"hatchet" poems
Kudos to Kaepernick.
I just cannot drown all my beliefs and ideas, even if it contradicts my flesh and soul. When I heard that not standing up to the tune; that has always succeeded on sweeping all of the messes underneath the sad reality, to be deemed as subversive, I know that Rosa would definitely clench onto the seat tighter than ever.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
To drag our body out there, all over the precious hills and fields, while acting as if the scale has always been set fairly beneath you all this time, will hurt you more than myself. How can a mere matter of things decide our future, our destiny? We shall shape our fate, you shall shape your own fate, and to be judged on the perception biasedly built in the name of order for thousands of years, is a situation that should not be endured by anyone or anything in a tiny dot within this vast universe.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
And for that, I cannot stand proudly and profess my love to you as of now, even though I will always wear my heart on my sleeve for you to see. To be cheated, to be manipulated, to be deemed as surplus, by those at the tip of the plateau, that cunningly asked us to forget all the tangles and wrangles for the love of this sacred land, while unashamedly distribute everything off the land, off the ocean amongst them, is the last thing that we should allow to happen. I am one of those people that are not able to put on the mask on top of our meant-to-be honest faces, to say hail to the thief is worse than the eternal grief. I have never dreamed of burying the hatchet with them, not even for a second and if I ever do it, I shall be condemned and dismissed for forgetting the roots, the fons et origo of mine. To love you does not mean to stand still to the soulless melodies, to love you does not mean to bow down to the meaningless piece of cloth that has overseen countless infiltration and bombing over the years.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
To love you is to fight for the rights of many, by any means, even by not standing up. When black is no longer the symbol of miserable, filth and calamity, we shall then breath with ease, stand on our feet and fully embrace the real meaning behind all those majestic words.
Kudos to Kaepernick.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 10:09 PM UTC
let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
*& if you are getting choked up
then maybe you should be*
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
.....before you hurt someone else
With the sharpness of. Anger.
Wash your hands clean of
The past we were given
So that you may hold present day,
Not stained by the rust
Of a saddened heart.
My brother, you are my best friend.
You know my dark is the same as yours.
We carry the memories of
A tainted childhood.
My brother..... Let go.
Some things are better not said
We cannot change them now.
Nothing they could ever say
Could take IT away.
If it's validation, here this,
"My brother, we've survived!"
Look at you. So strong,
And this life made you this way...
Not broken, not ruined, unafraid.
This weight that you carry
Must be. So. Very. Heavy.
My brother,
Let go.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
The windows down
Warm sticky air
Salty sweat
Kody’s beside me in the truck
She has a hatchet and I have a hand grenade
We’ve just been driving around town
Screaming **** the earth
Screaming it at all the pretty churchgoers
The school board members
Her old softball coach
I didn’t pay the rent this month
Kody didn’t eat a single vegetable
We ****** about 76 times
She’s been painting really beautiful
Its true talent
Mom sent some mail that said she missed me
I look pathetic trying to react like a son should
I’m almost as free as you would want to be
But what a God **** shame
I have to wake up in a few hours
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
My heart pounds for your smile, Dogbreath
I like you more than a ****** likes ****
you may be family and I may call you bro
but it’s not ****** when you’re a Juggalo.
I’ll never forget the day that we met
one kiss and I wanted to be your Juggalette
my passion for you burns like a thousand suns
it can’t be contained even if I were restrained by nuns.
My desire for you isn’t even satirical
if you think about it it’s kind of a miracle
drawn together like magnets – how do they work?
and the way you touch my **** drives me berserk.
You wrangle records like a big money rustla
I like Lady Gaga and ain’t much of a hustla
I was born this way, but my heart can grow bigga
if you’ll take my hand and say you’re my *****
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you
Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, ******** ********* Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand
This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays
Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...
From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
who are you?
You
upon whose skin comedies are written
in bruises and scars like graffiti on your heart
scrawled upon the walls in the language of
maddening imperfection.
You
who exhumes the bones of demons
from the graveyard growing
inside of you
the cemetery where you bury your grief.
who are you?
who rebels at the crimes,
self-inflicted, yet
cannot bring yourself to bury the hatchet
(a hurricane that refuses to be named.)
You
who has learned (to your sorrow)
that the world has teeth
and homes cannot be made
out of human beings.
You
who cannot help but idle
on the question
"what parts of me still function
properly?"
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 3:24 AM UTC
Up the stairs went molly Pratchett,
in her hands a little hatchet.
Squealing loud in girlish glee,
at all the gore that she'll see...
Slowly down the hall she crept,
to the room where her parents slept.
She raised the hatchet over her head
and slowly tiptoed over to their bed...
She sank the hatchet into their heads
until alas they were dead....
Now she sits in a padded cell
where they keep here very well.
They closed the door then they latched it
This ends the tale of molly Pratchett,
OR DOES IT?.................................
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
The barbaric queen, her abilities stiffened
His presence strickened by her directed speech
Could it be her brick fence weakend
Love had made it's way into the leaks
Thoughts become lies, diminishing her kingdom
****** passion, a caused lusting
Touching her breast
Carressing her hips
Legs shake, she is a disgrace
The guards ushering him from her towering mattress
Empathy made her a mockery
A hatchet to the soul, he is nonexistent and undesirable
Her long webbed veil, disguises her weeping
Her eyes blackened, she is a demon bleeding
Halo misplaced, in dismay
She is a woman rigid and prevailing
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
RUSH
"SUBDIVISIONS"
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson
The Trees
There is unrest in the forest,
There is trouble with the trees,
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas.
The trouble with the maples,
(And they're quite convinced the're right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light.
But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made.
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade?
There is trouble in the Forest
And the creatures all have fled
As the Maples scream 'Oppression!'
And the Oaks, just shake their heads
So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights.
'These oaks are just too greedy;
We will make them give us light.'
Now there's no more oak oppression,
For they passed a noble law,
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet,
Axe,
And saw.
by Rush
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
there in the wilderness
all things go to live
and all things go to die.
she stole my shirt and hatchet
and took to the woods.
hacked out the heart.
traded one wilderness for another. city into
trees.
she needed to breathe
and wring wet socks, relax, and study the mycelium songs underfoot.
she she she, like a marvelous
new love.
the grass and green stuff woven.
canteen replete with wheat nectar
or half-batch whiskey.
needs nutrient,
the seed so new.
needs space,
the daughter as she grew.
what tempest breaks the trees and old heads
of mother timber?
perhaps deep-winter,
to test the fiber of a florescent forest fleek.
she built a chikee from fallen arms of a sprucewood soul,
drank water from a clay-thrown bowl
and granola to heat her bones.
new fish.
the river is cold on glacier blood.
new day,
driven beyond the random access roads & cobalt blast-holes stretching
gulches bloomed in chaparral.
up they crawl along monumental spine and shoulder,
giants sleeping.
she she she, live a marvelous new love.
the wonder is seen.
the wilderness lived and remembered
by girl or elk bugling their high-decibel poems
when ready.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC
Last chance to dance with the unknown
Bury that hatchet and hit the road
Along the coast, into the sea
In the forest, surrounded by green
A slide of hand to light the match
The wood it burns never stood a chance
Though the fire flames inside
I am cold on this stormy night
A heart that beats to the rain drops
What must I do to make this pain stop
Along a path, alone I must go
Single footprints in this deep snow
Alone, awake, I'm at it again
Predictable life I can't stand
To this hour I've become a coward
Trying to search deep to discover my powers
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
same same
secret sorrow clown
a 1000 smiles open doors
darkened blue eyes
elbow room
packing his fiend
along side
muttering silence
something about freedom
hatchet horror show
something new
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
I am willing to bury the hatchet
even if it's in my chest
but let's not walk forward under false pretense
you said for both of us it's best
but we are both falling apart
you with a smile on your face
and I, with an axe in my heart
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 2:16 PM UTC
Medication time wheezed nurse ratchet
Her yellowed teeth as sharp as a hatchet
Medication time medication time
She shouts once more
Leaving me sickly chilled to my core
Medication time medication time
she hisses in my ear
Will I ever get better or is it only my fear?
Medication time medication time
she picks up in pace
If the medicines working why do I feel I'm being erased?
Medication time medication time
It comes to an end
I've been lobotomized and left for dead
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Don't bury it
burn
the hatchet
and the money
and the grass.
All frightening things
seem trivial
once the moment starts to pass.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
It was on Hallowe'en when we said we'd meet;
as we thought it might be romantically spooky;
and I trotted gaily along the pathway
through the dimly-lit park
where the predator gay *** maniacs roamed
hoping for a bit of backdoor action
and my excited little heart went
"YI YI YI YI YI YAAAAARRRGGGHHH!"
with eager anticipation
of a hot new nymphomaniac date.
We had been a-texting with
ever-increasing frankness
for several weeks and I was beginning
to get tired of wiping the keyboard clean
after each bout of frenzied
manual self-stimulation
which she had boldly urged me to
and the built-in camera was out of order
because of the damp ***** build-up.
I found the pictures she sent me
stimulating to say the very least
especially the one with the melon
peeping out from between her legs
and I found her blood-red eyes
rather exciting really
once I got used to them;
and I was quite looking forward
to the love bites she promised me
which was why I had washed my neck
with particular attention to the blackheads.
Promptly at the stroke of midnight
my putative mistress arrived
with a ******* great clap of thunder
and to say I was surprised by her sulphurous breath
would be putting it mildly
and the fifty-five inch waist
was a bit of a disappointment,
and I honestly and truly think
she might have mentioned
the suppurating scabs
and oozing boils
or at least hinted at them.
As I fought the ravening hell-bitch off
with the hatchet I had wisely brought
in my briefcase as a safety precaution
once more I rued my innocence:
how many times have I been let down
after such high hopes from internet dating
and yet - trusting soul that I am -
I had again let my heart go astray.
Once it was all over
and I gazed down at her hideous
and mutilated corpse bleeding
and twitching on the ****** bitumen,
I lifted up her skirt
just to check the melon photo
hadn't been a fake;
and although there was no large
piece of fruit in situ at the time
I could see it had always
been a very real possibility.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
The pine floorboards, cover my work.
The pine floorboards, creak at the spot I ripped them up.
I didn't want to **** her,
But she made me insane,
In a fit of rage,
I put a hatchet Right through her ******* brain.
The pine floorboards, cover my work.
The pine floorboards, stained red at the spot I took her life.
Underneath the earth,
In a dark crawlspace,
That's where you'll find my love,
Sleeping oh so peacefully,
Underneath the pine floorboards.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
by Gary Snyder
One afternoon the last week in April
Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet
One-half turn and it sticks in a stump.
He recalls the hatchet-head
Without a handle, in the shop
And go gets it, and wants it for his own.
A broken-off axe handle behind the door
Is long enough for a hatchet,
We cut it to length and take it
With the hatchet head
And working hatchet, to the wood block.
There I begin to shape the old handle
With the hatchet, and the phrase
First learned from Ezra Pound
Rings in my ears!
"When making an axe handle
the pattern is not far off."
And I say this to Kai
"Look: We'll shape the handle
By checking the handle
Of the axe we cut with–"
And he sees. And I hear it again:
It's in Lu Ji's Wen Fu, fourth century
A.D. "Essay on Literature"–in the
Preface: "In making the handle
Of an axe
By cutting wood with an axe
The model is indeed near at hand."
My teacher Shih-hsiang Chen
Translated that and taught it years ago
And I see: Pound was an axe,
Chen was an axe, I am an axe
And my son a handle, soon
To be shaping again, model
And tool, craft of culture,
How we go on.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
At first,
Words were literal.
Hearts were broken,
I mean literal.
You were a brother,
Never meant to get mixed up.
Between a million lies,
We got mixed up.
They see you as a child,
Yet I see more.
I wanted to see the rage
You had stored.
Like a tornado,
Things got out of control.
Like a crescendo,
The damage took it's toll.
See,
I want to show you worlds,
Universes,
Where imagination is real.
Hours are but golden candles,
On a cherrywood wheel.
But we lost our faces,
And fingers were pointed.
Caught in mazes,
We were the unholy anointed.
My apology.
I write it in blood.
My reasoning?
Was a broken love.
A bond,
Shattered by blind hate
Until even holy water became taint.
What happened between us and Her,
That's old.
A hatchet lost forever,
Shattered in the cold.
We were labeled,
Yet I don't see you as a child.
With skills like yours,
It was fun to be wild.
You called out names,
Of course we obliged.
Naturally with these games,
We piled the fire high.
But,
Perspective was lost.
Or was it?
I don't care.
Bury the hatchet, Arcassin.
Lets clear the air.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 5:20 AM UTC
the flowers that bloom
at the site of this burial
are not a marker
nor memory of
what lies beneath;
they are the reminder
that there will always
be this burst of
colour and beauty
to be cherished
in spite of
what those roots
have grown through
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 9:25 AM UTC
Behind closed eyes
And shuttered dreams
And barred windows
I see the color green
For the sea I write
Behind iron bars
And deathly individuality
And ghostly thought
I see the color white
For the air I write
Behind four pointed snowflakes
And glistening ice pools
And a hatchet clinging to the
Frosted waves
I see the color red
For the fire I write
Behind the open air
And the dank walls
And the endless earth
I see the color of hope
Blackly shining
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
*He was such a sweet talker,
Met him at a real nice bar
He didn't have a ring on
I didn't know it would go so far*
Yes, he is a charming *******
That sounds like his M O
Always getting drunk in a bar
Looking for his next ***
*That's not how it was
He wasn't even that drunk
I see it all clearly now
His lies all stunk*
The first thing I thought
as I saw you two together
Is not what a lady should say
So I think that I had better
Keep my mouth shut
And rise above the situation
Calling you a ****
Would just start a confrontation.
*Listen here, "wife"
I didn't know he was married,
Thats not my type.
Throw away this hatchet you carried
I'm not the one you should be mad at,
He's been doing this behind BOTH our backs!*
That is fine "mistress"
I think we can both agree
He is the one to blame and
it shouldn't be taken out on you or me
Now the hatchet that you talk of
The one that I have carried
I know what we should do
And where it should be buried
*Who knows how many times
He's sweet talked an innocent girl
We could do something real nice
To rock his fantasy world
What do you say, you and me?
I think this could be destiny.....*
To Be Continued.....
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
A crashed plane
a forest of trees
was all brian had at first
A lake of water
a shelter
Is what brian found
A survival pack
on the plane
is what brian had last
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Open your eyes.
Break the habit.
Cut the old
With a hatchet.
Don't you worry
Don't you stress.
I will help you
Through the rest.
I'm your mentor.
I'm your guide.
I'll light your way
Through life's ride.
It's no problem.
I'm on your team.
Just take my hand
Before you leap.
It'll be hard.
It'll hurt a little,
But looking back
Where you started
Is such a miracle
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 12:44 PM UTC