"bruiser" poems
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph,
Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path,
Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal,
Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal,
Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps,
Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps,
From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman,
You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen.
I broke me chains,some say I went insane,
But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain.
be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight,
A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light,
The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter,
We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered,
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude.
It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready,
Battling me is futile keep your hands steady,
I’m no pacifist,and if you take the ****
I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk,
That’s a grave warning,-global warming,
The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy…
Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin ****
That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists,
The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling,
Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin,
from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin,
Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin'
Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist
E.C’s BRUISER.
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Byron and I play
The All Topics Open.
Eighteen holes
Invariably draws nostalgic.
Byron mentioned he went to the WWF in Detroit.
I sliced into a childhood memory
Of midgets at Cobo Hall:
Cobo Hall, Saturday Night. Be there!
Byron started pitching old wrestlers and holds:
Leaping Larry Shane, great with the Anaconda Vice;
Killer Kowalski vs. Bobo Brazil, pinned by the Crucifix and Abdominal Stretch;
**** the Bruiser* tagging with The Sheik
To defeat Gorgeous George and Crybaby McCarthy.
Byron went on in detail, with tabernacle authority:
“It was a Bear Hug that quickly swung in to a Quarter,
then Half,
then Full Nelson;
Crybaby bounced off a knee,
Was driven to the mat and pinned
By a Front Sleeper.”
(Jimmy's newborn picture faded in,
and the pose he naturally struck
baby arms
cocked like a sideshow muscle man
Daddy quipped: **** the Bruiser*.
I was Leaping Larry Shane.
Daddy quipped: Larry the Stooge.
I didn't see that move)
Byron was intense. I could hear, but
I was zoning.
Crybaby and Front Sleeper dazed me.
How time Venns.
I was pinned today.
I recognized the feeling.
Tagged, then pinned by
The inescapable
Baby Nelson.
You know the hold.
On your back.
Baby on chest, face down.
Pinned.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
i’m a bad baby, a wet pussycat
that does a whole lot of meowing
nobody left to blame, a goodbye loser
love me, hate me, be my bruiser
classy lady, i’m unruly you can tie me
up and school me just don’t try to save me
and i parted ways with bad friends
if tomorrow comes then what’s good
don’t be afraid to laugh at my expense
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
Writing has become my voice and way to express myself lots of personal growth. I learned to communicate treat others right. I'm very hard working determined but I've crossed paths with people who had more going on but ungrateful. I have to work for mine give my all do twice as much to get by.
I've been freed from all the hurt and the vicious death grip. A failed relationship that bruiser my ego but it happened so I can grow. I was too stubborn to change because I don't like change. I had a go no where job I love but crossing paths with a lazy coworker would become a conflict of interest. I was beaten up and fired for calling this out on their laziness. Like I said I worked for mine why is this person getting paid to do nothing. Iasked "why me" a good friend would say "why not you are meant for something great."
I held onto this doubt and what I felt not one who likes change but able to adjust and adapt to change.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
Yesterday was a bruiser
Today’s real contrary
Tomorrow’s undecided
But I’m remaining wary
Dec 4, 2021
Dec 4, 2021 at 3:41 PM UTC
A truce was declared last night
we all saw a remarkable sight
the dogged bruiser sleeping sweet
then rubbing all around my feet
his eyes were saying come on mate
no stared disdain, no smoldering hate
so carefully I lifted Haggis
scared he might take it amiss
I wanted so long, I did it at last
I cuddles Haggis the King of the Cats!
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 1:06 AM UTC
outside,
the world is doused in
gold light.
the woman across the street
prunes her roses.
three hipsters
giggle
on the porch next door.
a mangy black cat prowls
the street, mistaking
the twinkle of wind chimes
for a nest of chirping birds.
inside,
bruiser and i are
still. (what does
a tornado look like?
what does it
feel like?
it feels like
waiting.)
