Best Jabbing Poems
More interesting the way you wrestle
never meaning hurt..
flirting.., with a skillfull mind
and matching tongue.
Twice as agile your swift feet, gleeful toes,
play like little lady fingers, jabbing,
bobbing and weaving in the morning sun.
What a change I witness when the gloves come off
colors raised in stormy impassioned eyes.
So many dimensions,
when you go hard..
even more uncovered..
when you go soft.
Light coral shaded lips,
paler still long neck, brimming in fire.
how the veins sing to me..
though quietly now,
grow insistent.
Getting close, like a creature
not used to light.
A waterfall effect lost
in finest peach hair fields, many
curves and valleys explored
in mosquito nets of night.
Endlessly curious to know,
what a fighter wants..
what a fighter needs,
in love.
Return now from the ropes to knock me off.
My eyes anxiously await a detente
when yours turn soft.
A poem unlived
is a poem merely written --
sustenance our words
let the body digest with heartfelt
regurgitation – a poem unlived
is a poem merely written
as well as tasty center, a healthy chew
needs skin-like peachy, tickly sensation,
emotive mastication – best often
lost when discarding fussy peelings
also feelings
a poem unlived is a poem merely written
endless editing...crumblings tossed
our salads before the main course
heavily garnished
each poem with a dipping
thread link – we warm at
the lava lip...deep, glowing
convulsing start, long before the page is stirred,
shaken – ready for bubbly tip
a poem unlived is a poem merely written
the sea we sail both tranquil and rage
creation an unkempt voyage of possibilities,
a nameless work rocks back and forth
cradled it longs to escape wild fluctuation
and transverse,
seeking theme and form – sanguine
transfusion, repetitively jabbing for fluid release
we call upon the mariner, captain, surgeon of
ancient crafts -- muse of many incarnations,
sage, fool of countless courts – both wallflower
and dancer – homebody and restless prancer, where
we have been and yet beam
to go – uniquely fermented we uncork
for a spotlight blow, for grand revelation
introduced with a toast, a click, a sparkly
crystal glow
staging both our fond darkness and
light – an author preparing to take
literary flight
a poem unlived
is a poem merely written --
like stopped midstream
without a river flow, banks
turned away
tepidly applauding….
A stagnant sip before the
moved-by lauding….
Though poetically smitten
dearly kittened
a poem unlived
is a poem merely written...
A silk sheet of black covers my head while I am sleeping and seeps into my skin,
Reaching my brain and interrupting dreams that are far from reality’s reach.
Slowly, surely, on soft feet.
Creeping up on me, unexpected.
Chasing me through dark forests that once held flowers without thorns and birds that sang on the many Sunday mornings of spring.
Heels sinking into weak, helpless soil as it gives in to the pressure that pounds upon it again and again like a never ending migraine.
Toes scratched and bleeding from sharp, jabbing rocks that hide themselves and wait for their next victim,
And leave them with scars to line their flesh.
At night the hurt will sit with their legs crossed tight underneath them as if they are protecting them,
And their cold fingers will trace the scars upon their toes
Over and over
In a rhythm, a melody of sorts that only sounds beautiful when it can be understood by the ones who know it best.
I turn corners and pass trees that loom over me,
Old and wilted,
Threatening to fall on top of me and crush me
So I am molded into the ground below it,
And no one will find me because no one cares about the trees that fall,
Or the plants that die,
So why would they look under the fallen tree to find another girl,
Lost and thrown away in the process of trying to run away?
They chase me still as I run so fast that my legs want to detach themselves from my body and leave me lying limp.
Leaves fall into my hair and the thought to pull them out does not occur to me as the soil squishes between my toes, the wind stings my eyes and ears.
Every time I look down,
Beneath me seems to blur,
and I cannot see any of the branches that threaten to trip me as they know what I am running from.
I will fall and be stuck as weeds wrap around my ankles and wrists and prevent me from rising back up,
They will hold me down as if I am a child throwing a temper tantrum,
Restricting me from kicking and screaming.
They want it to catch me and take me away,
To conquer me,
Control me.
But maybe,
In a way that is unknown to me,
A plague that infects my body piece by piece,
Maybe it already has taken over.
Lost Love
Leaning on my PC, I find
Another place – another time.
Where you were everything in my past
And my memories are not lasting
The distance I discern in your voice
Jabbing the love – you still my choice,
The fantasy of yes, golden times
When we cuddled side by side.
Now inside I cry because I woe,
Your heart is pulling away to go,
I pray for patience that somehow you know
That I love you always, my dearest soul
Tho, you are drifting into another time
I hold you tightly in my heart and mind.
Preening, posing, mouths always in motion
jabbing your fingers high in the air
Shouting and yelling, and screaming an ocean
of high-intensity rubbish and verbal warfare
O, progressive politicians, you make my day
you never let fiscal reality get in your way
You cut dashing figures in your pin-striped suits ~
as your 'tax-base' you fleece and you loot
Whats going on with Russell Brand? Over six million
Followers have penchant, he was once a man i did
Not admire..Yet over two years it has transpired Brand
Has burnt a brand, a searing line through mainstream
Medias fervid minds, though they'll rant and pant and
Roll the dice..Its not about whether Brant is nice.'
