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outside in the dark with a broken heart
you said you loved it when my blood shed,
said that **** was art
I'm thinking over how your eyes shined in the bright night sky
you said it's nothing - it's not scary scary -
but won't tell me why
you held my arm down in the bathroom, see it all pour out
said get to class, gave me a kiss
don't let them know about
the scars put on me or the bruises that have yet to heal
I won't say nothing, you'll still love me
that was now the deal
I'm on sidewalk high as ****, don't know my whereabouts
this LSD must keep my mind straight
now I'm crying out
you said it's nothing, just some stress you release with a fist
my jaws sits crooked, my heads dizzy,
there's blood on my wrist
she wore the smile on her face just like a loaded gun
said keep them blisters covered up
and don't tell anyone
from shaving razors and the needles you hide behind your back
I'm like a doll, just like a pin cushion
that's blue and black
you said you loved me but you'd trade me for a cigarette
now I'm just smoking all 19
the thunder makes 'em wet
outside in the street walking towards the cars
I'd rather die then watch you use me,
giving me more scars
I'm tearing through all
Dimensions
And walls all over

This nightmare of a
**** bucket
I'm too smart to be

Held captive by you
Will beg me
For forgiveness one

Day I'll be back here
And smiling
You will **** your pants

With my fire fists aimed
At your small
Member you will be

Dust at my fingers
Your ashes
I'll tatoo into a

Kunekune I
Will raise to
Adulthood and then

Eat as a hot dog
And remember
How you ****** your pants

Begging for mercy
That I did
Not give mmm tasty
Firefist
...
Revenge
Akira Chinen Sep 2018
The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s **** and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script  /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist
Hunter Green Dec 2018
Stop taking my glances.
I swear they’re tearing me down.
I get caught in these trances,
And I lose more of myself.
I feel empty each time.
They aren’t just open chances
I hear the world’s whisper,
But I feel the heart’s scream.
Each pair of eyes are a sister.
I want a mind as clean as snow,
I want my heart to be someone’s home
But I fight these these feelings as my fists get blistered.
King Panda Mar 2016
It’s no fun to cry when someone is looking at you
It’s only fun to cry when you’re alone
naked
under covers
your pillow saturated in salt
and sometimes that’s not even fun
and you wonder
why even bother
when God sees everything you do
every tear you shed
that you are always being watched
that you can never cry without someone looking at you
and you raise your fist into the muggy darkness and declare
*******
God
Jordan Rowan Apr 2016
There's a tired old man singing in his boat
He hates his voice but he still likes to vote
Voter registration put him on hold

The value of a thought has steadily dropped
Respect for free speech has stopped
I gave my opinion and someone called the cops  

Pump your fist in anger and tell the world why
Shout to the sky, look in the camera's eye
And say "I don't need a reason, it's my right"

Think of all the change that you will bring
Telling the artists what to paint and sing
Sanitize, commercialize, let freedom ring
AprilDawn Jun 2014
as though a small town
beauty pageant winner
paraded through  
tossing sweet petals
like fist-fulls of  candy  
from her seat perched high above
local roads
this fragrant litter
purged  in layers
from the catalpa tree
with  it’s divinely
designed
heart shaped leaves
plainly remains
      an organic  shade
for the neighbor's shed

.
This  is  a poem I began to write  7 years ago in Massachusetts ! I realized this  tree also existed  in my  neighbor's back yard where I live now about 2 years ago  ,  a truly  delightful discovery.The shape of  this tree   was  different  and that had thrown me, in identifying it.One day  my nose was clear enough to smell the flowers on the  stepping stones on my way to the car and  the fragrance  catapulted me back to  that  big   tree  in New England.
King Panda Apr 2016
**** you, little
snake!
you beat me at my
own game!
but somehow I know
we’ll start again
and that time
I’ll win
and you’ll look
to the clouds
shake your fist
and declare
**** you,
Dewy!
you beat me at
your own game!
and you’ll meet
me at the finish line
and we’ll drink
lemonade
but until then
I’ll come in second
until then
I’ll look at the clouds
and think
of you
floating
with the sun
in your hands
rip, brother
punk rock hippy Jul 2014
I want to hit it hard, not romanticize about the blood ya feel me?
As you read that first line,
when you cross over to the second,
your nose will start to bleed just before my fist connects with your face.
I often dream about it, being feared.
The only reason that you're on the ground is because I put you there.
Quite frankly I'm fearful of myself.
My throat still holds the ache of the alcohol going down.
I swear to you I'm doing better.
I swear.

I can't swear in this house hold so I will talk so quickly creating run on sentences without punctuation or breath because I'm panicking over nothing in particular.

******.

Add some shakes to your vocabulary and you've got it right.
My medication puts stray dogs under my finger nails, that's ok because dogs are happiness.
That's supposed to mean I'm happy.

