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Alex McQuate May 2018
Great tragedy suffered,
Impossible circumstances conquered,
The warrior walks upon the field flanked path.

The wanderer's armor tells a tale,
Battle scarred and partially rent asunder,
A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath,
Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier.

The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world,
Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall.

A trickle becomes a downpour,
The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop,
The message firmly planted within their mind.

Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace,
Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped.

The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency.

The rain is cold upon the faces of those that it falls on,
The torn edges of metal digging in at places,
Some already wounded and tender,
As the final hilltop between them is crested.

The gates are closed,
And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out,
A fist is raised,
The declaration of allegience given,
An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted,
And a challenge of one's path,
Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth,
Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal.

A long ago promised gift to be rewarded,
For all the things endured,
Things that could be considered so cruel,
The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane,
As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released,
For the first and only time.

These things ringing out dispite the storms roaring wind,
Gathering force,
Perhaps in affirmation of the warriors words.

After a pause the gate begins to lift,
It's metal screeching,
The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the embattered soldier is bathed in light,
Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders,
As the threshold is finally crossed.
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—I 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.
Ashwin Kumar Sep 2018
You are a guardian of the law
Your duty is to keep crime at bay
And bring the criminals to justice
But, as I watch you,
Wearing a khaki uniform
And swinging your baton around
As you go about on your daily rounds
I am filled with such a rage
That I hold my hand up in prayer
And desperately wish that thoughts could ****
Because you would then be dead
Before anyone could even say "police"

You are a guardian of the law
Your duty is to keep crime at bay
And bring the criminals to justice
But instead, you abuse the immense power
That you wield in your iron fist
As people come out in hordes
To protest on various issues
You swing your baton around
As wood clashes against flesh
Democracy dies a thousand deaths
However, your **** is unsatiated
A pistol replaces the baton
As it rains bullets
Bundles of cash change hands
As you quietly pocket them
You yell to the world
That justice has been served
Even as the bodies pile up
And Humanity waves a white flag
As she bows to your iron fist
This is my rant against the brutal and corrupt police force of India.
G Rog Rogers Oct 2017
Nothing could save you
from your addiction
No one can save you
from your self

When you fell
You fell
straight to ****
You were gone
when you started
And nothing could
stop you...

from your addiction

****-bent for trouble
Headlong into tragedy
Drug induced psychosis
held you tight in its grip

Tighter than the clench
of a tightly gloved fist
The clenched fist of...

Your addiction

You bartered away
everything you owned
While incinerating
Your mind

Your heart and your life
cannot much longer
hold on...

against your addiction

No one could save you
from your addiction
Nothing can save you
from yourself.

-R.

(10.12.17)
-LA

-4MAR
©ASGP
Well...
**** this ****,
I don't even try to feel like this.
I just want that pretty boy to hit.
I hate his face,
his name is the worse.
He'll be wishing
he left our fight in a hearse.
I don't wanna be angry,
violent
or ******.
But this kid,
just wants a date with my fist.
This jealously
just makes me ******* ill,
and in a duel for your love,
I would never kneel.
I'm sorry
this is the way I feel.
I just want you
more than anything else.
But you say,
I can't have you to myself.
So when your gone,
I write you things.
For that is what my emotion brings.
I'll fight for your love,
every single day.
Because right now,
there's no other way.
Christian Ek Dec 2014
I declare rebellious action upon the evils in authority.
Strength in my voice rises like the fist I lift up in the air.
Taking a stand against the machine!
Your democracy is bomb first ask questions later.
I got the right to protest if my government becomes a failure.
If continuing poverty is progress then you must be rich.
In a country historically rooted in corruption maybe its time we change history for the better.
A Jul 2018
We laughed and we cried,
We talked through the night,
We stayed on the same side,
We fought to make things right.

Remember when I'd fall?
You'd tell me I could rise,
I'd stand back up so tall,
I'd grown, I was more wise.

I was there when you'd need me,
I'd hold you to my chest,
You'd have me completely,
I'd make you see the best.

Somewhere along the line,
You started to drift away,
I wanted you to stay mine,
So I tried to make you stay.

You told me it wasn't me,
And so that's what I believed,
Your words they came easy,
It made me feel relieved.

But everything was a lie,
Times became so tough,
And I'd ask myself why,
Why aren't I good enough?

You think you can do better,
You don't see me inside,
My eyes become wetter,
As my confidence has died.