We know his past of women and wild, nights and drugs
And other vice.' Yet then no problems all was well, of no
Rape assertions did the media tell, no police statements
No interest true.' So like Julian Asange whats the real
To-do.? There's lots about Letby and some hospital dead?
Babies sadly we've read thats mainstream, covered.' They've
fired
Real heavy lead.'
And yet the number of wounded and dead, from jabbing
With m n r a..? Well they've seldom said.' Its mainly the
Green gods agenda they speil.' They feed out a line to
The people and then they reel' not as in real! You may
Understand, and genocide is just a word.' Do they have
It banned.? Not among the balanced sensible folk but
Among the zany, menageri of the most uncouth woke.'
Twelve rounds of excitement
Two rivals smiling in the middle of enchantment
The bell rang...
Both fighters were wild
Two rough hands still mild
The bell rang again -- end of first round.
Second round...
Gaiting horses, eluding kicks and punches
Baiting bodies, protruding hunches
Third round...
Fighters in merry-go-round
Hide and seek on square ground
Fourth round...
Faces smearing, eyes rolling
Bodies perspiring, allies chanting
Fifth round...
Feet hovering, foot work disintegrated
Temperature rising, hard punches connected
Sixth round...
Audience clapping; boxers hitting
Attacks jabbing, gloves slugging
Seventh round...
Whacking arm follows, gloves batting
Ulnar bone gallows, heads swatting
Eighth round...
The champ fighter grinning, nailing one hard scour
Second fighter fainting, flailing above the litted floor
Ninth round...
Stronger fighter grinning again with right hook
Left hook thrashing, down the second fighter of blind look
Tenth round...
Challenger flogging, kept on rising
Challenger pelting, the champ fell on floor gasping
Eleventh round...
Both warriors pummeling, whipping, jostling
Switching, clubbing, lashing, drubbing
Both fighters fell on adulated white floor
Before the ninth count both warriors stood tall
on wrestled floor
Twelfth round...
Last two minutes of peppering round
Both fighters staggering until the challenger dropped first and gaunts.
Champ still standing, waiting for the ten counts...
Last twenty five seconds of the final round,
First fallen fighter with a bigger heart stands
Champ dropped on his knees --
Laid flat on aproned, famed canvass
Ten counts numbered as confetti lands...
The winner and challenger standing in the corner, beaten and bruised
Bleeding profusely after winning a dream never cruised.
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
On the patio I can see the chameleons
Their necks so red with lust
On the wind the green parrots
Call to one another hoping for a place to rest
The sky is orange and deep purple with the last whispers of light
Twisting the orange peel in my drink thinking of how I felt
About all those days we missed, before we saw the truth
A home in the South of France with all that money could afford
Yet we were so distant like prizefighters circling in the ring
Looking for a weakness and then jabbing in for the kill
It was painful for both of us, but my God the kids
What would they have learned from such broken people?
We were once so much in love that nothing could tear us apart
Living in Jakarta in a one room windowless flat
Even that could not discourage us from a love that always bloomed
We strolled in hot humid afternoons dreaming of better days
I wiped the perspiration from your brow, you laughed in that silly way
The days tumbled by the children came, we were always so very happy
Time took its toll and jobs, like the seasons went round
Till one day we realized that we were no longer
We tried to make it work, for the sake of the kids, but it was a lost cause
Even they knew that we were hiding a truth so profound.
The lawyers came and took what they could and left us with the rest.
There was no malice between us as we smiled, resting gently
In each other arms, hoping for a miracle before we were gone.
Now, it's the morning of the rest of our lives. I ask you if you want coffee
Your look is causal as you say, “If only you had asked me that twenty years ago I would have known what to say.” And so it goes the things we forgot to ask are the things that will haunt us to the very, very end.
(thanks to KA for being so generous)
Sorrow weeps, small happiness creeps
Remorse afloat, in my silk coat
Emptiness appears, silence leers
Fading shadow, far below
Begging forgiveness, lots of emptiness............
Cemented dreams, gone to extremes
Song of despair, not knowing I care
Tears grabbing, hands jabbing
Wisps of cries, light up the sky..............
Eyes pleading, heart bleeding
Passion is no more, try to ignore
Breath held, try to expel
Life is gone, not so brawn............
Holding lifeless, so breathless
Sobs of redemption, seize upon preemption
Full fledged devastation, marks no exemption
Temptress aching, no remaking.......
The Disillusion Oh Me....
Brooke Dylan 2014
Eight inches of snow saw no hat on his head
an act of derring-do, my father said,
He ascended the steps
the eyes of the world upon him
An orator attacking the lectern
~ Camelot, out to shatter Babylon
The glare of the sun no match
for the glint in his eye
Brisk winds no challenge
to the stylish coif he held high.
