"clinches" poems
General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?
I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…
Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh
I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.
Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
(Commemoration of Earth-Day, 22nd-04-09)
Earth hath
Been Weeping!
Nature lacerated & pleading?
Extinct species beseeching;
Antarctica mercilessly melting,
Noxious gaseous emissions heating.
Have you ever wondered?
“Of the Greek mythology!”
women warriors of Scythia astray burned off the
Right ***** to try
to habituate the bow and arrow in sly,
arsenals of terror abound harsh shear ploy!
Hitherto, the atrocious force upon Nature ne'er stops.
Wherefore-now the lost leaf of the conifers?
Searching for the nearest route to the Savannah Plains,
Waiting pro the long anticipated cascades of the tropical rains. Babylon wrests & clinches intimately thy adored hanging gardens that black slaves tend no more hasten. Euphrates in the Persian Gulf wanders uncertain; Everest looks down in pitiful scorn…
As it wobbly looses its molecular activity in pain.
Humanity squirms in an enamored Trance
to heave a foundation Of conscious Purpose
That Earth day waits Upon us
To elucidate a divine Hypothesis.
~~/|\~~
Namaste'
~~\|/~~
Sep 17, 2009
Sep 17, 2009 at 4:49 AM UTC
Some people have *****
Better known as ignorance when reacting onto a matter
Others have heart
Those who engage their feelings with the cause; although, the conclusion might result in heartache
The risk is worth taking
No blame nor shame
Life is what you make it
And decisions should first be feelings
No one should answer life lessons
With ******** clinches and chest flexes
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Clammy creepy freaky fright
virulent vermin scary sight
tell me what is that.
Crawling craving webbing prey
frightens her when eats her whey
saved when pounces cat.
Ominous is its wicked lull
saintly sitting on the wall
mischief within skull.
Meditate in a stupored trance
quickly clinches preying chance
victory's joyous dance.
Brutish brownish bitter brat
worse than hornet bees and gnat
tell me what is that.
**** if you can in one slap
break its sticky ******* trap
hear hands' roaring clap.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Hand clinches
into a fist.
Which I could use
against you
Not a care in the world.
You say I'm blasphemous
I say your weak.
Screaming demons,
muscles writhing
in pain.
Blood stained eyes,
my tongue
sharpened like a sword.
Begging for mercy
upon a liars chair.
I can
I am.
tears shed,
spit it out.
Dying one more death,
to be redeemed again.
I live on.
Calloused hands, scarred sanity
hate is divinity
I am almighty.
Oct 3, 2009
Oct 3, 2009 at 6:03 AM UTC
I choose the rarely trod word-road
that takes rocky paths of poetic mindscape,
maps and clinches metaphor links grown
in unknown definement.
I look slant-eyed at morning's own
painting, facing blank canvas the sea becomes
jasper and foam turns to lace as image
transcends norm to new heights.
I view stary skies pock-marked
with diamonds, ocean outcrops hold mermaids,
sand secretes silvered past as grief-gilded
each sunset weeps its goodbyes.
I write emotion into whale-cry,
sentence fur and feather to human behaviour,
translate seasonal change to safe ground
for my fancy's winged flight.
I dare take words a stage further,
imagine boundless and verse a beyondness,
bend grammar by stretching out to sense
inanimate liveliness.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
I.
On the surface easily gliding,
are my hands. I keep on the table
an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
whose face I can almost touch.
When let go of closure, air thins and I move
secretly with fluency. This is how objects
escape my grip.
II.
In front of the eatery, a transit.
I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
The face next to me, disquieting the music
of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
another throng of absence. As a substitute
for beings shackled to duty,
the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
the wind through opened windows.
III.
Define space as a venue for collision.
Say when a red-haired woman straddling
a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
She ascribes her presence to my footing
and from where she left off, I take form
of her expired movement.
Found strangeness is that space
is what happens when remembered. But hold no
bearing and rear contrivance,
trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
the in-betweenness and then transmutes
an occurence,
say the volatile shape of a hand when
clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
reticence of a troubling question.
IV.
A man carries a take away and is now
amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
housing a familiar language. Home.
But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
trying to transact a being angled towards home.
They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
Air once stale, is now succulent with the
resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
of times the vehicle trundles within
the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
with rest. He is home,
unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
freed from a vitrine.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
Now they are memories
like silver threads in a gliding tapestry
how wondrous feeling and smelling the sea breeze
the aromas and excitement of the market
the cool magnificence of the mountains
in late autumn on the brink of winter.
These travels and their newness
still dance in my head
but even now my gut clinches
remembering the effort and focus
on preparations each day.
It’s the dark side of the coin
sadly evoking shame
to even mention it
a blotch in the snow
on the marvelous trek north.
But write it I must.
I wonder if it take courage
to be pitiful in public,
but maybe that’s what poets do
undress in front of everyone.
It is the stuff of nightmares
and here I am doing just that.
On the other hand…
How sweet the peace
and routines
back home
sitting calmly writing
looking out on the back yard
the tallow trees coloring
preparing to shed a variegated carpet below.
Maybe it took travel
to help me appreciate
the beauty of
these serene moments
at home.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
The frozen road covers with blood.
I see thy feet are dancing on it.
You are twisting your body with clam eyes,
I cannot hold my eyes but see.
How delicate your steps are!
My indecisive oath lifts me up,
And clinches me to see your Danse Macabre.
Your indomitable splurge melts the ice,
Cleans the path to walk on it,
Invites the passer-by to go on that way.
Everyone goes, I don’t dare,
I just watched the dance of thee.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:30 AM UTC
the few moments I find clarity
she molds effortlessly to doubt
ruthlessly she steals my smile
holds it hostage with my worth
shes the first to say good morning
and the last to say goodnight
clinches harder to my body
when I focus on the light
She finds her clarity in the moments I lose mine
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
The iodine of lapsed desires
The sting clinches my strength
The cold claws at my fire
Stealing my gleameth
You walk on by to war
Now I wish you would reappear
But the notes are black on the red eyes of Mars . . .
year after year
Dec 23, 2023
Dec 23, 2023 at 10:24 PM UTC
In a dark cave I can see your bright innocent eyes.
Eyes,
Your strong hands becoming my candle,
Remember?
We’re running as fast as we can, to discover light.
Fright,
Fearful emotions coursing through me, while you remain brave.
Saved,
Like this reality summarizes your whole life.
Secret life,
Your strong broad arms clinches to me, like how my father’s once did.
Live,
Memories being animated, how my heart used to beat.
So deep,
I am grateful to feel the strength of your love.
Free like white doves.
Free from doubts of loving a stranger.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC