Best Vise Poems
My head feels like it's being squeezed in a vise. Eardrums must have blown out from the explosion since I hear absolutely nothing, not even my own breath. Slowly rising to my feet I survey the damage. Left arm gone from the elbow down. Flesh hangs from my right forearm exposing bone and sinew. I don't even want to know what my face looks like but my cheeks are burning white hot.
Suddenly, I am keenly aware of the immediate surroundings. The twenty story office building I call my second home is utterly destroyed. Smoke and haze are everywhere. An acrid odor fills my nostrils with each breath. Scanning the vicinity I see body parts strewn about. The urge to vomit overwhelms me. Afterward, I begin to shake and sob uncontrollably. My God, why?
Home is five blocks away. My wife, my daughter are they alive? No idea how many bombs were dropped. Must get home. Each step brings excruciating pain, but the adrenalin pulsing through my veins impels me forward. Finally reaching my neighborhood, it quickly becomes evident that it too was targeted. Rubble and debris surrounds me. In the distance, what was my house, leveled to the ground. The cries, the screams of others sifting through the debris make me question my sanity did my hearing return or are the screams in my head?
Reality sets in coldly as I discover the bodies of my family, partially buried under the rubble. I have no more tears in this moment. Instead, my mind drifts back to former days happy times. Myself, Najwa and baby, lying in our back yard on a comfy blanket, staring up at the stars, watching the fireflies softly flicker in a dreamy, summer night sky. We had peace then. Now there is nothing but bitterness and hatred in my heart. I gaze at the sky, now black as sin. All the stars are there. But the fireflies they're gone. I can't help but wonder, what will become of me?
Flicker flicker fly
Stars above to light the sky
Angels weep goodbye
How populated this lonely world often feels
with so much warm flesh living cold and stony.
Some days, we ache for someone to hold us,
smile into our eyes like they wholly know us.
As humans, we talk and talk our searching words
though others grasp only their perceptions heard
and live unaware that their walls thus occurred.
Hearts all desire an embraced soul revealing
of where’s and why’s behind the how’s they’re feeling.
Such tries manifest puffed effects, sky floating
on breezes society contaminates with
numbing subliminal fears to which we succumb.
All emphasized in society’s vise pounds
false perceptions that comfort some lives,
allowing them to safely hide in boxed alibis
where their dreamy feelings lay to perhaps die.
Deep is our need to be known and understood
as a person of unique meaning and worth.
Seems to me, hearts may be seeking in blurred rote
for meanings rarely clear after emotions smoke.
Now they say that girls are made of sugar
And spice, but good girls finish last my friend.
For there is one truth for all women kind,
Come hell or high water we will fight
For our right to indulge ourselves in
The need for perfections greatest
Confections, COOKIES!!!
Yes we will take down that cookie
Puppet clown, dressed in blue,
For there is no fiercer monster known
To man, then a women who’s cookie
Faddish is left unsatisfied.
Peanut butter to chocolate chip,
Just pass the milk and watch out dude,
For women shall be the first to dip.
Call us the two fisted women of the
Raw dough generation, we don’t
Really care, just pass grandma’s old
Cookie jar.
Roll me down the bakery sweet,
No fragrance smells finer then freshly
Baked what ladies, COOKIES.
Sugar me sweet it’s the ladies favorite
Treat, by the bucket or truck load it can’t
Be beat, frosted or plain, it matters not,
But without Milk its sacrilege that is
No doubt!!
Now chocolate maybe the vise five to
Seven days a month, but cookies rule
As the male race drools, because honey
There is no doubt women will take you
Don’t for what, lets all say it ladies around
The world, all together now, SAY WHAT
COOKIES!!!!!!
By the way did I tell you my favorite
Food in the world, of course it’s very
Obvious, COOKIES!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO POET DESTROYER
And to all women
……Somewhere a lone survivor of a plane crash
A man of sound and reason
standing tall and proud.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to break out.
Delusions like a serpent,
coiling in his brain,
Paranoia like a venom,
oozing from his core.
Twisting truth and logic,
driving him insane.
The world a hostile army,
waging endless war.
Dissociation like a vise,
squeezing his soul tight,
A mirror of identity,
shattered into shards.
Lost within the maze,
his selfhood out of sight.
The pieces of his being,
scattered near and far.
Psychosis like a demon,
dancing in his mind,
The music of madness,
playing its eerie song.
Illusions like a spider,
weaving webs to bind.
As his grip on sanity,
was slowly being wronged.
Not working…..
He found a radio, a possible voice of hope and light.
…..Working
Then a change of course,
a turn of fate’s design,
A mind once plunged in madness,
now rising to the fight.
From blackness to brightness,
a force of hope divine.
An ascent from affliction,
a story of great might.
As his grip on sanity was
slowly being restored,
Illusions like a spider
weaving webs to break.
The music of madness
playing its final chord.
Psychosis like a demon
dancing in his wake.
The pieces of his being
scattered near and far,
Lost within the maze his
selfhood comes to light.
A mirror of identity
shattered into stars.
Dissociation like a vise
squeezing his soul bright.
The world a hostile army
waging endless peace.
Twisting truth and logic
driving him to sane.
Paranoia like a venom
oozing from his fleece.
Delusions like a serpent
coiling in his mane.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to fade out.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt?
A man of sound and reason standing tall and proud?
A lone survivor of a plane crash……
Listening to a piece of great music
One delights
The flow
From Major to minor and
As one goes from ecstasy to tears
Tears to ecstasy
In those lengthy spaces of harmonious wandering
One becomes aware
Aware of certain priceless moments
Points in Paradise
Along the wheel
Those sparkles
Those darkles
Those conflicting emotionals
Color the whole
Travel the veins
Like strong red wine
Hold a body a mind vise-like
Lifting
Soaring and
On and on
At last the work is over
One thinks
Why does such majesty have to end?
Only the fondest strains remain in memory
Then
One realizes at last
This must be like the good life’s end
Lying there
The few or the many cherished moments
Entering
Joys
Tragedies resolve
Major to minor
With bright points
Like evening stars…………………………….
And
Finally
One yields to that long white decrescendo
Logically logic can be logic
And vise a verses a
If you are not logical
Then you lack logic
Doesn’t this sound logical?
It’s logical not to go 80mph in a 55mph zone
If you do then you are not logical
You then have what is called: dumb logic
It’s logical to fill your lungs with air
Filling them with ANY type of smoke means
You have dumb logic and lack logic, I have dumb logic, lol
Logic is knowledge and common sense
It’s logical to kiss your wife hello and goodbye
This is a no brainier
If she ever asks you: How does my make-up look
There is no good answer
If she asks, do I look fat is this dress
NEVER SAY YES!!
That's Logically deadly if you say yes!
There is a simple fact very few of you see
I’m as alive as alive can be.
I start at the mountains and I end at the sea,
Life is abundant inside of me.
MY life begins by the melting of snow and ice.
My rapids are guilty of taking life.
This saddens me deeply and it hurts my soul,
Murder wasn’t meant to be my goal.
I once had the freedom to plot my own course
Now, I’m full of sad remorse.
There are many demons who have altered my life
Left me full of heartache and strife.
They have built huge structures to alter my way
Creating places for them to play.
It also provides them with energy they need,
Evil demons full of greed.
Salmon swim up inside me to spawn far as they can go
Life and death struggles in my ebb and flow.
Forever altered, I can’t believe these demons can’t see
I’m the mother of all inside of me.
They dump their poison without any remorse at all
As entire species get sick and fall.
Now, I’m sad to say they have gone way too far
Clouds no longer block out the stars.
The earth is getting warmer and warmer each year.
The sky is dry and void of tears.
As the world heats up because of your choices
Mother Nature hears our voices.
She is the mother who cares for one and all
Its time you humans should fall.
As I run dry and have no choice, but to succumb to death
What will you do with no water left?
No more power generated from your mighty stations,
Creating another great human migration?
With no more animals left on earth to kill for sport,
Will starvation be your final resort?
I was once a mighty river full of a million dreams
Now I’m reduced to a trickling stream.
Your farmer’s wells are starting to run completely dry
As you all argue the reason why.
Climate change is nothing, but another hoax you say,
In the end our mother will make you pay.
Drought in the west with mighty storms in the east,
Mother’s vengeance is a powerful beast.
The situations you created through the webs you’ve spun
Create untold hurricanes and blistering sun.
There is a simple fact of this poem that is nothing nice;
All life on earth will pay for your vise.
I’m now broken and void of all my happiness it seems
I’m now just “The River of Broken Dreams.’
He waited
Under fluorescent lighting
The kind that highlighted
His salt and pepper hair
It was almost 5:30
Quitting time
But he didn’t have to worry about that anymore
Today was his last day
The people in the office took him out to lunch
Had a round of drinks
Opened a few cards
Hugged one of the secretaries
Felt pretty good about himself
But what next?
Adjusting his glasses he looked straight ahead
The tools on his workbench
Grimy
Cold metal
After twenty years still usable and dependable
Pliers, screwdrivers
Lined up in front just the way he organized them
Some lost
Some borrowed but eventually all returned
He wondered if he would miss holding the hefty hammer
The one with the smooth maple handle?
There was nothing more to do
Would he bring his tools home?
Or come back for them later?
Rubbing his hands
To keep his fingers moving
He lingered at his bench
Until it was time to leave
A day’s pay for a day’s work
That what his father told him
Back when.
Put off the final decision
To retire as long as he could
When he signed the papers
It felt like somebody lifted him up
And put him in another life
Careful with money
Saved all these years
With Social Security
He and his wife hoped it would be enough
To see them through.
Enough thinking
It was time to leave
Waving to a few co-workers
He walked out
The shop door closing behind him
Brick building
Casting its large shadow behind him
Outside it was the usual scene
Busy streets
Crowded coffee shop
Sounds of buses and traffic
In a hurry to get somewhere.
This time it was different
A cold chill of exhilaration
Gripped him in a vise of uncertainty
He couldn’t believe he
Was walking away
From decades of
What was once familiar
And part of him.
Have you ever thought back and remembered a time,
when poor judgment nearly cost you… your prime.
There were fifty-22 cal bullets in the ammo box I found,
mishandling Remington’s bullets… could put you in the ground.
Putting the box in my pocket, thinking what should I do?
Squeeze off one in the barnyard vise… or maybe do two.
BANG! BANG! Loud reports and pungent gunpowder did abound.
How addictive that fragrance… 48 more lay waiting on the ground.
The next five/six bullets went into holes on the lip of the vise,
swinging that heavy sledgehammer… really felt nice.
Each bullet exploded leaving its’ brass case in the steel.
The heavy sledgehammer gave lead… no mortal body to feel.
BANG! BANG! BANG! The shells reported in rapid succession.
Used everyway possible firing all the bullets… in my possession.
50 times in a row I cheated death and great bodily harm.
God knows he was more than patient… that day on the farm.
* A true story. © 2010 John M. Trusty
VISION
IF I GET DEEP EVOLVE YOUR
VISIONARY OUTLOOK..
ALL THINGS ARE RELEVANT
LIKE
BATS AND RADAR
AND SYNCHRONIZED CYCLES
DECODE
WHAT IS ENCODED IN YOU.
KNOW AGAIN-WHAT YOU
ONCE
KNEW
EVOLVE TO WHAT YOU
ONCE
KNEW
KNOW THAT YOU KNOW
JUST REMEMBER- RE-COLLECT
YOUR ORIGINAL
VISION
RE RE RE RE RE RE RE-RE
RE-CALL-RE-VISE-RE-VISION
RE-PAIR
IMPAIRED VISION
RECLAIM KNOWLEDGE
INVOLVE YOUR MEMBERS
EVOLVE
RE-NEW.
Preparing his conference speech
Old man ended up on nude beach
By virtue or vise
He stuck his device
In each blowhole he could reach
AWAKENING
Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell
12 DELIRIA
1st Delirium: Collapses
Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice
2nd Delirium: Descents
Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted rum
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb
3rd Delirium: Fates
Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks
continued in part 2
“What is this strange place we find ourselves in
Trapped in the open, we are free within.”
Perhaps a more interesting question we should ask...
If freedom can be won, how do we consummate the task?
Can it be found in a world that seems determined to drown?
Is this peculiar place we reside the reason why we frown?
And what of the blank faces that stare with blinded eyes?
Are they merely masked to hide their fear in disguise?
Questions without answers leave us emotionally trapped.
Gob smacked of our free will and impotent to adapt
to the truth that is incapable of setting any of us free
to live in an orderly place, without the need for a referee.
Oh, to live without turmoil and riots, or wars for any cause,
where neighbors are friendly. Give that thought a pause.
Each crisis is becoming more like a game of jackstraws,
only adding to the tension and the unsheathing of claws.
What an oppressive dystopia we now find ourselves in,
where everyone holds a grenade, threatening to pull the pin!
It's often been said that the cost of freedom is a high price,
but no one can escape if we're held in the jaws of a vise.
September 19, 2022
Your Second Chance 2Nd Submission: Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
N/A'd in April 2022
Contest "The Matrix" sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Angry fists pommel a defiant face;
racial slurs punctuating each bruised eye.
And as punches start to increase in pace,
a black man collapses; then boots let fly.
I've seen hate.
The needle twitches while injecting death;
instead of a high, you slip into shock.
And overdosing, you're gasping for breath,
drowning in your vomit while strangers gawk.
I've seen fear.
Staring at the past as it disappears;
having lost your home, you live on the street.
And that vacant look lingers past the tears
as you sacrifice pride and face defeat.
I've seen sad.
When an injured soldier cries out in pain,
a medic responds, undeterred by fear.
And his uniform is a blood-soaked stain;
as he tends to the wound, then drags him clear.
I've seen brave.
Icy currents grip the boy like a vise;
immediately, his mother jumps in.
And when frantic rubs no longer suffice,
she warms him up next to her naked skin.
I've seen love.
An infant is born an innocent dove;
with skin so soft it almost seems to melt.
And triggering unconditional love,
this babe embodies feelings deeply felt.
I've seen hope.
Ain't it rather ironic that "global warmists" got marooned in the ice!
Their Russian ship was held fer days as firm as a carpenter's vise!
A couple of other ships came to their rescue and also got stuck!
Sans the aid of the good ol' US of A, they'd a-been outta luck!
Egg-head perfessors keep sayin' that Antarctica is rapidly thawin'!
I ain't so sure 'bout that and I git mighty tired of their incessant jawin'!
Seems there's more ice than ever fer the hordes of penguins to savor.
Perhaps "warmists" could find more productive things to do, doing us all a favor!
Can't blame the big freeze on cows fer their emission of methane flatulation!
Wonder how Al Gore is gonna spin this awkward situation?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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