"brawls" poems
All these kids,
They cry,
Scream,
And *****
"I WANT FREEDOM FROM MY PARENTS!"
That simple freedom does not concern me.
I want freedom, but not just from my parents so I can stay out late.
I want freedom,
From my peers,
From my family,
From the government,
And from myself.
I want to be free to walk down the halls,
Hand in hand with a girl,
Who I'm in love with.
I want to be able to do that,
With no fear in my heart.
No worries or names called,
Or punches thrown.
I want that freedom.
I want the freedom to be able to bring a girl home,
And show her to my parents,
And tell her how much I love her,
In front of them.
I want to be able to talk to my mom,
About relationship problems,
About the GIRL who broke my heart,
But I cant.
I want the freedom to marry.
To marry any person I choose,
No matter the gender.
Male,
Or female,
It should not matter.
My happiness,
And the way I spend my life,
Is not something that should be voted on,
By those with half a brain.
I want freedom from myself,
To accept me,
And be who I am,
Without any shame.
But I can't do that,
Unless I have the freedom from others,
To be me,
And be happy with that.
I want the freedom to be gay.
Some may complain,
That the gays are already free,
Too much maybe.
But that is not the case.
We're not persecuted,
But we're not free.
All throughout history there has been movements for freedom.
There was one of religious freedom,
When puritans came to the New World from Britain.
A war was started,
And freedom came out with a victory.
There was one of freedom for slaves,
So that they could live the lives they wanted,
And not have to be owned,
And treated like property,
By another human being.
Once again,
A war was started,
And the slaves were freed.
There was one of freedom for women,
So that women could be the same as men,
Equals.
There were marches,
And protests,
And women rights came out on top.
There was one of freedom for those of color,
So that they can mix,
And mingle,
With the race that whites thought was superior.
There were marches,
And sit ins,
Protests,
And brawls,
But guess who won in the end?
We are working towards freedom of LGBTQ,
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning/queer,
And one way or another,
We will eventually get our freedom.
Look at all these past freedom movements,
There were always two sides to it.
Which side are you on?
Is it the right one?
This is not the land of the free and the home of the brave.
This is the land of the *** ******* cowards,
And the home of the "You can be free, if we allow it."
I think its about time we either lived up to our motto,
Or changed it.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
I forgive you
Yet not forget
The bluish hue
With a scarlet
Tinge on my cheek...
Your abusive taunts
Endlessly woven lies
Alcoholic brawls
The redness of eyes
Glaring at me
With naked dislike
Of me and my family
And all my tribe...
Yet I always pardon
As this is a **** curse
Bestowed upon
Me for using your purse
To meet my needs
How can I forget
Those early deeds
My wants were met
With your toil n sweat...
I truly forgive you
As you earned fame
Women too came to woo
Without any **** shame
Threw themselves at you
For wealth and name
Success in your head
Women by your side
Your drinking was raised
As guilt made you hide
Behind the glass and smoke
You made your life a living joke...
Forgiving I have to be
For when you compare
Those beauties to met
I am just dumb and fair
With a plain Jane face
And meagre background
Who brings you disgrace
To those who surround
You and your basking glory
Yet I belong to your days of penury...
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
The door to your heart is a horrifying puzzle
Your Jigsaw pattern I can't put together
The pieces I hold don't correspond
So I take parts from you
Which is making me Leatherface
And giving you a flatter taste
And the ****** chain I saw placed
Was pressed to your door with haste
You're a killer doll like Chucky
How could I have been so unlucky?
I can't even cut through your curtains
I become a cold corpse before the movie can start
Like a careless Jamie Lee Curtis
How long can such a curted courtship last?
Before I contrive the courage to crush
The Killer Croc in your rib cage
But the corrosive corrections officer
That is your puzzle piece door
Impedes all progress to your horror heart
Because the improper placement of pieces
Will make me think you're The Witch
When you tell me Don't Breathe
As my theater's lights dim
I scramble for an exit
But my only escape from the cinema is through your door
I grow cynically situated to the pitch black pictures
How could I expect to solve the riddle
Now that I need to?
Doors that can't be opened are walls
Speaking softly turns to brawls
As your pieces scattered like change
Your door completely wrapped in chains
I feel stupid and ashamed
Your puzzled movie's to blame
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
High in the sky
The castle stands strong
Each grain packed together with trust
That they may never separate from each other
The rooms fill with the laughter of a young lady
His hand graze each corner as he follows the familiar scent of his love
He wraps his arms around her waist and breaths in home
She nestles deeper into strong arms
Grey clouds in the sky
The castles stands strong
Sturdy walls stand on a solid promise
To never let go of one another
He paces from one room to another raging in silence
She sits on the edge of her bed with her head held low
He wants revenge for hurt
Sun in the sky
The castle stands strong
Clear windows look out into a bright future
Of a happy life together
Hand in hand they dance through their dreams of solitude
She looks deep in his eyes and sees his soul
He looks deep in her eyes and sees her heart
Stars in the sky
The castle stands strong
Gold ceilings as high as the queens expectations
No one could reach any higher
He hangs from the chandelier to her every word
She wants more than she deserves
The castle is not big enough for their love
Thunder and lightning rip through the sky
Tearing through the sturdy walls
A chilling wind cracking the once clear windows
Piece by piece each grain falls
It crumbles at their feet
Amongst their unforgivable brawls
The castle is only made of sand
It no longer stands tall
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Seriously, Guys!
This is what I don't
I can't buy.
Like dogs, why do we fight?
When we can be kind and care
Why are people's souls filled with spite?
When love can fill the air
We are all originally
Simple Human Beings
We all have feelings
Feelings.
That one special gift God has bestowed upon us Graciously
That one special gift that separates that Monkey and Me
But are we
Being the good humans
We're expected to be
Are we,
To put it simply,
Being Human
Because, if we're not then...
We should Learn
If not
We'll never yearn
To
Be
Human
Open our eyes, ears
Hearts and Souls
To learn
To
Be
Human
Because we are Human,
Truly.
So we should be,
Obviously.
And write our own destiny
When our inner realization sparks
We would know in our hearts
That we've made a mistake
We would know that
HEY!
Why did we discriminate?
Why did we constantly hate?
When we all have blood of red
Which we often forget
When we all have two eyes
A mouth
And two ears
When, we humans, all
Have the capacity to fill oceans,
Lakes and streams
With our innocent tears
So
Step by Step
Hand in Hand
Let's all take a firm stand
To bring back
To rekindle
Our Beautiful World
When Humanity is Lost
We would not recover
We would not be able bear the price, the cost
When Love is over.
Lost with pointless
Battles and Wars
Lost due to endless
Violence and Brawls
There would be no return
So we should learn
Once again
To
Be
Human.
© SHREYA DRISTI
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
When I was a child,
I was given a silver necklace by my father,
Told the stories of how it was there when he met my mother
And cherished it dearly.
But as childhood would have it,
I lost the necklace,
In a full contact game of two-hand touch football,
In the backyard of my frenemy neighbor.
I searched for hours in the grass,
Coming across spiders, quarters
The remnants of dog’s passed,
But never again saw the silver chain
With the little cross
That was the closest thing I ever held to God.
Now I look back,
To the necklace, the touch football games
The neighborhood loving brawls,
And realize youth is an object,
It’s something we hold close
But never realize the importance of
Until years later,
When we miss it
Around our necks,
And we regret
Never truly
Falling in love
With what we had
Before it was gone.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
Work is boring, I'd
Rather be home sleeping in
A nice comfy bed
Work is boring, I'd
Rather be smoking a joint
And watching TV
Work is boring, I'd
Rather be drinking a beer
And drunk barroom brawls
Work is boring, I'd
Rather be out surfing the
Gnarly ocean waves
Work is boring, I'd
Rather stick my arm in a
Blender; cause some fun
Work is boring, I'd
Rather be out banging some
Coked up prostitutes
Work is boring, I'd
Rather dig my brain out thru my
My ears with a fork
Work is boring, you
Can tell because I'm writing
Too many haikus
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
"I want to be a boxer" he said
Stomping his foot, his face red.
Angry at God for not making it happen
Now! Before his resolve does slacken
"I've got the skills for it." he whines
He neglects his practice half the time
He doesn't realise, it seems,
The difference between a hobby and a dream
"I've won many a fight!" he shouts
Those brawls with friends don't really count.
He did once won the junior championship
And into each conversation, he lets that slip.
"I can make it!" he says, His gloats, incessant
His actions, childish, His views, arrogant.
“Life’s so unfair!” he always cries
Though with all his heart, he never tries
He’s chasing the rush of winning a battle
But at the thought of war, his courage rattles
“If only I could follow my dream…” he muses
One day perhaps he’ll run out of excuses
His wistful eyes gaze at boxing rings,
Lost in the visions of glory they bring.
“It’s my calling.” He brags, unable to see
The clear path leading him to his “destiny”
On self -made hurdles, he always trips.
It seems on reality he’s losing his grip.
In this mind, there is ample confusion
On the difference between a dream and delusion
As time passes, one day it’ll be clear
That all that stopped him was his own fear
But until then, he lets the truth be unheard
For isn’t it easier to keep blaming the world?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Lights! Evergreen! Action! Have you ever heard of the feast of fools? Plunging into pleasures takes the stage!Welcome to the Saturnalia! The setting takes place in ancient Rome, Emperors rule and slaves usually bow but not on this solstice festival. Backwards is the trend and nothing is forbidden it is a drunken wild revel! No rules no laws! Children become the authority taking part in drunken brawls! Yule logs burn and mistletoe hangs from the tops of each doorway. Streams of evergreen decorate the home as a lit up tree stands alone all are home as business is closed for the five day party. Slaves gamble and cheat and rule their masters! Unrule is the slogan and *** the master in public displays of unholy affection! No recognition of marriage for sin is the law, the anticipation of the Saturnalia! A two faced pagan mythical god is to whom they give their allegiance.
Sadly today, not much has changed, only the name of the public acceptance. It now lasts far longer than five days so as to add to the excitement of the masses. Traditions remain alot the same; more suicides occur on the winter solstice. More drunken bouts, more placed in prison for truly unruly behavior. Yet Christian is the title as it masks the scene, with a portrait of a nativity, desperately trying to mask the desires of the popularity at such a sinful occasion. It's all an attempt to make what is obscene okay in the eyes of their Maker.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
The King of Kings,
That's what he is called.
He made big empires
And won all his brawls.
His mighty strength
Could change the epics
In all the directions
Were his relics .
His pride was too much high ,
To be conquered by anyone .
His empire was in his warmth ,
As he was their rising Sun.
In the cry of battle hours,
He crushed all his enemies .
He was truthful and loyal,
But was unaware of his frenemies .
The person he trusted most ,
Gave him an unhealable scar.
No one else than his own brother,
Told him everything is fair in love and war.
In the jail he decided not to mourn.
He was strong willed and stubborn.
He told himself, He will rise high
Because no one can stop the rising sun.
He is the true king of kings ,
Lost All, but not the hope
His determination, will and
Strength marked no stop .
He took a deep breath;
So long that a decade passed.
He returned to silent wrath inside,
To claim the all that honour lost.
He showed them all,
Of what he is made.
Fought and conquered
With the power of blade
Again he proved it;
And returned to throne.
Determination, Morality and hope,
Are a King's real Crown.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
i can't stand all the lying society does
and all the while they do it just because
the words they say just to fit in
little do they know my patience is wearing thin
i think that they're all egotistical,
their stupidity has become a ritual
maybe if they opened their eyes
they to would be surprised
they got so caught up in life
yet their actions were in strife
balling my fist as they attack my flaws
that's fine by me because i can fight my own brawls
because i realize they have people pressuring them
and all the while just to fit in.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
You are as confident as broken nails
and as filthy as a rodent smells.
You're like infidels in cheap hotels
where prostitutes have body sales.
This guilt was berthed when your stomach fell
forever deep into an endless well.
This is as tragic as a soiled veil
as you've become an empty shell.
Cigarette smoke climbs the walls,
but broken alarms sound muted calls.
Out here, there are countless brawls.
Your city sleeps; our city crawls.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 1:37 PM UTC
Reality was bereft
As your head,
Caresses the pillow
A night deft.
As I hear the crickets
Lagging behind, I
With you on the way
To dreamland with a ticket.
Don the Hatter's Hat
In Alice's Wonderland.
As we sip tea
With Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat.
Be large or be small
Eating chocolates
And muffins
Down the rabbit hole.
A carpet of wings
We fly over
The Caspian, The Aegean
To where the Siren sings.
Three headed dog is yours
A gargoyle, mine.
Little pets we walk
Down Tartarus's corridors .
Europe behind, we face
South West
To the land of Mayans
And folk of a mystical race.
We play war chief,
Play in our blue tepee
Flying on the backs
Of eagles as they screech.
You dance around
My fire
Gyrating in that form
Bringing rain down.
Purple Rider
On a wind maned horse
Black One on a
Golden strider.
Barfights and shootouts
Brawls and scuffles
You gained a puffy eye
While I broke my stout.
Seeking a view
We jumped from
Skyscraper to skyscraper
Old and new.
Jumped from hills
Into rivers
Spoke to the wild
For time to ****
Wary of the time
We take flight
Off the Everest
We just climbed.
Down and down
Into a sea
Coloured silver
Bubbly diamonds all around.
No lack of gas,
You put swimming to the test
Tripped on a rock
A jellyfish attacks!
Boom and Pow
Wham, slam and
A big crunch
Little jellyfish said ow!
Get stuck in traffic
Office hours
We suppose
As the birds swam chaotic.
We're here!
Portal to reality
Now exposed
By now the dream was dear.
Maybe now you can't see
But we will,
The sun rise,
From the bottom of the sea.
So we wait
As the sea turned
Silver to fire
A nice first date.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
Snags in her tights,
Chipped black on her claws,
She stands against walls,
Vulnerable to the brawls.
A skirt grazing her thighs,
Too small for her liking,
She pulls at the seems,
And feeds the old men lies.
Lips that bleed,
Mascara stained cheek,
Frame too slim,
She's in the gutter, sensual and meek.
Lady of the night,
Rolls to your car,
beckons you with her finger,
hopes you won't linger.
A ten note slips,
Into her grip.
She squeezes.
It will feed her addiction.
She has money to pay,
Children to feed,
She digs her knuckles so much they bleed.
Life carries by,
As she tries to get high,
On the fumes of other men.
But the red light comes on,
Her skirt hitches up,
She cries as he whispers
good girl.
As he kisses her neck,
She thinks what the heck
Am I doing with my **** awful life,
Selling cheap love,
To father above,
In hope she gets a better price
than the tiny sum
From every business bloke that comes, beckons her into his arms.
She pulls at her pleather,
At her last tether,
Why am I in this life?
Soho's her home,
But it leaves her numb to the bone.
She has more than budget passion,
She craves style,
She fashion.
But instead the needle pierces,
And she sinks down,
Hating the body she's in,
Women walk and they frown,
But they don't understand how the girl feels deep down,
She just wants true love.
Oh heaven above?
If there is a Holy Spirit,
Let me be it,
For this withered young **********
Belongs in your constitute,
Please, she begs, save me from the charity brutes.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
That ******
Cicada.
She won’t let me sleep.
She won’t let me sleep!
Won’t let me sleep –
When I’ve worked my shift,
I’ve paid my rent,
I’ve fluffed my pillow.
Won’t let me sleep –
In between harassment,
In between the bill collectors,
The brawls and the ********
Won’t let me sleep –
When people fail,
When bombs fall
And children perish elsewhere.
She won’t let me sleep.
She won’t let me sleep!
That ******
Cicada.
She won’t let me sleep.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Our good friend gravity never lets us down
He helps us onto the sidewalks when we're walking the town
He helps us into the water when we're taking a swim
He helps us stay on the floor where we twirl and spin
He'll aid us as we're standing so we won't fall off of the floor
He'll aid us as we're jumping so we'll always fall back for more
He aids us in our brawls
So that our fists are sure to fall
He aids us in our slumber
so that we'll stay in bed together
But what if gravity left for a while,
And left us to figure out what's up and down
Strolling through the town in the sky
Not the ground
Taking a dive
and ending up in the sky
Dancing on ceilings and walls
And standing on the floor when you suddenly fall
Jumping up and not coming back to the ground
Gravity has let me down
and up you'd gone
Up to heaven
Up to home
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
through the silence of the dawn of light,
through the silence of the sun set at night,
through the silence all through the halls,
through the silence befalls peace to settle temporary brawls,
silence everywhere, quieting all
through the silence comes peace of mind,
through the silence we rest as one of mankind,
through the silence comes great inventions,
through the silence we release past tensions,
silence everywhere, quieting all
through the silence leaves not one voice to be heard,
through the silence blurred between the lines of the absolutely absurd,
through the silence one's thoughts might go wild,
through the silence past deviance's can be reconciled,
silence everywhere, quieting all
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
There’s a superhero protecting the city,
And when the sun goes down he fights
To keep his friends and family safe
On treacherous, deadly nights.
He uses his marvelous super strength
For lots of things, it‘s quite practical.
And he uses invisibility
To be supremely sneaky and tactical.
Each and every night he goes to stop
Bad people from doing bad things
The city loves their superhero,
And treat him as their king.
They know him well and they can tell
That he’ll always treat them with care
They know they can call at any time,
And that the hero will always be there.
But many long and sleepless nights
Begin to take their toll.
The hero’s getting tired
Night after night on patrol.
And the battles fought aren’t easily won,
The hero’s decorated with scars
From poison darts, and fisticuffs,
Falling from buildings onto cars.
But no one else can protect the people
Whom the hero love so dear,
So the hero cannot take a break,
Not one day off because he fears
That as soon as he’s gone the baddies will come
And wreak havoc on his friends
And the hero cannot allow that to happen;
He could never make amends.
Though he’s growing quite weary, the hero keeps fighting
Because that’s the way heroes are wired.
But his strength doesn’t work like it used to,
And his invisibility tends to backfire.
His strength only works around other people,
He grows weak as soon as they’re gone.
He’s invisible almost all of the time,
So people can’t see something’s wrong.
It’s now to the point where the hero dreads
The sun sinking into the west
Because he knows that once the sun goes down,
He’ll be put to the test.
He’s so tired and weak and he’s ready to quit
But he knows he must go out again.
Isn’t protecting the city week after week
Worth any amount of pain?
He’s reluctant to go out, and almost dares to do evil,
To show that he’s in control.
But he knows he never will, his reputation’s at stake,
And he prepares to go out on patrol.
The city is asking to be saved once again.
And he cries as the sky turns red,
Maybe the city won’t expect to be saved
If the hero himself is dead.
For the hero feels so very alone.
He knows he can’t go on forever.
How many more super villains and monsters,
He asks, can this poor hero weather?
The hero knows that he can’t go much longer,
That he only has a little while
Before the people figure out he’s hurt
But for now he saves with a smile.
Though his bones are weak, and his skin is bruised,
Off to save the city once more, he goes.
He’s pushing himself far past his limit
As he brawls ‘gainst countless foes.
He wants to keep his people safe,
Though he may be going to his grave.
For no one ever taught this hero
To save others, first himself he has to save.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 5:03 AM UTC
I wake day after day with the same lingering dismay of what my life has become & of what is supposedly my fate
synthetic happiness works no longer
& I find the craving for death inside me growing stronger
old habits come again disguised as friends that like me better in cardigans that never let my scars show
this might all go away, maybe after one more blow?
songs and trees and mysteries are not enough to keep me intrigued and the bridge I walk by everyday is so appealing to take a leap and end it once & for all
The idea of living much longer makes my skin crawl
& so I am restless and I get into brawls & succumb to my sadness as it became my downfall
I can never quench it for I don’t have the gall as I hit my head against the wall
Artificial honey used to do the trick you see
a simple lick made me forget my misery
even though it sometimes made me jittery
it was also my only escape
It is my high and it leads me to my low but who cares! The tears always flow
wether I’m joyful or filled with woe
this illness sits on my shoulder like a crow
& I have to accept that I am shackled and it truly has me baffled that I can only set myself free by slitting my wrists or drowning in a sea.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
I Seldom express my emotions and
I wrote this for the Ngudu's to marvel and
For paps's and mama's heart to console
Though words describe, portray
And say a lot about a person
You are not just any person
Through the 18 years of loud mouth cursing
The raucous in the early morning
Shady and unpredictable plots
Being mischievous and devious
Being revengeful then forgetful
Disapprovals leading to arguments
The cause of the damaged Stellenbosch walls
Were the ceaseless and reneged brawls
Through the 18 years of living
I feel like I have failed
Failed to sum up the words that match you
Having them convey and having people understand you
But I feel the words do not get you
Like a lot of people that do not get you
If you knew him the way I do
The marvel of being a Ngudu
The marvel of knowing him like I do
Lightened my shoulders
You lightened my darkness
I love you very much like Maya Angelou loves her brother Bailey
Not only is he the Head Boy
The light skinned of the family
Nor the pretty boy of the family by default
He is a Master before kings
The doctors verified it on the birth certificate before Qamani
Rightfully on his high horse being all high and mighty
He is my inspiration
He is my motivation
The very reason behind my episodes of satisfaction
He is the Kid to the Son
He is Qamani Kideo Ngudu
My twin brother
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 5:41 AM UTC
*Normally I would be the one with football in hand,
Sitting there drinking cheap beer, no time for "tuna,"
That's for gays. I would be looking for "man to man,"
Bro brawls, fights, boxing, As well as midnight runs
To the donut store to rob them blind of jelly rolls.
I would go about as if it were you who was "full of holes."*
But around the corner I can still be seen, eyes fixed
On the piano of my dreams, looking for something soft
I can play...who am I? I'm most certainly "GAY."
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
Whenever I walk out the door,
I don't see people anymore
I don't see kindness I don't see love
I may not see much but I see enough
All I see is snakes and spiders
Spitting venom at the things that divide us
Holding power and mocking those powerless
Rather than focus on what unites us
Now it's time to rise up
Defend yourself against the venomous
They may be deadly and corrupt
But it's you and me that can make them stop!
The venom courses through my veins
No antidote for these aches and pains
If you want them to stop then make them stop
Prove to them you've had enough
The venom courses through my veins
Every day it's all the same
They all pretend it's just a game
When they label you with those names
Prove to them you've had enough
Prove to them you've had enough
Prove to them you've had enough
Prove to them you've had enough
Crawling up and down the streets
Not-so-secret brawls in back alleys
They can knock you off your feet
But you must never admit defeat
All have my empathy
All have my sympathy
You know that it's your destiny
To show them what lies underneath
Never admit defeat
The venom courses through my veins
No antidote for these aches and pains
If you want them to stop then make them stop
Prove to them you've had enough
The venom courses through my veins
Every day it's all the same
They all pretend it's just a game
When they label you with those names
Prove to them you've had enough
Rise Up! Rise Up!
Prove to them you've had enough
Rise Up! Rise Up!
Prove to them you've had enough
Rise Up! Rise Up!
Prove to them you've had enough
Rise Up! Rise Up!
*Rise up, never admit defeat
You have what it takes underneath
Can't you feel your heart beat?
You can stop it, you will see....*
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Night, the oldest of mysteries
settles, spreading like hunger.
A pall of mist
shrouding over the world.
Siren sounds and firefighters,
drunken brawls, and
receding beats.
Eyes of wonder asleep,
emerging out of
the network of shadows
growing creeper-like.
Stray nuggets of light
also reach the eyes shut
in meditation.
Furtive shadows of passion,
elsewhere. Muffled joys;
Shades of bottle-grey.
Cricket-song. Ululations
faint. Raspy owl-calls,
intermittent.
In the deep, secret
rites of initiation.
Somewhere in the far
highlands
the stars and
the broken moon peep in.
Old song on a highway truck.
Little lamps adorning the hills,
courtyards in the distance.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
I think back to 5 years ago,
To those days in northern New York,
Where my life felt like some coming-of-age tale,
Coming into my own.
Each day was its own chapter,
Shenanigans and hijinks,
Bar room brawls and short-lived loves,
Drunken tattoos and crutching on snow 2 feet deep,
Barracks parties and field exercise tomfoolery,
Oh, how it all seems like such a dream now.
Fleeing from authorities,
Cackling with buddies as we disappeared into the crowd to make it to the next bar,
Showing up to work on Monday with a recently broken nose, blackened eye, and shit-eating grin,
With my buddies sporting similar signs,
Our First Sergeant taking stock of these injuries,
And walking onward with a little smirk.
Walking through Watertown,
Feeling the age of that military town,
Filled with secondhand stores and oddities,
My God such a surreal dream.
Stuck in bed,
Knee wrapped up in bandages,
Protecting all the stitches beneath,
Looking out the winter at the blizzard outside,
Craving a working leg more than the percocet,
And knowing that the dream was coming to an end.
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 12:40 AM UTC
Referees mismanage oversight
incorrect calls lower credibility
faith in justice dissolves into the ice
agency is taken into padded hands
vigilantes slash and spear.
Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check
malignant hostility boils over
leather armor is removed
interphalangeal joints meet mandible
type O negative paints a jersey
haymakers take bizarre trajectories
to avoid helmets and visors
the face is homebase to ingrain pain.
Violence subverts gamesmanship
players must be taken off ice
to be put on ice
otherwise brawls become overabundant
and destroy the integrity of the sport
yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying
—considering the context—
so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future
we organize an impenetrable perimeter
once we've acclimated to penalty kills.
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 4:01 PM UTC