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
I’m Medusa, yes Medusa
Not long life that was Methuselah
Vile violent visage I am the muse for
Gorgon legend is my future
I’m abused and an abuser
I am used and I’m a user
Magnet to so many suitors
Once a beauty now a bruiser
Myth: Just deserts for killer cougar
Truth: ***** then accused as a seducer
Athene was my disapprover
Sisterhood is just a rumour
Hair curled tight it can’t get smoother
Locks they’re snakes crawled from a sewer
Lovers now they’re getting fewer
Call me mad it’s only lunar
Perseus my persecutor
In slaying Titans he’d been tutored
He is blessed, I’m outmanoeuvred
My death births Pegasus the wing’d hoofer
Seem to have lost my sense of humour
Need more than a troubleshooter
Temperature has just got cooler
Turn to stone you’re such a loser
anna jones ©2017
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
Love the name.
Got upset
When the man called out, Seen.
Stupid man.
It's Sean, and not Shawn.
A year older than Gerald.
Two younger than Kevin.
Two older than me.
That's Sean.
Daddy wrote home about us.
Maura was working at the hospital.
Sheila was finishing highschool.
Kevin won the Science Fair.
Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars,
All over Canada and the U.S.
I found the letter, penned in '62,
A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same.
I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling;
With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout.
The last page was missing,
Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene.
Gerald with his Beetles haircut.
Me, mimicking ( probably mocking),
Some unknown priest, to my father's delight;
Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked
Away from home.
Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet.
The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada.
I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's.
There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia.
He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here,
And our proximity to the North Pole.
Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists;
The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration.
Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted.
Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues,
And a large S, his Senior Letter.
He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and, smelled
as good as he looked,
The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool.
Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others.
A heart of tears.
A spirit of adventure.
I love Sean, I recall.
He is always welcome here.
Drops by sometimes.
It's always a great surprise.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
I had
a knife to my neck for breakfast
a punch with a crunch for lunch
but I ate ***** looks for dinner
thats how I knew
I was the winner
and when I went up for dessert
never once did they see me hurt
thats how they knew I was a bruiser
and they were backing a loser
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
From last night's wine
From the bruiser of a woman
Who challenged me
With insecurities so well-packed away
That she actually thinks she is in control!!!!!!
From the unfulfilling patience
Of an unfulfilled love
Of an absent lover
I'm so tired I accidentally left my dog locked outside all day.
(Good thing he's so good-natured.)
I can stand to learn from his forgiving nature.
I think I'll go now.
I have some grumbling to do.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 7:43 PM UTC
Still puffin' cigars in my sixty six jaguar
Made a hood star from climbing a far
**** the drug games I made my name
Through lyrics of pain easing ya migraine
Words pure as Columbian *******
That's means you'll go insane
Tryna hang with the dark Knight Bruce Wayne
Which means ya mentallydrained going
derange
My smiff n wesson lays a nice range
From the Midwest to the south of Central Texas
Get love from my barrio we stay thorough
Haters get marked like zorro so follow
The leader beat pleaser turn ebenenzer
Once I spit vocals take over ya locals
Can't Max me out my own **** hardest to hit
Ya swear it's back in the year of nine six
Slammin' all of the these industry clowns like Jordans did the Knicks
A Timely essence
Even if I'm chillin' with the dead residence
you'll still feel my presence no hesitance
To foes stained ya calicos wake ya up with a cup of
Flow
and I stay smokin' girls ******* holes setting fires to their mentals
My flows set on auto pilot causing riots
Baltimore rage untamed had to put my rhymes in a cage
Seen the guage
Cocked back ain't no taking away from that
Deaths in progress only blessing you seen
Is stress so take another hit of cannabis
Before you enter the eternal abyss hang ya body over the
cliff
Like Big Red record every word I said
And still can't get a word to the feds I'm the black
Hoover
got flats from Houston to Vancouver
Let me show ya who's the real bruiser
Spittin' rhymes that lay more bodies than Fallujah
Cruise right through
tha
My rhymes is tank shootin' missles with no
thanks
I'm only here to live out
My fathers prank
Though the devil keep me above all levels
Tryna stay from the goods I was made rebel
Fools thought they was Cain til they found out I was
abel
Killin' em with microphone cordless cables and
turntables
Read between my eyers n you'll see visions of many
halos
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 8:01 PM UTC
judge me how you / miss the crap I / used to bruiser brigade / a caffeine soul / a caffeine prison / a caffeine soul / a caffeine prison /
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
Cruzers , bruiser's The Antilosers ,
We roll proud when our music's up loud,
We be true and we see just right through,
To be the boo you must know the crew. We bust we trust and we Don't need no dust.
Your'e dirt you hurt I won't wear you're shirt!
thanks for the neckless but boy I am wreckless
Far from a test guess Hot in the best dress.
don't rank me less or think I'm some mess
Just don't need stress or you on my chess..
won't play this game You're not gettin fame, don't claim my name cuz boy you're just lame!
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
This one is for the bullies.
This one is for the cruel.
Try harder.
Because these walls were made with the intent
of keeping you out and instead
kept out the rescue party.
Too many are the tears which we have shed
over being too fat or too thin
or any other of these thousands of things within us
that define us as imperfect.
This one is for those that kicked us while we were down,
for the class clown addicted to our embarrasment,
to the flicked pencil that hits our back as we pass them.
If you've ever felt scorn,
if you've ever felt torn between the greatest two evils,
if you've ever as a kid felt that primeval urge of fight or flight
or spent a night crying over your bathroom sink,
It's okay.
I'm not saying that as if I could ever
make you feel as if that pain living inside of you
will abstain from your mind.
I'm saying that you aren't alone.
Simply let it be known how you feel
and you will real impressed
by how many others have felt the same.
This is one is for the playground bruiser, try harder.
This is for the girl writing 'slut' on her locker, try harder.
This is for those that will always insist
on testing the waters of an uncalm mind,
TRY HARDER.
Because it's never been an issue
of being smarter or stronger.
It's been about you holding on this extra while longer,
long enough that you can put all this behind you.
For all the gossips who acted like they knew you, try harder!
Because this time they are not getting through.
Concede to them nothing,
abandon no friend or creed,
let not their need for acceptance give lead to your self-loathing.
Remember, it is not your clothing or your skin that incurs their hate,
do not lock your gate to those who would help you.
The shallow brook runs the loudest,
the wounded dignitary the proudest
and so long as we allow them to hurt us
they'll believe they can get away with it.
We are many,
united in the trials through which we have grown.
Let us stand together now
and not any among us stand alone.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC
Sadistic Queen,
how are you so mean?
Your punches are subtle,
but leave me with internal bleeding.
I love the way it stings.
Bring me another poisoned fruit from your tree.
Make my stomach ball tighter than a white-knuckled fist.
Hit me again,
you beautiful bruiser.
I've never before felt a pain such as this.
You are a masochist's wet dream.
Take one step closer and I swear, I'll scream.
****** ****** doesn't even hold a candle
to this twisted, grisly, nightmarish scene.
It's almost more than I can handle.
Stop it.
Stop it!
You're hurting me!
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
Right after my name,
There is a year there, the year of my birth, the year I have no memory of, the year that I was born,
Its there, signifying my entrance into this world
My spectacular entrance as a third child, born to a third child,
Destined to be without a destination,
That mighty bruiser who cries and whimpers, but will grow to be
No more afraid or chilled or concerted than the man
Who has little emotion, and can feel those things around him
As everyone does, but different in the way, that blue smells good
And bread blows yellow across the window,
To finding that the greatest salt earth driven thing
Is the love that one can feel, but not touch.
Tell me of this work, these years all past and past again,
Seeing those people around that aren't around anymore,
And figuring out that my life, when figured on a mathmatical basis
Is more than half way gone, no three quarters gone.
All this ****** work, and knowledge and love and hate,
And covering it up to be something, I know I am not,
All but the dash. Look, it is there, on this page of poetry,
On these words that so simply tell me or tell you what is,
And there is that despicable dash, that will show two centuries,
Two hundred years to choose from, this dash shall be in collection
Of those years.
Leave it blank.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
(alternately titled: Zayda born April 9th, 1929)
e'er since his birth,
his daring do didst not abate
the penultimate most spectacular
concrete incontestable product
constituting biological offspring
developing, fashioning,
and incubating gene nee us,
he unwittingly didst create
encoded whence he got conceived
approximately begat circa
July nineteen twenty eight,
and hence upon April ninth
two thousand and eighteen
cometh denoting exceptional great
ness among kith and kin innate
awareness to take stock and celebrate,
how a series of fortunate events
commencing with a date
to Harriet Kuritsky
(at that time, yet to pledge her troth)
accepting storied handsome fellow,
whose constitution sturdy as "forest" timber
(definition of groom) to be lawfully wedded wife...
