothing about my mission. Covert is the perfect word.
The covert man was almost never excited, but today he was. As he hopped into the back of the taxi, he knew something was not right. The driver looked back at him and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile
covert. covert mission. I will never go on a covert mission. The only mission I have is to leave my bed, and I can’t. How do I just get up? I want to live.
It started as a tiny caterpillar it seems very signification in the big scheme of things but became a bigger, better butterfly. It was still itself; only transformed.
is how it would seem. So many projects. The reports come afterwards. They’re not secret, not exactly; but many are dead ends, and I don’t know which ones. The world will only know what I finish.
Qué diablos es “covert?”.
Paciencia, que lo estoy buscando en Google…
Oh, significa “encubierto”. Algo como operaciones encubiertas.
En cubiertas. No sé de qué hablar, de operaciones misteriosas tal vez.
Me recuerda a James Bond y sus operaciones. O cuando jugábamos en el Gamecube de Gustavo.
Agent Nagg followed the suspicious vehicle into the warehouse where he found it to be abandoned, he quickly turn around only to be greeted with a knife to the chest.
Secrets told behind closed doors. People too ashamed to tell the truth. Covert operations. We hid our sins, our shame, in the dark, hoping that it will never catch up to us. Alas, it usually does. It comes to us while we’re sleeping, vulnerable, and strangles us with a rope made of our sordid actions. We cannot escape, we cannot survive, we are done. Our fate is sealed.
He smiled in this covert way, like he had a secret for her. Or about her. It was hard to tell.
“You know I’ve never been on a train this long.”
“You’ve not?”
“Nope,” She sighed and looked out of the window.
I hope my ashes are tickling daisy seeds
when these politicians decide,
once again, to redefine covert action
Covert glances, looking left and right, doing all he could to seem helpless and lost. And they fell for it. He was surrounded but they soon found that there was not much they could do against the thing he really was. None survived.
Covert.
what does that even mean
I think it means some thing like hidden or under cover
“Covert Operation.” you know?
interesting word choice.
I sent this link to my friend with writers block, I hope it helps.
I need to be covert? For what reason, everyone knows actions speak louder than words. So why should I be secret about my love?
black black black
i see you in dusty windows
and frayed curtains
behind and hiding
within a sickly yellow motel
you’re pacing the persian carpet
paisley leaves in a quite lake
you’re waiting for morning to come
and i’m waiting for the moon to rise.
secretly stealing away in the night
cold like a butchers knife
i wait for you at the end of the lane
where you cannot turn away.
cover art covert cover your t shirt color vert, green coat and vest. covert operations and nations and spaces and places. covert people. no. i mean covert operatives
this is a covert operation, me trying to win you back.
I have networks of spies to send me info on your movements.
I take my plan very seriously and I will win you back.
Covert operations under a covert black sky in covert sharp boots in covert faces with covert eyes that look like statues in mist.
Is this a cruel joke? A word from my past, recurring in the present? How do I write this word, covert? Another look into the dictionary, I suppose.
Oh, hey. This is the opposite of yesterday. And yesterday, that was the day of my covert heart. The past is to become the future, the present describes the past. I should really get a time machine to straighten this all out.
a covert thought came to her to slip around the rocks and silently creep through the mossy underbrush…her designated spot was clear.
Haha not overt. Like how your dislike for some people can be.
i thought this said convert. convert makes me think of religion. i like religion but i dont like the way people use it. they seem to use it as a weapon/prove a point/to sell their ideas/guilt trip people and in some cases hurt them. im not religous but i think id make a better religous person than most religous people.
There was something in the way she held herself that made him think she was hiding something. Now, it wasn’t the usual things, like drawing in on her own body, pulling her coat tightly around her; head down, eyes not meeting his. No– this was openness, a blatant lie. Something was going on that he didn’t know about, but she showed no fear. Yes, she challenged, there’s something you don’t know. And I’m not telling.
Covert. Obscure. Things flutter behind the veil of my mind, swim amongst the silt at the bottom of my brain. Sometimes these thoughts stir. They send a shiver of unease down my spine but I put it down to the cold. They are invisible strings, revealing nothing and controlling all.
Someone who is quiet and doesnt share their feelings with others. They come across as mysterious and intrigue those around them. They are very private people who do not openly share secrets with the world. Someone who is covert is likely to think before making decisions, especially important ones. They are kind and gentle and trustworthy people, much like my ex boyfriend.