You'll keep searching for more,
While you crush my heart with your fist,
Find what you're looking for,
But perfect doesn't exist.

There was something wrong with me,
There'll be something wrong with her,
Consumed with vanity,
Consumed with what you prefer.

I can be a perfect size,
I can match what you desire,
Capture attention from the guys,
Be the one they all admire.

I'll learn to love myself,
But in a completely different way,
Won't place others to the back of the shelf,
Appreciate them everyday.

You'll keep on judging,
Remaining forever shallow,
Their confidence you'll keep nudging,
But one day you'll sit and wallow

As all the good ones got away,
The best ones you've ever known,
See you didn't let any stay,
And now you're all alone.
YEP
Deniz Eilmore Dec 2018
He must have kissed his fist
Before they reached your terrified face
For any form of love
Is good when its rough
For one who has never been
Enough
this was inspired by perks of being a wallflower
Keiji Apr 2014
Foggy, lighting and bellowing screams


my fist shoot through glass shoving through flesh scraping against tendon tainting the walls a new ruby coating, when it drys like granet
red on white statin
precious porcelain on ebony asphalt
the sound
crystal symbols being slapped together
or maybe cherubs screaming
the air coats my tongue my mouth my lo=unngs like cooper, perturbation and rapture
this storm

I get lost in it , until the rain comes and
washes the blood and dirt from my face it stings

There is fear and helplessness
something old I wrote
BJ Donovan Mar 6
I raise my fist in anger.
I scream into the void.
All I hear is a faint echo of
what was once my heartbeat.
Impotent. I don't have the wealth to be properly heard.
Lacey Clark Oct 2018
Raised faux-religiously in a catholic school by convenience of neighborhood (though, I loved the plaid and I wanted to do Eucharist but my mom explained I wasn't catholic, so I dabbled with the hymns and cursive) by my two *** moms and some 'extra kids' (fostering, etc) in Spokane. Homeschooled later (and seriously religiously, Vacation Bible School, NO HARRY POTTER and no saying '******', a lot of neighborhood scootering) by uncle auntie and my two home-made and hilarious cousins (siblings) in Nevada. another private school in the Wild West with my grandpa and grandma (maybe religiously? they took me out to Mexican dinner religiously). And scattered across the West, Mid-West and South for all the rest. Public schools interwoven and equally traumatizing in between states.
One school in florida was known for fist fights and head lice. I kissed my first boy there. and girl. I left for what I thought was summer vacation and never came back. Another accidental move.
I had been squeezed in-between the palms of each coast for high school (plopped in the midwest).
In Wisconsin, I popped like a pimple and broke some major skin. Tried to end my life a few times. Psych ward after psych ward. Pills. Pills. Pills! A nurse took me aside and said "i have hope for you" and it was the first time i felt seen. met hard drugs to replace the cutting- they felt like long lost friends. Easy to pick up.
And recovery was like feeling your face after a satisfying shaving... and not a scratch since.
Now gliding along the West Coast in Academia's matrix. Politics and community engagement and the center. Clean. In the Heart of the City. Biking with helmets. Shoebox studio apartments. Nose in book, nose in food. Day job with a class of kids who I love and who love me. Space to grow, assess, reshape. Optimism. Peace. Stability.
Chloe W Sep 2018
When I think of the future,
I cannot grasp the thought of a career.
But, I think of a kitchen with wood panels, windows, and a few too many plants.
Of sitting in the rain, watching the sky turn dark.
I think of a symphony in the trees.

I think of saying I love you.
Of all the different ways I could say, I love you.
I think of taking your fist in mine and kissing it, because they say its the size of your heart.
Of a gentle touch with an attempt to take your pain away.
I'll repeat it a million times until I lose my breath, I love you.
Daisy Marrow Sep 2013
Is this the end or is this just the start?
With a demon's red velvet hands wrapped around my throat
It leaves me a ghostly white.
I prayed every night but never heard anything in return.
If there really is a god he'll have to beg for my forgiveness
because I dug my own tunnel and crafted my own sword.
I saved myself from playing anymore of these wicked games.
Tonight you'll hear me cry and I won't pray for nothing.
I reach high to where my dreams are I imagine the light of day and to be saved.
I'm followed by shadows and swallowed up by the blackness behind,
wasting time watching stars collide.
But I swear one day I will be strong enough to raise waters and push through the mountains.
One day when I grow taller, taller than god.
But right now I'm standing in shallow water dreaming of the stars
thinking of the history books I'll be in when I escape these cell walls and finally breathe the earth once again.