I made myself write this, its horrifyingly scattered just like my head.

That's not right.
That's wrong.
Something is terribly wrong so I must fix it.

That's what I do,
I fix.
I'll just look at this as art.
Some persons trash is another ones treasure.

I'm too scared to write anymore.


This is garbage.
L B Aug 2018
He was large as frogs go
Fist-sized happy rotund dweller
of backyard pond
Garter snake large, too large
with his ominous yellow stripes
and jaws to take
a larger than average mouthful
Choked by abdomen's girth
Legs drooling from his glut
Before the victim's even hit his gut's
digestive juices

Kid with hockey stick makes him puck
for his sin
Frog makes  desperate
slim swim for rocks
Where he lies in recovery
from shock and
teeth marks on his belly
Underdog gets defense from phone call-- Eve
150 miles away
intercedes
Frog gets mercy of a transport
to another backwoods pond--
to find his life
forgetting trauma
Suns himself and swims
Eats the bugs
and ***** the froglettes
of another day
My daughter desperate on the phone-- she and her stepson have just been witness to this scene.  Now what!  Now what!  Call mommy! Quick!
I give the household, "hunter man" the job and duty of relocation.  He objects, "But it's the way of nature!"
"Not on my watch, good man!
Not on my watch!"
The underdog gets the hand.
So ends the Drama locked into your Bronze
Nike kisses you and shows you her Womb
Who, despite Angry Lads, live Life's Beyond
Now Married are you to Testimony
I guess you will survive the Afterthought
Of Promos and Parcels you will not Resist
The Wheel turns again; And in your Forenaught
Honest Advices refuse to make a Fist
You have this Resume of Deaf-Record,
Partial to Characters you do not Like
Even if they ask Penance for your Accord
Your Self-Righteousness slaps them in-spite.
What's the use? Your Friends will come to your Defense
Even if an Ant like me Stings to make Sense.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
I am the fulcrum, the base and the lever.
I am the space and the form and the game.

I am the maker, the vessel, the dreamer,
the teller, the namer—though naming, un-named.

I am the vision, the vista, the seer.
I am the lintel, the door and the frame.

I am the lock, the key and the knocker,
the handle, the pause and the knocker again.

I am the palm and the fist and the shoulder.
I am the sole and the road and the stride.

I am the still—all that echo, and echoes.
I am freedom, my counsel, my guide.
ryn Aug 2015
.
■■■■■■
|.....l.....|
|.....l.....|

• let the
ticks on
my wri-
st•mirr-
or   that
of     my
pulse    •
for  what
i fail to cle-
nch in fist•in
my heart, nev-
er falters; never
•••••dulls•••••
□□□□□■12■□□□□□
  ■11            ^              1■  
■10                 I                 2■  
■9                    ●----->         3■  
■8                                      4■
■7          ­                       5■
□□□□□□■6■□□□□□□

••••••for••••••
with each tick of
the hand • is a
glimpse into
the uncert-
ain future
• let  slip
the  loo-
se   gra-
ins     of
sand•c-
lose the
tempor-
al  gaps
to bring
you......
much
clos-
er•
Traveler Jun 2013
I hear the weeping of a motherless child
My conscience is clear, my awareness defiled
Global warming, melting icecaps, disappearing bees
All these different threats of our accelerating entropy
By the recklessness of our desires our species is driven
We ignore matter of fact, and scientific proof given

Green behind the shadow, peace behind the fist
Greed behind the reason for the evidence we dismiss
So allow yourselves to experience this uneasiness of mind,
The dread that holds us fast, cause it's our species on the line...
Traveler Tim
06-2019
The bees are coming back so perhaps we've nothing to dread over.
William Eberlein Feb 2013
Let me imply
that if I'm to die,
it will be on my own terms.

I insist,
need be even with my fist,
that I tie the noose myself.

My foot
will give its input
to the bucket.

And for a single moment
I will be buoyant
among atoms of air.

In the next I will fall,
with my shadow against the wall.

My feet will never again touch the floor.

The rope whispers one last twang
as I hang.

Eyes loose luster.

My life has burnt like Magnesium.

Fast and bright,
like the speed of light.
laura Apr 2018
wanna twist and shout
fist and clout
the silent wrestle
a lapse of consciousness
bereft of science
and hard as metal

black and blue
***** girl, ***** pronoun game
strewing the fate in a storm
of words strung like wire

what do you want?
don’t call me like a woman
and don’t call me one either
you don’t got any other way
to communicate

it’s blame it on anything you don’t got
close the chapter and the verse
with a love curse
an empty ball and chain
because it’s all you and no me
i’m dumb as rocks but you have one instead of a brain
Ira Aug 2018
Demon Fang and angels wing,
All those below them are to be taunted with string,
They are of the most powerful beings.


Before the Satan and the God,
The seven representatives of each are to be awed.

