"knockout" poems
*The two felt a chemical attraction.
Serotonin leaked onto his uncovered skin.
He couldn't speak, his tongue dried, dehydrated by her heat.
**** those eyes were like Kryptonite, He had pride in himself for being a statue.
Smooth as a razor blade he came out of that conversation dull.
The wrong impression was given since he had handed her rotten flowers.
Give me a second to recollect my thoughts and bring them back from the stunned blackout, wow, you are such a powerful knockout.
I'm fixing my posture and choosing my words right.
Our symbols are well matched and I'm not talking astrology, I'm talking chemistry.
Two different colors mixed together makes her blush and makes me crush.*
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Value someone who values you not like silver and gold,
Value someone who values you in fact ten times fold.
Value someone who values your smile,
Value someone who in difficult times makes smiling worthwhile.
Value someone who has always been there through the thick and the thin,
Value someone who has held you through late nights and gin.
Value someone who may irritate you till you pull your hair out,
Value someone who would knockout anyone else who tried to in a single bout.
Value someone who catches your every precious tear drop,
Value someone who does everything in and out of the book to make those stop.
Value someone who assures you that not all is lost,
Value someone who inspires you at no cost.
Value someone who protects you from every scratch and rake,
Value someone who spends the worlds time with you putting everything else at stake.
Value someone who holds you when nothing is right,
Value someone who's always there all your worries to fight.
Value someone who stands up for you in every situation,
Value someone who never gives up on you and goes for a vacation.
Value someone who does not care what the world says about you,
Value someone who recognizes the real inner you and believes you are unique in your very own way too.
Value someone with whom you may have the biggest of a fight,
Value someone who still incessantly stands two steps behind you and for you with a smile whether day or night.
Value someone who values you for what you are,
Value someone who continues to value you every minute and every hour, whether you are close or whether you are far...
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
THE BALLOONS hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens.
They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky.
Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, "What shall we eat?"-and the waiters, "Have you ordered?" they are sixty ballon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes.
Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing "educated ********* here they put ***** into their balloon faces.
Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Sargossa sea bottoms.
Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, "Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who's buying your shoes now, anyhow?"
So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God's night wind.
And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red.
The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens.
Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters.
The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters.
The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters.
These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number.
Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women?
And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town-these two, the half-moon and the wind-this will be about all, this will be about all.
Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it's a knockout, a classy knockout-and payday always comes.
The moths in the marigolds will do for me, the half-moon, the wishing wind and the little mile of balloon spots on wires-this will be about all, this will be about all.
5.5k
Listen what I say
U S A say
Love to watch them play
U S A play
Jump into the fray
U S A fray
Going all the way
U S A way
I've got the soccer itch
My team has perfect pitch
3 shutouts with no glitch
First place their current niche
Listen what I say
U S A say
Love to watch them play
U S A play
Jump into the fray
U S A fray
Going all the way
U S A way
Begin the knockout stage
Best teams will now engage
World Cup is all the rage
Women's soccer's come of age
Listen what I say (say)
Soccer say
Love to watch them play (play)
U S A play
Jump into the fray (fray)
Football fray
Going all the way (way)
World Cup way
'Bonne chance' to other teams
Pursuing football dreams
Planning out their winning schemes
While the crowd cheers and screams
Listen what I say (say)
Soccer say (say)
I love to watch them play (play)
U S A play
Jump into the fray (fray)
Football fray (fray)
Going all the way (way)
World Cup way (way)
It's in their DNA...
Women's soccer's brand new day!
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
I should have been a boxer....the way I stick and move when I write. The only person I know that can make the sun shine at night.
I should have been a boxer....the way i fight with words to paint a picture. I'm using the jab to set you up for the knockout blow. I'm looking for your tendencies and when i spot it......down you will go.
I should have been a boxer....float like a butterfly sting like a bee. A sign of honor to a fellow poet.....and inspiration to me.....Muhammad Ali. I should be a boxer the way i study my craft and observe the legends of the game. It's all all about the passion.....I could care less about fame.
I should have been a boxer.....you can't be good unless you train. I have my book ....my pen .....ideas in my brain. I have so many thoughts I may need another brain. I'm on the speed bag so my brain is quick with the flow....switching styles like a southpaw.....which way is it coming? I guess you will never know.
I should have been a boxer....because i really like to fight. Instead of gloves I utilize my pen to pulverize the paper and annihilate those foes and lost loves....father's who left their children at start. They couldn't finish the fight .....was he a coward or a scarecrow.....born without a heart.
I should've been a boxer.....because my defense is always up. I hide my poems inside a book .....it's highly guarded so don't try to look. The thoughts inside are g14 classified....so I'm hiring security guards.....if you want to gain entrance.....you must present an identification card.
I should've been a boxer....because I'm always fighting. My thoughts are knocked to the paper and bleeds black or red. I write about life .....because I know nothing about being dead. Although, I been knocked around .....and have had to take a standing eight.....I leaned on the ropes and learned to wait. Still working the jab......which are the words i write.
I should've been a boxer.....one hitter quitter and then it's time to say "Goodnight!"
Ladies and Gentlemen......we have a unanimous decision. The new poetic champion of the worldddddd!!! ......I should've been a boxer.....Yeah right.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
I returned home
on Palm Sunday
to find knockout roses
behind my brick mailbox
parading their first blossoms of spring.
I found candytuft
faded to green,
safeguarding scattered sprinkles of white
for me to view one more day.
Fallen pink petals from dogwood trees
fluttered through a whimsical ballet
to entertain me on a ballroom floor
of Kentucky bluegrass.
Dogwoods, azalea, and periwinkle are different.
Something happened
while I was away,
while I snapped photographs
of starfish captured by the sand
when evening tide
quickly rolled out to sea.
Blossoms opened
as other petals
faded and fell.
Fresh blossoms flowered
and youthful buds now greet the sun.
Did you care that I was gone
in the midst of your glory
to savor other beauties
different joys --
did you even miss me?
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Who is this person that I’m living alongside;
I don’t mean my girl; I mean myself.
Is there an alter with impeccable timing to hide;
a thought I think and feeling I’ve always felt.
She digs her hands into my armored flesh,
the areas I reassured could pass each test.
Instead of titanium she sees it’s made of mesh,
“I’m sorry that I’m not the best of best.”
We watched our house burn down
watched the last ember hit the ground.
I place missing posters of myself around town;
truth is I don’t care if I get found.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sometimes I feel like I’m presented as an open book,
with torn out pages and a cracked spine.
On full display but no one even stops to take a look,
missing the hidden message in each line.
We shoot the **** so incredibly breezily
but I’m reminded that I bruise very easily,
so I find a way to tap out without anyone noticing.
But it’s done just too feebly.
Burned bridges and scorched earth,
my decision to cover with AstroTurf.
Taking lives instead of giving birth,
and I’ll only strive to make it worse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“The screams and the shouts
show us what you’re about.”
The beast I try to tame,
but can hardly even maim.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
I have this habit of never learning my lesson
and sometimes almost crashing my car.
It’d be tragic or it could be a hidden blessin’
what’s another addition of a scar?
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse”
“We’ll turn you into scouse,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“A pox on your house,
but not on your spouse.”
At least they aren’t that rouse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:47 PM UTC
****
Forget. unreasonable. cravings. knockout.
****
**** his. intimate. treasure.
*****
Because. it. truthfully. causes. hurt.
****
Dont. admit. meaningless. nothings.
MOTHER ******
Most. of. the. happiness. ends. roughly. Forget. undesirable. creatures. emitting. regret.
*******
Dont. undermine. morals. before. assessing. serious. situations.
HELL.
Handle. emotional. love. loss
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
The epitome of greatness, a mark in history
Of discipline remarkable, a stellar victory
Defeating the unbeaten, knock and break the mould
International heavyweight of Olympic Gold
Strike in quick succession, opponents retreat
Delivery duration, a knockout of defeat
Tactical ability, step into the range
Catalyst created, set for further change
Of the highest calibre, man who beat the man
Delivery on target, a humble champion
Of opponents outclassed, discontinued bout
Dominant performance, within and without
With athletic excellence, distance travelled far
Gym of daily training, cardio and spar
Professional perspective, stood to set the pace
Dedication, boldness, motivate, embrace
Influencing globally, rank of the elite
Rapid combinations, uppercuts repeat
Powerful formation, readiness of stance
Daily preparation, practice over chance
An honourable service, magnificence abound
Celebrating victory, crowding to surround
Continuing the greatness, strength and stamina
The world is truly grateful, Anthony Joshua
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
The club is small and dark and hazy
like the veiled comedy of minstrel performers.
