My knuckles are raw from the cold subway pole,
and the guy next to me smells like damp wool and cheap coffee.
He’s staring at a cracked phone screen,
his thumb scrolling past headlines, dinners, divorces.
We don’t talk.
Nobody talks here.
But under his heavy black winter coat,
somewhere behind his lint-covered tie,
a small fist of muscle is slamming against his ribs.
Thump.
It’s a clumsy, desperate noise,
like an old radiator knocking in a basement.
It keeps time against the black tunnel outside the window,
a persistent thudding negotiation with the dark
that just asks for enough time to get to Tuesday.
We walk around pretending we own the sidewalk,
worrying about the rent, the teeth that need fixing,
the text message left on "read."
Every wet breath is a lease renewal
signed in the dark without our permission.
I look at the girl across from me,
her eyeliner smudged from a long shift.
Her chest rises.
The cold world looks the other way,
indifferent,
and lets her have another minute to figure it out.
It’s not a grand design.
It's just a truce.
A messy, fragile truce,
kept alive by a pound of red meat
stubbornly refusing to stop hitting the wall.
With the colors of that sunset,
a slight shiver hits my bloodstream.
Following darkness like a dream,
facing fiends I am the true threat.
Do I speak the truth? Place your bet.
Skill feeds on punches and distress.
The best version reigns I confess,
my sincere grin greets each new foe.
Never one to walk on tip toe,
lethal is my match I’m fearless.
Taking my pills
Because I want to heal
So I can live in peace
For so many years of tears
Many are tears of hurt
But some tears of joy
Because we never expected love
Being named villain for so long.
Great is the suffering of a man
When he's not winning
Greater is his suffering
When he has nothing or nobody
For it's not easy to live with nothing
But nothing last forever
The question is
How can a man make it through without a pull?
When you doing your best
But still get nothing
How do you face this test
When you can't even eat or rest
Do we starve and die for our dreams
Or we live, endure, so we can enjoy it?!...
As time ticks, the outside woven souls make up our world.
I am in an impregnable world, quite challenging and competitive.
The sun casts shadows through the large windows upon the large study,
where I sit behind my desk, exposing the darkened room.
Trying to ignore the piles of unopened bills.
Feeling overwhelmed, looking at a letter stamped “Final Notice.”
I opened and read it, wishing it would disappear.
The bank's final repossession notice.
Feeling in a downward spiral shell, praying to be rescued.
I put in as many hours working to make everything go right,
but it was just not enough.
Finding myself reaching the nadir of my despair,
I knew now my emotions were hard to conceal.
Reflecting on the beginning, I thought it would be easy;
I was mistaken.
Whispering,
"Lord, if it is your will, please help guide me in this crushing storm I'm in,
and bring the calm of the waves' embrace."
12/1/2025
My past was like a red balloon
It inflated yet burst too soon
The air dispersed without a boon
And it echoed my afternoon
My blissful days seemed like a cake
But sweetness became overbaked
The aftertaste could never slake
As moments were just underbaked
Yet days and nights remain my gift
Of life that brings lasting uplift
Even if candles fade and drift
My fire ignites through snowdrift
Though balloons may burst in distress
And cakes may unleash bitterness
My soul with Him dwells in wholeness
And my heart blooms forth in pureness
Damsel in distress seeking knight
Muffled cries resound from distant castle tower
~ haunting pleas on moonless night
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
On my plate, I get to taste new things,
Every day—flavors that life brings.
Sometimes it's healthy, sometimes a mess,
At times I bloom, at times—distress.
I feel ruptured, torn apart,
When it’s finally my turn to start.
Oh! The fight between my heart and mind,
Oh! The silence and the violence entwined.
For ease, we chase some clever trick,
Like knowing "ominous" means an "ill omen" quick.
But the peace we find—doesn’t truly stay,
It feels more haunting than lighting our way.
A continuity of emotions, a stream of desire,
We wear them daily—our soul’s attire.
Colors fall and echo a subtle truth:
To win as a learner, not as a brute.
I’ve seen birds fly from morning to dusk,
To feed their young with love—not just as a task.
Struggles can bloom into moments of joy,
If love is the reason, not pressure to deploy.
That night
with a warm, bitter scent,
I watched the sad sky.
Your footsteps echoed far away,
and your hand, like mist—
I couldn’t touch it, only feel it;
but you were already gone.
You taste like goodbye.
Blue Cheese and Old Pickles Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish
A dish of disappointment
mocks the kitchen chef
two anomalies sitting on his cutting board
all in their glory, dumbfounded
... and unappetizing
plated for aliens and not humans
or for a horse that doesn’t know better
this recipe’s giving him the blues and he’s seeing red
where …
his yellow brick road has two strangers today
two lost food groups
arriving earlier in hearses
a funeral procession
mythically carrying the deceased to his kitchen foyer
… some blue cheese and an old dill
that are down for an undressing
of his bitter words
like, fudge, where’s the beef
… or better yet Mars is up there
as a cloud of despair hovers over the kitchen
not a spaceship as one might think
darkness begetting light
salt, pepper and garnishes spooked
… a ready barf bag crashes this meal
Amazing, breathtaking, charismatic damsels
ensnaring fierce, gallant heroes into jaded knights
languishing malingerers, nincompoops,
ostracized plebeians.
Question rises surely then—
Undeniably verily, why?
Xenial yeomanly zeal!
Distress
Miracle Man
1/13/2025
Why should you worry?
Worry doesn’t solve problems.
Seek God for your peace.
The click of the lock
The turn of the key
My palm on his cock
The moan of our kiss
I heard the fall of his belt on the floor
For a moment I forgot I am poor
"This is why you are my favorite"
He said as he sank into me in the dead of the night
For him, it was a passionless adventure of just cooling off
For me, it was an anticipated emotional and passionate adventure not just for cooling off
I am not an Operating System
But he saved my number as OS-3
How do I make him understand
I no longer want to be seen as an Oloso by him?
©ABSOL
you can't turn me on and off
like a lightswitch
i don't work that way
you're hot you're cold
you're unpredictable
it's wearying to live in limbo
i'm the elastic that's been stretched
till it can give no more
my compass has lost its north
i no longer know what i feel
if anything at all
i'm the candle without a wick
i'm spent and empty
hollow and fake
i smile but my eyes don't lie
the eyes never lie
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Unfinished business, it's causing me distress,
A connection so strong, yet full of stress.
Speaking through glances, so hard, I’m dead,
Harder because I can’t get through to your head.
If only I had been a little braver,
I could have made "something" into a matter.
Even if your heart belonged to another,
It’s your love that I am after.
But now it's too late, there is no rewind,
A dream left a dream, difficult to find.
It feels like an ending, a love never begun,
Just "what ifs" and regrets under the setting sun.
You'll never know the pain I feel inside,
As I lost somebody, my love needs to hide.
Although I know that you already know,
We’re both playing blind,
Yet I’m the only one in sorrow.
She was there, the wilted flower of a day gone by,
Hair in disarray, and eyes tender,
He spoke of her with passion, like one speaks of an innocent fool,
Hands trembling from having loved her blindly.
Time slipped away, a faithful companion to taciturn distress,
The sky weighed heavy, like a sullen memory,
Forever engraved on the chains of his penance.
Tears slid between each sigh of his solitude.
What remained of them were the scars of abandonment and desolation.
Blasphemies flew, fragile, clumsy,
Like ashes carried on the sturdy back of a loquacious wind,
They collided with those crumbling walls of silence.
And in a desert of sadness, amidst the mockery,
Love remained silent, discreet and cold,
Beneath a shroud of morbid regrets.
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