For David,
He has his son,
Ira, The Sin of Wrath.

For Jesus,
He has his daughter,
Phi, The Virtue of Hope.

Under Wrath,
He has,
Pride,
Lust,
Gluttony,
Greed,
Envy,
Sloth,
And his Trainee,
Vainglory.

Under Hope,
She has,
Faith,
Chastity,
Fortitude,
Justice,
Temperance,
Prudence,
S­he is yet to have a trainee,
But many believe she hopes for it not to be.

Of demon and angel,
Hellspawn is the strongest when all laid out on the table.


As angels use weapons and craft there armor,
Demons fight with magic and fist,
Along with taking hits like common fodder.

Of demon fang and angel wing,
Hellspawn and Human Reflections,
They are opposing each other constantly,
And are the balancing act of reality.
Ehhh... Would Improve but I like it the way it is.
MJL Feb 15
Fist in pocket
Rot from within
Rage immortal
Unknown for a cause
Alone in fear
Alone in satisfaction
Perish for peace
Sacrifice


© 2019 MJL
I'm a **** in silverfoil
with an outlaw's Excaliber.
Bottle of Moet,
I'll glass 'em like a poet.
You don't seek my mad company,
but should you meet bad company,
don't woz your pretty head over secret ingredi-
ent in my  Punisher's Pigfeed.

Coz you gotcha self a guardian stalker,
gotcha back, aintcha noticed
how all of your opponents slowly
grace missing posters?
Guardian angel taking out his frustrations
on your every enemy: you don't know you need me.
Coz every kiss I miss I gulp to my fist,
every yelp  of my heart
calls for a friggin' riot!

Sometimes you feel me on the night,
your own personal Dark Knight.
I firebombed Brighthouse
- why didja think that tumbledryer was on the house?
I won the war of all your stalkers,
but last code red cost me a cold blood rap.
'Cherchez la femme'
my ooh-la-la Remoaner
Knox Road tat. Reminds me ...

I'm your guardian stalker,
I went bit Christopher Walken
on your daughter's bully's father
in a black balaclava.
Guardian stalker, you know
that ****** dogwalker  
found sleeping with the ducks
- I did it for you, Fido too!
Coz every kiss I miss I gulp to my fist,
every yelp of my heart
calls for a friggin' riot!

Guardian stalker, uh-huh! Guardian stalker o' her!
Guardian stalker, uh-huh! Guardian stalker o' her!
You can't **** a man who's already been killed by love.
You can't **** a man who's already been killed by love.
Emergency convening of COBRA
can't **** a man killed by love.
Even Walker, Texas Ranger
can't **** a man killed by love!
Knox Road = Norwich prison
Seated in a half circle,
Around their recycled leader
Men and women of ignominious calibre,
Ruminating over matters of state;

Out of touch minds,
Ancient recluse,
Trapped in stone age idiosyncrasies,
Blind to present shifting paradigm;

Six decades of backwardness,
Circular movement without advancement,
Left behind by peers,
Now poverty capital of the world.
Nigeria boasts of professors aplenty but nothing tangible to show in terms of development.
Carter Ginter Oct 2014
My stiff arms hit the metal of the door as I force it open, against
the chilled fist of wind, pounding hard upon the glass
windows and then equally upon my face and forearms. It had to be
below 50 degrees, but I had hoped that the cold could help me
feel again. Feel something. Unfortunately,
this ice only froze my fingers, leaving
my body as numb as my mind.

Later, as I rid my machine of the cloth concealment, protecting
the scars laced into my skin. The water boils as I
examine my life-lines, these battle scars, in the mirror and
can only cringe in thought of the disappointment drowning
the faces of those I care about most: their eyes
drooping down with the weight of eyebrows, creased
diagonally, half shock and the other half burning
discontentment. They purse their lips and stab my eyes
with their daggers, when I chuckle nervously.

I shake my head of these thoughts from my speculation and
step into the steam, hoping the heat could help me
feel again. However, the fire does not scorch my
body, nor incinerate the emptiness, it only slides
down the marble sculpture my body feels to be
(equivalent to the concrete barrier that builds behind my eyes)
this is my last and final goodbye
as I write this I think of the times you made me cry.
with your hurtful words
and your loving smile to others
the leather belt that struck my back and left the open wounds
the hot iron on my arm when I talked back
and the fist against my skull if I did something wrong.
love me, to mom
abuse is not to be taken lightly
laura Apr 2018
no i can’t change you or her
God’s wrath is disillusioning you
from hearing yourself or me
or all death’s friends

you think you can fix her
a thousand times like each plate
she’s thrown at you and each fist
she’s swung at you

and i’m telling you God won’t remember
the woman that she used to be
and the counselors won’t help you or her
but you’re a fixer man

can’t fix your back from that one time
she hit it with your old baseball bat
but you’ll fix her one day, right?
*** angela
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