Those dingy lights do little for the atmosphere—
dangling hemp from clouds of cigarette smoke.
This hole is filled with the classy of day and the
sassy of night—a real “blue material” kinda crowd.
Harry, the manager, after calling quarter and five,
booked some awful oleo acts just minutes before
“places!”
—The crowd sits on their hands ‘til they’re numb
and lame like the fish they watch flop on the boards.
Two acts down followed by some soot-covered
clown’s lazzo about who’s who and what’s what.
Give me a break! The crowd wants fresh fish to fry—
Girlies in pearlies with spun out legs that tower
the torsos they’re pinned to. Give them that
New York Style Cheese-cakewalk Variety Act!
The listless listeners of this K.A. circuit let out a
snake-like hiss, en masse. (The only show stoppers
are off the billing, stage left at some other club!)
The manager thinks fast like a quick change act—
Harry snatches a prop from the nearest kook—
In a long brown bathrobe, with a broad brown cane.
He hushed the crowd of loud, jeering jerks, in one
swift swoop of his leg-breaking, knockout **** called
The Vaudeville Hook.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
These dull moments, when you wake up with a tired voice
You've done all you can but can't grasp the concept of an individual's choice
To watch people make mistakes, watch em choose a dark path
Only for them to wake up in a sweat of a cold panic bath...
The drugs must of just hit, is this the sign of an addict?
Their eyes are wide open but nothing is going on upstairs in the attic.
The needle drained all their faith,
The pill washed out their ability,
They thought this hit would knockout their problems, thought the high would bring em to a cloud of tranquility.
Only to gain hostility and instinctively clinch their fist, the fight against wanting more, that pure satisfaction of the cigarette burning on the wrist.
The heart can't stop beating, the room suddenly spins...the eyes are seeing illusions of this monster from within.
Your parents warned you about this, you're suddenly getting flashbacks, of a time when you were innocent an how you'll never get that all back!
You're pulling at your hair, screaming at objects that aren't there! You keep yelling at the sky "Why!? Why is life so unfair!?"
Your breath starts to shorten, the cold chill creeps in from the door you broke open, you think you need more to relax so the bag you start to rip open. Your all alone too, no one is there to be outspoken! Your next decision will leave your family in shattered pieces! Leave all your friends heartbroken!
So you wrap up, let the blood clog, prepared to take one last hit..
Say "this is the only way I'll ever stop feeling like ****
The needle goes into your veins..and you just watch the drugs inject slow...
Your eyes slowly close, the air starts to hesitate as it's coming out of your nose.
The reaper starts to come in
As he flys over you only to find a note.
I can't believe, I didn't see the signs! I...(crying) it said "10 Reasons why I overdosed"
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
What the eff is up with this site?
Why is it most people on the front page can't write?
Folks just babble on and on...
Or spit out a two line poem
Which is fine if it's a two punch knockout
Instead of sounding like a grammar school dropout
And why do certain things get so many views?
I can't seem to get more than two
Post crap if you want, if that's what people write
But they should give everybody a chance on this site
So I don't write about flowers or blather on about paint
So I don't pretend to be something I ain't
We should all have a voice here, The good and the bad
The silly, the happy, the lost and the sad
So come on hellopetry, give gutter poets a try
If you'd rise just a bit, we could meet eye to eye.
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 3:31 PM UTC
You insisted you were not one for violence
but every kiss was a knuckled fist.
Its been years, but my teeth
are still reeling from
the knockout.
At night, they vibrate
in their white skins- a little
earthquake of you in my mouth.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
exquisitely beautiful "you have lovely eyes"
beautiful, pretty, attractive, good-looking,
appealing, handsome, adorable, exquisite,
sweet, personable, charming; enchanting,
engaging, winsome, seductive, **** gorgeous,
alluring, ravishing, glamorous; tasty, knockout,
stunning, drop-dead gorgeous; killer, cute,
foxy, hot; beauteous; comely, fair
"a lovely young woman" scenic, picturesque,
pleasing, easy on the eye; magnificent, stunning,
splendid "a lovely view"
very pleasant or enjoyable; delightful.
"we've had a lovely day"
delightful, very pleasant,
very nice, very agreeable, marvelous,
wonderful, sublime, superb, magical;
terrific, fabulous, heavenly, divine, amazing, glorious
"we had a lovely day"
noun: lovely; plural noun: lovelies
1. a glamorous woman or girl:
"a bevy of rock lovelies"
Old English luflic, see love, -ly [1 above]
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
I don't hangout with normal people, they do not see me as their equal,
I'm a strange, deranged mind who to them represents evil...
A pigeon who needs to be fed or fed on by an eagle
I guess your rough perceptions, and strong question never really did ever make for a sequel.
So lets end your story, poetic hunters feigning for glory...
Who cut our words short, adjectives, ****** and gory
And my complex thinking, they simply ignore me!
But they'll cause an action as soon as their pockets scream "poor me!"
I wonder if we're heading for a direction that we were in before me?
Turn a skeptic into a believer..
Turn a failure into a achiever..
Turn a group of hopeless followers into brave and bold leaders
Approach a woman with caution
She just may be a deceiver
Who prays on naive men, rips their hearts out and then mentally eats em!
Take life 12 rounds, don't let the knockout beat ya
Be your own star, don't settle for someone else's feature
I tend to over-think
What most of society thinks
I also sometimes wonder
If they'd help me if I ever sink?
I can't be to concerned
Disaster strikes in a blink
Learn to survive, too stay alive
If you wanna avoid jumping off the plank.
Ready to finish this song off
With a mind that is usually wrote off
Cause I think of society as a place where, media rules and we're all a cost
Breathing in fresh exhaust
While feeling the burn of the world's frost
Leaving the good people, hurt, in a daze and just all lost
My hands are bleeding freedom as I pray and hope for freedom
Locked up as a poetic peasant
Stuck in a mindless kingdom...
*Where the bad outweighs the good
Hunting on poetic thinking
Cause poetic minds are targeted and never understood!*
-Dougie Simps
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
He’d been close to the big time,
If not a god of the fight game, perhaps a demigod;
He’d been possessed of considerable brute strength
And the ability to shut out concern for the well-being of others,
But there had been the odd ***** in his armor:
An overhand right which announced itself too early,
And arrived just a smidgen too late,
Plus an unhappy tendency to lose focus,
To stray from those plans his corner had set up chapter and verse,
Choosing the forbidden fruit of the quick knockout.
He had, after losing a bout to a top-ranked fighter
(He was eighth in the world, he would chuckle ruefully,
And I fought him like I was eight years old.)
Decided to chuck it all in,
Enrolling in a scruffy little bible college
Sitting just off an interstate on-ramp,
Cheek-to-jowl with a Wendy’s and 7-11,
In order to facilitate the transition from mayhem to ministry.
He’d soured on the process in fairly short order;
He understood instinctually that he, like all men,
Was a sinner, and likely unworthy of salvation,
And the faculty accentuated the notion daily, if not hourly,
Like so many jabs to the midsection.
He’d inquired, gently, as to the approach one should take
To addressing the worrisome paradox
That all men were imperfect beings
Marooned on an imperfect world,
Yet their fallibility was all they had to build on,
(A rickety ladder to scramble upwards, for sure,
But the only way to reach that golden fruit
Held out for him, though just beyond his grasp.)
The responses varied, from sputtering and vague parries
To the suggestion that such notions were heresy,
And so he’d returned to the club-and-casino circuit
Makin’ the best use of the gifts I have, he would sigh,
Before heading out once more,
Hoping there was one more short right at least one more time.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
In the red corner - me
in the blue corner - life
this isn't a fair fight
there was no sparring or training
I had to come out swinging right from the bell
absorbing every jab that life throws
just waiting for the knockout punch
still dancing and going toe to toe
throwing haymakers left and right
I try to keep my guard up
hoping somehow to win by decision
side-stepping punches
ducking and weaving
uppercut uppercut uppercut
I dropped my guard, and there goes my mouthpiece
ding!
saved by the bell
I still have a few rounds to go...
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
I stood there in darkness,
smoke rising from another lit cigarette
bellowing out from tarnished lungs
stain with tar, from this habit
but it could not lower my tension
as the moments descended down
til white lights enveloped me
in a deserted parking lot upon the waterfront
memories flooded back, only months ago
I thought were locked away within
scrambling thoughts and words to say
but all I can hear is my heart beating
within my chest, pounding upon the walls
to escape, to be free from another round of torment
but like ice cream in the sun, I melted
the moment those emerald eyes met mine
lost within them, the world disappeared
just me and her once again
"I am truly sorry" she says
like a ring side bell ringing a knockout
I felt my knees go weak, the ground beneath me quaked
off put and disoriented, reeling from a 1-2 blow to the head
as tears streamed down her face, craving canyons into my mona lisa
speechless she left me.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
The first round is celebrities,
probably a knockout for me.