until death do them part)
unwittingly marriage didst emancipate
my mother, who met a awful, cruel
and terminal undeserving fate,
which tortured demise, the grim reaper
gladly, gleefully, and glibly
held her steadfast
thru death decreed grate
a permanent life sentence,
she vehemently did hate
and fiercely fought tooth and nail
(unimaginable to me,
thee sole son), how
agonizingly bitterly clearly irate
such suffering wrenched, wrought, wrung
August marriage permanently
cleft by malicious, nefarious,
and opprobrious tongue
no heroic measures,
only lamentation slung
upon the livingsocial clinging,
where grief rung
every last ounce,
though thru each passing year
thy mum gone thirteen orbitz
round the sun, that shear
ring raw emotion
still persists in concert with lear
ring grimace of deathly hallows, 'ere
obstinate heart ache lessened now
since papa found bliss
in which to steer the prow
of his four score and nine
aged ship of state row
wing (or more or less peacefully drifting)
berthed in consonant with vow
wills - a staunch spirit does wow!
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
Bennett
was a big boy
a bruiser to look at
but he was a ***** cat
once you got
to know him.
He loved history
like I did
and he sat
at the desk
in front of mine.
He was wide
so I couldn't see
past him
so had to look
over his shoulder
to see the board.
Bennett
Mr Finn said
where was
the Magna Carta signed?
At the bottom Sir
Bennett said.
Fits of laughter
and guffaws.
QUIET
Mr Finn shouted
I meant
where about
in England
was it signed
the teacher
stated firmly.
Runnymede Sir
Bennett said
reddening.
Anyone else
where is Runnymede?
Kids looked
at each other.
I put up my hand
(a rare occurrence).
Yes Coles?
Finn said
eyeing me.
Surrey Sir
I said.
Right who signed
the Magna Carta?
Finn asked
anyone except
Bennett?
King Henry VIII
said Dennis
wiping his finger
(snot green)
on his grey
trouser leg.
Finn shook his head
anyone else?
****** Mary
a girl sitting next
to Helen said.
Finn sighed
Coles?
King John Sir
I said
looking at
Bennett's back
broad as an oxen.
Correct
Finn said
and wrote it
on the board
with dates
and names
in white chalk.
There was silence
no murmuring
no grinning
no talk.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
Memories Toy Chest
Something most hold in common is the joy from a child's first toy
Marking time with bounces of a ball or combing a dolls hair, simple samples when life was still fair
Teddy bear on a tricycle towing a red wagon became a daily highlight for freckled faced boy
Sand box unifies the block, Tonka trucks take over, shovel & pail never fail, forming fundamental liaisons, fresh friends unknown to despair
Christmas tree bearing notions, free fodder for the toddler, tiny top fascinating for a tot older sibling needs a little more to not be a bore, each gift reveals internal joy
Crayons and coloring books fill a nook, many images and glimpses of our past, memories now memoirs, all of life's offerings nothing can compare
Focused on fledgling fiascos too more amorous teen things, flash before a crash, skateboard or Schwinn California cruiser either a bruiser when seeking search and destroy
Army men cheap to begin before g.i. Joe or barbies, cap gun for fun, noise for playing on the run, never standing still long enough to stare
Grandmas egg money the best for a stash of cash, bought candy or unknown present I would never resent, she was a kid at heart acting old merely her decoy
Glimpse through a child eyes, thought or flashback of childhood and early life, fishing pole or frisbee a cheap fee for a lifetime memory, simple sample of how we care
Lifes diary often leaves out those trifles that came for free, when we never feared a future unknown, nothing lost when not seen, a minds toy chest held close to the vest the items enclosed permanent parts of our history R.C.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
I’m moving through glue
Of life without you
In an adhesive zoo
Giving avian flu
So I can’t move
In this groove
Where I lose
To my muse
At your beck and call
My engine stalled
So I walk this hall
Free-for-all
Walking home
Is walking alone
Destination unknown
I’m a walking drone
I find a new car
But cannot go far
Once the oily tar
Creates prison bars
Cars have slammed
Causing traffic jams
Like the trap of man
Living hand in hand
Double barrel lies
Have me paralyzed
Scared to try
A stare at eyes
Satan’s will
Has my body still
Anxiety filled
Looking for a pill
The enemy
Is sending me
Messaging
Threatening
The once unbridled
Now sit idle
Using their title
To stop others’ vitals
This quicksand
Kicks the ******
Sickest man
So he can’t stand
Tires flattened
