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Zack Ripley Aug 17
"I wish I could fight."
"You can."
"How? I don't know how
to punch or move."
"You fight with words.
It's called kung fu typing."
"Kung fu typing?
Did you just make that up?
Doesn't sound very cool."
"It's not supposed to be.
But if you master it,
you'll never need to worry
about not knowing
how to punch or move."
Maja Mar 8
It was a joke
he didn’t mean to lift his hand
he didn’t mean to bring it down

he didn’t mean to raise it a second time
he didn’t mean to commit a second crime.

He didn’t mean it.

But if everyone got pardoned
for the things they said and did without meaning,
everyone would hit
and no one would mean it.
Again, actions speak louder than words, and ironically, that is because you can't say them.
Trust the first fist,
not the apology that comes after when the deed is already done.
Marri Jan 10
You confuse karate with love.
You punch, kick, and block.
You master the form,
Practice and practice.
You remember the creed.
Karate is not love.
You don’t kickstart the heart,
You can’t block love out,
Or punch it into submission.

I confuse love with poetry.
I read, write, and dream.
I master the edict of the pen,
Recite and recite.
I remember the sonnets.
Poetry is not love.
You don’t stanza the heart,
You can’t make a metaphor out of love,
Or personify it into breathing.

When will we learn?
When will you stop kicking Cupid?
When will I stop serenading him?
When will we stop this silly interpretation of love?

I don’t know,
But I’ll stop if you stop too.
I try to make your place
in my overweight heart
as small as possible

and yet

you punched your way
through my chest
with only two words

(my angel)
The Vault Sep 2019
No more tears for me.
Rap and punching
Pain is my new relief.
KM Hanslik Sep 2019
Lately, been on an ego trip
just trying not to flip my ****
or put my fists wherever they'll fit,
meet your skin and feel it rip
Been on a lifelong ego trip
telling myself just to go with it,
feeling lost and trying to sift
through all the *******, leaving matches lit
wherever I go, take a sip but swallow slow
feeling like I'm about to blow,
about to go off & I don't even know
how to make reparations
with all these half-strained relations,
half-numb sensations
eating away at my patience;
hit the ground running; touchdown on pavement
& you can ask me how my day went,
maybe you really do care
about global warming and solar flares,
but it's been rough even trying to comb my hair
hit me up like you've been there
or follow up with one of your blank stares,
but I'm good on that, I think I've had my share
trying not to go off in parking lots and coining insults on-the-spot
one-liner comebacks on-the-dot;

Been on a trip with my ego
just following wherever she goes
but she can take me down some dark roads,
I guess that's why I go with the flow
so much but I'm tryna break out of that
like trying not to swing when you're up to bat,
swimming in **** like a sewage rat,
Been riding my ego cause it gets me high
head in the gutter, middle fingers to the sky
leave my conscience on standby,
shooting shots like a drive-by,
ground zero and time to let these bullets fly
just another petty cry
for something we never knew was a lie
turns out we've been milking our will to live dry;
I think it's time to put our egos aside,
I think I wanna get off this ride.
Remember kids, ****** is never the answer. ****** is, of course, the question. And the answer is yes.

Remember kids, if you ever stab someone, punch them where you're gonna stab. They'll think you punched really hard, they won't realised you stabbed them.
A "poem" every day.
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