He measured the moment
took a deep breath
Out came an aria
~ nary a shibboleth
Tall and straight, he stood
erect as a soldier
firing words like bullets
targeting the mind's heart, to pull it
jabbing the air with his fist or his finger
pausing ever so briefly
~ he let the message linger
He moved us, he touched us,
lifted a nation's heart
without sham or deceit
~ only truth from his lips
did ever depart
He proposed the Peace Corps
to inspire the young--
For those older and wiser
he combined graciousness
with toughness
in a diplomatic
sharp-edged tongue
To Nikita Krushchev, the Soviet,
baring his claws,
Our leader's barbed-wire message
surely gave pause:
"Let us remember...
...sincerity is always subject to proof
Let us never negotiate out of fear.
But let us never fear to negotiate."
And to all 180 million Americans watching
in person or on the tube
~ He issued this challenge
destiny ringing, resonant rendezvous:
"Ask not what your country can do for you
ask what you can do for your country."
It's now 55 years later
and America's not seen
a President like Kennedy
~ to inspire us to dream
The chains of freedom
A fire burning in my hands
A societal lie made by heavy pockets
Of extremists like the Nazis
Jabbing whatever they want , where ever they want
For any reason they find plausible
A belief so heavily inflicted that it makes us forget out pasts
Our purpose and our right to exist as humans
You can use your voice to scream but you are mute
Even the loudest voice becomes no more than a whisper
When in the shadow of fear
A shadow that creeps upon me
When i am alone, i know i am next
A subtle premonition of the chaos to come
Porcelain dolls hanging from the ceiling
Wearing red and cherry white
But their hair to soft to be toys
And their skin to warm to be fake
Strung up with crosses marked on each of their faces
When the bell rings
A distant chime of terror digs their graves and yet they can not run
The smell of putrid among us and rotting flesh
Frozen by the sense of lingering despair
My road is predetermined by those before me
Lead me to be hung up on a pillar like one of my sisters
Up i go
The world i see as life escapes me is bittersweet
It was quite an adventure. I never had sailed.
Appearances looked like the last trip had failed.
“That rickety old thing? Ya’ sure it will float?”
Nodding my friend said, “Don’t call it a boat.”
We sat in the back as his Dad came up top.
He was dressed like a pirate. I felt my jaw drop.
Wielding a sword, his clothes were so cool.
He was twisting and jabbing as if in a duel.
“What’s going on?” I asked with concern.
My buddy said, “Watch, pay attention and learn.
He thinks he’s the Captain, that this is his ship.
Listen-up, or it could be a very long trip.”
My eyes were wide open as he tucked in his sword.
This might be a journey I could not afford.
“Arrrr…, fresh blood,” he said pointing at me.
“Are ye brave enough, boy, to sail the high sea?”
I cautiously nodded responding, “Yes sir!”
He then threw me a coat, why I’m not sure.
He leaped towards the cabin taking hold of the wheel.
His eye-patch and peg-leg looked pretty darn real.
“Shiver me timbers and spindle me toes.
Nubs to the wind, which way dar she blows?
You’ll swab up them decks and dust off them planks.
Ahoy ye scoundrels now scrub out ‘dem tanks.”
“Clean out the gallows and hoist up that mast,
I feel a storm brewing, It’s coming in fast.
We seek buried treasure, medallions and pearls,
cast off this island and straighten them curls.
Avast ye mates, ye stench of the earth,
we’ll fight to the death whatever it’s worth.
Keep an eye out for crocs. Be ready to shoot.
Be wary of pirates, they be after our loot.”
Crashing through waves like butter through steel,
the seduction of danger was casting appeal.
When this incredible journey was finally done,
I said, “Thanks for the ride in your boat, it was fun.”
Suddenly the veins in his eyes turned to red.
My friend shook his head exclaiming, “You’re dead.”
He wielded his sword like a Samurai Knight.
I said, “Captain, I don’t think you heard me just right.
If you thought I said boat, you misunderstood.
I said … thanks for the coat, it fit me real good.”
He then patted my head, put his weapon away.
My friend said, “Nice save, you can live one more day.”
Acing awesome atomic axel jumps
Baffling backflips and butterfly jumps
Completing camel spins and cross strokes
Dance jumps, dance lifts and death spirals
Eclipsing extensions and edge jumping
Fearless heights for fan spirals and flying spins
Gracefully gliding across galactic ice
High-handed hydroblading holiday headliners
Icebreaking intensity involving idealistic idols
Jagged jump jabbing combos and sequences
Kicking back killer knockout maneuvers
Landing leg wraps and laudable lasso lifts
Music momentum for mirror skating moves
Negotiating nifty new nimble numbers
Orchestrating an opening outrageous act
Performing in front of passionate patrons
Quantum quality quadruple jumps
Rehearsed till radically racy and riveting
Striving for split jumps and split twists spread eagle
Traveling toe step and throw loop and triple flips
Winter gymnastics on ice eagerly awaited year to year
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!