#fists
You were jazz
In the static
The cigarette
I didn’t know I lit
I'm in the
bar brawls
the graffiti prayers
On alley walls
That say
“God might be dead
but I met someone
who made me
believe again”
I’m not a god
of “yes”
I’m a god of
"show me"
Show me the art
in your brokenness
Show me the poetry
in your fists
Make a religion
out of surviving
the things I threw
at you just to see
if you’d flinch
I ain’t the god
you pray to
when the gun
is already cocked
I’m the one
who built
the trigger
I’m the *******
Who lit stars
like molotovs
tossed into The dark
Just to see what
would catch fire
Don’t ask me
why bad things happen
Ask yourself
why you survive them
you forget
The first temple
was a fistfight
The first prayer
was a screaming plea
The first miracle
was any of it
happening at all
I don’t do sermons
I do scale
I made a
universe so big that
you’d always feel
lost in it
Because the moment
you are lost
you start looking
I didn’t make
it big so
nothing would matter
I made it big
so you’d stop
pretending it does
Welcome to scale
You’re not small because
the universe is big
You’re just used
to being told
where the walls are
You want the universe
to love you back
But it just isn’t
built for that
It’s built
to go on
Not heaven
No reward
Just this
A moment
where you knew
you were alive
And it didn’t last
because it
didn’t have to
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 2:18 AM UTC
I crumpled up my hands in fists
And talked about some silly things
With voice raised up
And eyebrows tensed
I tried to make myself a man
But all these things that I’ve done wrong
Were little more than strikes on gongs
The beating of my life on drums
An angry chicken pecking cans
And scattered up and down my head
Lie tired thoughts in gutter beds
All heaped up, clogging drain pipes
The hotdog wrappers of my mind
I’m crying now like rainless skies
Like desert dust that’s learned to fly
And all this cheese, these tacky thoughts
Are just more trash that add to clot
I’m crumbling now from over crowding
An ancient temple that’s eroding
Too many feet of passersby
Aimless flocks of careless spies
Look at me through my own eyes
A tourist of myself am I
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 9:24 PM UTC
ink flows out of my brain
through my blood vessels
to my soft fingertips.
my hands curl into fists
as I crumple a sheet of paper.
a corner lightly cuts my finger,
and the ink flows onto the page.
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 12:34 AM UTC
Flesh of a lonely man
Needs make up
Wreaths on this list coming
Crossing out and ticking the boxes
We’re still holding the dust of souls
And ashen glances look like desultory glances
****** on the nursed streets
The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives
We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes
Feigining for the father figure
I hope we have had a good time
The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly
Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding
Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court
Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever
Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking
Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never
The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit
I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run
Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 7:41 PM UTC
It gets cold at night
I close my eyes
Try to see
The loved ones who've left me
Faces growing dim
Tears creep
Down my cheek where they seldom
Fall
Fists clenched
Heart tight
For its been
Too many a night
Since I've seen
How their eyes shine
Too many to count
With one hand
Forgotten memories fade away
To return in a frightening manner
Unexpected
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
Sorry if I'm a little hard spoken on this poem,
But the ******** that i put up with for so many years got me
Clinching my fists and releasing my hate on the tree in the
Backyard where all the weights are, no point to recharge,
No point To be on guard,
**** this life and the people that tried to end mine,
Picking on my mental illness,
I can see the end around the corner.
Is it a crime to want to live in peace, no there no peace nowhere,
They say God doesn't put you through something you can not beat,
And while I'm torn between the fake and reality , I can not be.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
get up, kid
wipe the dirt from your pants
wipe the blood from your cheeks
get up, kid
bare your teeth with your chapped lips
bare your fists with your bruised knuckles
get up, kid
scream
scream and let your throat go raw
but don't stop
don't stop
don't stop
get up, kid
make me proud
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
. conscience of gold
never stopped me from wrapping
my heart up in the darkest of things.
don't go, tread
softly on this newly broken soil. Kiss
your palms once each before you touch
anything that resides here. Leave
your twisted metal heart at the door, it won't pass
the screenings. I want to know what summer tastes like
I want to know how the colors rest on your tastebuds and dissolve
into your bloodstream, warm and
welcoming. Brush
the dust off old phrases
turn them over in this new light to see
how they fit.
Shelf them, along with
iron fists and barbed wire. We've no need of such
weapons in this place.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
my heart is a shield, it shall make people heed before they fight into it,
my fists is a reliable weapon i do not wish to use, but i do,
my skin is where my weakness lies, where things can crawl all over it with or without my permission,
however my mouth is where i can strike those in the heart, its a canon i always use,
and my eyes?
my eyes.
one of the worst of them all.
my eyes can hold the warmest sun but also yield the coldest storm
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
...
..
.
our fingertip bangs
masterpieces
of
the
heart
you try
an own
that
our fingertip bangs
?
...
..
.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
They may have this moment,
immature gestures of
what lies beneath there misgivings,
of pushing me against the walls of
my self-esteem.
They may have this moment,
glancing words,
reverberating, like fingertips
on crystal shards,
within the static frailty of
my self-worth.
But my moment was when,
I realized I wasn't
broken
damaged,
It was all about there need for control
on a world that has none.
And I'm no longer there's anymore.
My words of thanks, yes your quite charming!
With your systematic verses, but you need to
vary oneself.
As you sound like a repeat of
last nights show... And repeats get boring.
So what manner of vocabulary, abusive motions
do you want to play out?? if none please just move along...
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
Love galore
It was all being given to you and none to me
Showered in abuse instead of love
Embraced on the cheek with a fist instead of a kiss
Looked at with disgust instead of admiration
Told that I'll never be able to leave but you can't wait until I'm dead
I'm the one loving you when no one else is
The only one treasuring you when no one does
Still in love with you because i know you won't make it alone
But here I am, loving you
When you don't love me
Stuck in this 'love galore'
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
The years of being constantly knocked down are forever gone.
No more heart on her sleeve and clenched fists.
The suffocated voice inside her has grown strong.
She speaks louder than ever, and no one dares to go against her.
The fear in her eyes is replaced by vengance.
A fierce, unpredictable rebel is born.
Heading for war.
She's now ready for anything and anyone.
The most beautiful, savage beast anyone has ever laid eyes on.
With fire in her eyes, purple lipstick and Dr. Martens she is now waiting.
To watch her enemies crumble beneath her feet.
And she breaks into that lethal smile of hers that only she possesses.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
Vocalization woven in palms of an interpreted force,
censorship is versed where only a fist in restrained in
preparation of a moment wielded in distemper.
Aversion is the weapon yielding over another
Degraded by the waves of depression pushing her
further from the shores of a sanctuary, she must
use wilful reflection to abate the coming precipitation.
Stronger in willingness a knock is heard at the door..
"Freedom is the courage to verse to others and not in silence,
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
You knocked quietly, yelled loudly. Sometimes I can't tell the difference. You come in with fangs out ready to pounce. Little do you ever come for a plesent conversation. But Usually just to mark my walls with your claws again. Your voice is growling and your laugh is a long snarl, one that I can not unhear. The roof shakes at the vibrations of your foot steps. Thump, clatter. Thump, shake. Thump whimper. You circle me with your words, like pray, making me trip and stumble. That is how you win, isn't in? Make your opponent smaller then you feel inside?
You're a slob , you say.
Good for nothing, you yell.
Why are you always alone? You ask.
Why ask when you know? Why make the memory of your words and the feeling of your fists brighter and deeper in my mind? Oh that's write this isn't pleasant talk. You are here to win. To mark me with a stamp saying that I am nothing.
But as I stood up surrounded by nothingness and darkness, I had to remind myself that i am a human. Flesh and bone. A real person. One with a destiny, thoughts and feelings. Not one less important then the other.
I am not little red riding hood who hid under hoods while being consumed by ugly things disguised as familiar.
I am not Bell who did something she swore she would never do; she settled for someone she did not love.
I am the lady of the lake.
I am the tree that fell in the forest and dared to make a noise.
I well not be locked in towers by men afraid of fire.
I well not stay away from the sea and sun and fly in the same air I have always breathed.
I am more, and I am bigger on the inside then you feel on the outside
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
I may write in darkness
but I was a damaged
toy from birth. I was
the focus of many fists
at school and at home.
I got over these hurdles
now more stronger than before.
I'm now a crazy dad, father,
My wife completes me whole.
"My ink is just imagination,
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:48 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel your cold fists against my cheek,
and I remember the last times we peacefully got to sleep.
Im getting weak.
as I can't get over the new smell of the newly fallen autumn leaves,
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
The dead trespass through my mind
They cave in skulls through forced lobotomy
They strap the population for lethal injection
They take lead fists to soft flesh
Claws to clean eyes
Stealing voices
Cutting out pink tongues
Cramming microphone down your throat
Can you hear me now
Hammers and clubs slam death home with every blow
Tonight we let the victims show
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
Tears like avalanches.
Overwhelming.
Unleashed potential.
Sadness like waves.
Devastating.
Unceasing assault.
Fists like thunder.
Engaging.
Unintended consequence.
Hate like earthquakes.
Consuming.
Unwanted arrival.
Smiles like sunshine.
Captivating.
Unassuming appearance.
Happiness like hurricanes.
Every feeling.
Unending experience.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
chest lifting with breaths
eyes and brows diagonal
mind clouding over
fists clenched and lightly trembling
blood rising up through the skin
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
I wail and scream and cry
my fists pounding against His chest
in rhythm with the nails in His hands
“Why. Why. I don’t understand”
My heart is breaking
My skin is sweating
My body is shaking
My fists are pounding
*I am broken
I am angry*
I feel Him start to move.
I see His hand reach out
and I prepare to be slapped.
But He moves some hair
that had fallen in my eyes
behind my ear.
He wraps His arms tightly around me.
Never letting go.
My pounding slows.
My shaking fades.
And I look up in shock
as I feel a teardrop on my nose.
I see water pouring from His eyes
as He weeps over my pain.
My heart begins to mend.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
As I've seen
In this world, which I'm just passing through;
Men with closed fist's, hitting other men with closed fist's.........
As tis they start war's,
That never end........
Not realizing in their moment of closed fist's.....................
That love is the answer..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC