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Poems

SøułSurvivør May 2015
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Sometimes they take over
The rhythms in your head
Nuances of rhyme schemes
The lines your muse has fed
You want to use a smaller word
Pontificate instead
It gallops through your consciousness
A wild horse - unlead!

The hooves go on like thunder
Upon the steed you ride
Tearing up the page
Pen in hand - astride
You are without a bridle
Legs grip the mustang's side
He has his own way
He is a beast with pride!

No - he has no stable
No - his blood flows wild!
Fed grass of the planes
He's restless as a child
A stallion - yes! A bucking bronc!
Unbroken - never mild!
Get into his rhetoric
He's always getting riled!

Write like you're a MUSTANG!
RIDE ON!!! You have no reins!
Get into his rhythm
The rhyme scheme is unstrained
Your footing is unsure
In uncertain terrains
Playing echo chamber music
Those cacophonous refrains

Bust that bronc!!! He's waiting -
Your own head unrestrained!!!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/19/2015
I can't get this rhythm
Out of my head!

---
Devon Baker Aug 2011
The fuzzy hug that never loosens its grasp
Clutching as a barbed wire hugs and puppies cuddle and love,
whiskers and noses nuzzling, the straitjacket loves your mind,
wishes it could just squeeze the nightmares out and streaming as juices from an orange,
but its might only pressurizes, the more you fight the more you hurt,
bruising our precious straitjacket heart, he’s here to help us
take the tasks of fettering hands
just to hug and coil about us
Learn to love them, the society blanket,
the crazy snuggler, the bunny constrictor
Crazy’s not useful and our little straitjacket cures our woes
strangling us within linen cotton folds
simmer our fires
breaking our bronc
hushing our tantrum cry
It’s the mother we Learn to love
Kin that keeps us in heavenly grip
The Straitjacket’s here for all our insanists
Alex McQuate  Dec 2022
2023
Alex McQuate Dec 2022
Fight, Love, Look, See,
Take in such a beautiful brawl that stars you and me,
Flying chairs and broken glass,
Blackened eyes and much-kicked ***.

One more time around that big ball of fire,
What will this trip bring this time around?
Some mud and hard to trek mire,
Or gold and diamond laid ground,
An easy path ahead towards we joyfully bound?

Such wisdom must lie in the future,
Startling realizations and obstacles we approach,
Yet stretches onward like a magnificent azure beacher,
That one might upon first glance be wary to broach.

But saunter forth we must,
With the trodden gait of some war-weary old sailor,
With a rind of salt crust,
Who has been both Captain and Bailer,
Lost-Limbed and near broken.

Such a great journey this last trip was,
Such changes it has brought,
With a son I learned caution and to be more kind,
Abandoning my careless risks,
To have more presence of mind,
To weigh my options and be more careful with my money,
And to always be more kind.

But roots you should not forget,
To take chances still,
To still live life with no regrets,
For no flour is made in a place that is a still mill.

Love this world,
But don't hate the things you can't change,
Fight for those things,
With tooth and claw,
For those things will be the most relished victory of all.

I sit here typing this,
A bittersweet adieu to the year 2022,
For death rung in the year,
And leaves me with the gift of a new life,
The start with a startling pain from the stab of a knife,
But ending with the approaching of joy that is oh-so-near.

Lace up your boots,
******* your pack,
Take a seat,
Buckle in,
7 seconds left on this bucking bronc,
A last kick that will bring a few more knocks,
But will bring in the new year with smiles that lets the last stings of death defrocked.