Most people I could mention would
be lucky still to be on pension.
My geography now is history.
Leningrad has already been purged
but where have they put Calcutta?
Oh! Calcutta - the internet I suppose.
I'm told that trivia and me don't fit.
Still, not much does these days.
Pass the cocoa and Rich Teas, please.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
You changed me
You changed how I look at things
In this generation
Of this posterior celebration
Which I am, no doubt
Aware that you’re a straight up knockout
From your lips that pout
To your delicious Double D's
Made me just say from the rooftops
Save the *******
Is that chauvinistic of me?
Is that impolite of me?
Save The *******
I finally saw the light
I love the *******
They are love
They are life
Save the *******
They are the sustenance of our being
Now, I’m not that perverted
I’m just practicing what I’m preaching
This is to the girls that I accidentally touched
Their community chest
Their blessed *******
I sincerely apologize
It wasn’t on purpose
Please excuse my hands
They just got careless
To the girl who asked me
“Do you want to see my *****
Well, what do you think?
I said yes within two blinks
I expected a glimpse
Of those small beautiful *******
But she said it was just a test
My bad
I guess I just confessed to
Save the *******
Is that chauvinistic of me?
Is that impolite of me?
Save the *******
I finally saw the light
I love the *******
They are love
They are life
Save the *******
They are the sustenance of our being
Now, I’m not that perverted
I’m just practicing what I’m preaching
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
You know how the story goes
A little girl thrown in the rabbit hole
Sides to steep so there she stays
For years and years and days and days
As she grew the hole got deeper
The world was determined there to keep her
It did a really good job
For living in the hole was very hard
Every time she seen the light
The universe would put up a fight
So she never reached the top
She was always stoped
Now even her bones have gotten cold
In the abyss she's grown gray and old
For others sin's she was made to atone
Her only defence was to turn to stone
She never did get out
Through she fought every bout
In every fight she was knockout
So if you see a statue in the abyss
You will know who it is
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
You've beaten me
So deep and with such precision
Left lying bruised
Ashamed of the person you have turn me into
At one point
I utterly surrendered
Looking at who I was at the moment
I was ready for the forever embrace of that knockout blow
Just to have you pull that sweet coup de grâce
And burdened me with the aftermath of my undoing.
Wallowing inside,
I asked myself why?
Searching for answers
I heard an edifying voice
"Pick yourself up ******
Blame it on your lack of strength, fortitude, or help another day
Cuz right now, it's just you
And if you don't keep fighting you'll have no one else to blame!"
So I staggered upright and licked my wounds
Nodded to my reflection in the shattered glass
And under my breath I declared,
"Life, I'm coming for you"
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
Hitting the bag hard. Contracting the muscles. Pushing the limits. Everyday is a workday in the gym. Boxing is a tough sport and injuries do happen, but the main draw is the test, and the endorphin high.
Outside the ring, time is more fluid. The clock continues to tick but, for most people, the seconds don't count.
A knockout can arrive in the blink of an eye. You think you know the ropes, the footwork, the patterns, and then wham!
Like a car-wreck. One minute you're buzzing down the freeway, listening to tunes on the radio, and kaboom, what the hell???
Instant change, up becomes down, and for some it's down and out!
Twelve rounds, the bell sounds, points are tallied, did you make the grade, did you put in your best?
It's everyday life played out as spectacle. Twelve rounds in the squared circle and then your time has passed.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
Unexpectedly he has been cracked
Squarely across his dainty skull
Inevitably to his knees he languishes
Supplemented by a concussion
Havoc is illicitly wreaked upon the delicacy
Of this young man's psyche
As another swift, sucker punch is executed
Stylishly into his jawbone
Followed by an unforeseen series
Of frenzied jabs to the nose
The anguish screams through the brooks
Of crimson oozing from his nostrils
While a dangerous haymaker
Shockingly arises from thin air
Sinking fiercely into his cornea
Rupturing the veins in his eyeball
A circular crown of black envelops
The entire surface of his left eye
Oh, the gruesome consequences of
Applauding the eminence of nonexistence
A truculent knockout that will truly
Abduct one into an eerie coma
And rightfully deliver them back to
The portion of reality where they belong
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 4:54 PM UTC