I have breathed these dusty walls and cried to many nights.
Blue night, blue moon in the sky
one day I'll see you from a different view
once I escape my imprisoned doom.
I understand my security but I am no longer soulless
so you no longer have the right to treat me like I'm less.
I'll break these walls and break my fist
I know who I am and where I stand.
My weary mind and my heavy soul and a broken heart
will see the face of god and still not believe.
For what is heaven
It must be what holding a lover feels like,
but I know no lover that can live past the flames of ****.

What are, what are these walls made of flames doing?
I'm pure again and deserve a free sentence.
I deserve light.
I deserve to believe in something other than the normal.
I can believe in myself.
I can be my own god.
Hope is not dead,
so I've read.
Supernatural
Sam Winchester
Zumee Nov 2018
Sometimes
the hardest thing to do:
Lending a helping fist
to a face in need.
Emma Brigham Dec 2017
Usher in
a long taffeta skirt,
pearl earrings and delicate hands.
Horn-rimmed glasses
on the man you saw at the grocery store.
Children still in their winter boots,
a frozen sunset glowing on round cheeks.
Smile at them,
agree with them.
Yes it's a cold one out there.
The fire laughs behind you.
Tea and memories of home
warm your throat.
Is this where you thought you'd be?
Ask yourself.
Write the answer on a piece of paper,
crumple it in your fist
and throw it in the flames.
Fuel.
Thank everyone for coming.
mitus May 2018
Spilling the juice all over the floor,
Missing you each day more and more.

Listening to music- new and old
My decisions getting a bit more bold.

Shutting the door louder than usual,
My mind is starting to get delusional.

Loving you without a doubt,
Hate seeing you with other girls out and about.

Scrutinizing every mistake I write,
Only to view every poem I spite.

Luring the unknown into my room,
Chimney blows wind in with a bad fume.

Securing my own locks on doors so fragile,
My body always wanting to move so agile.

Leaving your life and entering his,
Wisdom hit but so did his fist.

Sobbing on the cold ground,
I wish I still had you around.

Listening on what to do - my friend’s advice,
Maybe I have to start trying more than twice.

Sending mixed signals and causing trouble,
Will only ever lead to a burst in the bubble.

Lacking thought or too many to count,
So many problems I have to dismount.

Serving my old yet new figure,
My body tired, and oh-so-bitter.

Latching on somebody to stay,
Words cannot explain my feelings at play.

Shouting loud but not loud enough,
My brain's gone into a severe slough.

Crying for extreme help,
I cannot do this by myself.
slay Nov 2018
Patience is progress and
While im basting in sauces
Calculating and calibrating all of my future accomplishments
In a world already too full of Batesian mockers
Feathers and followers
Glammed out like the ***** with her hands out and collars up
When will my *** ever run it up ?
Talk to me back like i owe you one
I can finally let my hair down, **** a bun
**** a lot of things ive outgrown or one up'd
Im so clean with a brush,
Im like a vision and such
I'm a ***** and an ******* at the same time; im ******

Stretching my mind as far as it goes,
Im in over my head and it's starting to show
All my thoughts are the size of my brain will implode
All the venom is leaking from deep in my soul
It's fascinating, time is circlulating faster than i can control
Tell myself that when the self is hibernating
There's a certain self awareness, only comes with reparations
In the void, incarcerated and
It's taking its toll
Whether wasting or waiting,
My kinetics all froze
Am I broke?

Every last breath that I've took
Has been a signal through parallels, my mind's somewhat shook
But this voice in my head is demeaning as ****
I might make myself choke just to shut that ***** up,

I am broke, but

Patience is progress, I'm told
Might tattoo that **** on my eyelids, stay woke
I'm consumed by its growth, ******* creepin, they know
That patience is progress
King Kong with my balled fist
On my chest chiefing and coughing the edge off my concious
I'm not really sure why some of you are so bitter and heartless
To **** a ***** vibe
Regardless stay chillin, im glossy
The bags bout in my pocket
I just stopped for every rose in Persephone's garden, and
Each one is sweeter, I taste Dyonosis
Ugh, I'm so flawless
I swear, one day I'll be better at all of this
Patience is progress
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