In sheets of satin
They start to fatten
Into General Patton
On a treadmill
Death hill
Where pests ****
My best skills
No detour
On this meat skewer
Where the elite lure
Those who are bluer
To be their bruiser
I find no leeway
On the freeway
Where speed craze
Gets greed praise
So the meek stay
In concede lanes
The gun toting
Fascist voting
Authority doting
Have me floating
When I should be boating
I challenge the world to a fight
And lose to my first opponent
Pathetically crying all night
I thought heart was a stronger component
I can’t stand minds
Of land mines
That span my
Whole **** life
The things I know
Create traffic cones
So I have nowhere to go
But low
I defy the slide
Stuck in the divide
I don’t want to glide
But commit suicide
The liars grinning
At my tires spinning
Increase their sinning
Once they know they’re winning
Dragons fly
In the sky
Passing by
My passive life
They look down on me
Their talons I flee
But fire they breathe
Scorching me deep
I once had you
Now I have them
I’m stuck in glue
That is their phlegm
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
Do you really love God
with so much hatred in your heart,
alabaster skin
cut to the bone,
bleeding shades of deepest crimson,
you are the universal child,
the testimony.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 6:05 AM UTC
Driving home tonight I found myself ailed
With a classic case of the "you have failed
To foster another relationship in a successful way"
And the symptoms are found in this life of dismay
My treatment, I've determined, should be solitude
And perhaps mixing that with some "I'll desert you"
But really, I came home tonight with a great deal of braces
'Round my legs and my arms from these "Classic cases"
Like, for example, I'm certain I've contracted a classic case of the **** you"s
It's a deadly disease, detrimentally acknowledging my refuse was full of abuse
And, I think I feel it now, yes, it's another classic case:
Of the variety of "can't you feel your heart race?"
Like you know the words that come out of her mouth
Yes, you have to feed them to her
And you know that when they come, things'll go south
Yes, this one will be a bruiser
But nothing like you haven't felt before, I'm sure
You're a hardened stone of a heart, boiled apart
And no one is going to put you back together
Except for yourself.
Yes; I've contracted the **** this *****
But I think I've brought it on myself
I've contracted these classic cases because
I am a classic case of the "I can't be alone"s
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
Above the Arctic Circle, where the Laplanders dwell,
A place where sunlight never melts the tundra’s icy shell
And Beelzebub himself eschews, strongly preferring Hell.
Yet evil is no stranger here
Due to a beast the natives fear:
The dragon of Parikkala.
The provincial church was burgled, a most confounding case
Church poor boxes relieved of gold and scattered ‘round the place
The cleric who resided there was gone without a trace.
‘Twas nothing the good priest would do
The evidence all pointed to
The dragon of Parikkala.
The sheriff was a bruiser by the name Jyl Purrakut
Rumored to be the owner of a house of ill repute
Such assertions (quite naturally) he’d angrily dispute:
Not down to me, he’d all but hiss,
*You know who is to blame for this
The dragon of Parikkala.*
Banker Aric Toskala charged outlandish interest rates,
And those who did not pay on time met most unhappy fates,
Tossed rudely from their homes and forced to sleep on sewer grates
Confronted, Aric explained why
It seems his brain was addled by
The dragon of Parikkala.
Young Jana Makkarainen, from a fine family in town
Was victimized unknowingly, her life turned upside-down
Resulting in a swelling underneath her simple gown.
My maidenhood, the girl would cry
*Was cruelly stolen from me by
The dragon of Parikkala.*
In this cold, humble northern burgh, sin is the soup du jour
Although the town folk, one and all, are wholly chaste and pure
And so a host of gloomy fates they stoically endure
Yet they are blameless in the least
The fault lies wholly with the beast
The dragon of Parikkala.
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
Enough words said,
Enough lies spoken.
You did it again
So you get a token
To ride this train down
Right to the edge of town
To drop you off
You'll laugh, you'll scoff.
But if you think that you're so tough
"I'm mature like an adult cause my life's been rough"
Then take that train ride like a knife,
I promise you ain't ready for life
Because when that train comes down the tracks
Life's gonna get you like an axe.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC