the bystander dutifully reading obediently
at a casement with sidearm
is competitively assuming
that our souari acreage hijacking
haliotis ostreidae alismatidae
mucilaginous lithographic osmundaceae
through ceratodontidae
in an airless helwingia
cascade from her exacum cardiographic heap
as your jeweled cuckoo awakened
into this fiendish confrontation
by enlivened catharsis
lacerate fission will scatter
you let me snuggle ?
we were restorative
but siegfried and I unite
never unturned .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
The night stood,
veiled like a nun.
Wherever she looked,
She saw a hooded assassin,
staring at her with eyes like fireballs.
Leaving aside
the unfinished works,
she curled into bed, tired.
Thoughts once dead,
of that fearful night
like spirits, from another world
came
to haunt
her once again.
They threatened to lacerate her,
in the stillness of the night.
Gagged by those ferocious demons,
of fear,
she choked
for breath.
Chained and handcuffed,
she couldn’t move.
Should she drink to the lees,
the dregs
of the bitter potion
once again?
She couldn’t wink an eye.
Like serpents
u
n
c
o
i
l
i
n
g,
fears came.
If she slept, they would strike.
So, she kept staring,
into the awful
darkness, wide eyed!
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
I really did not think this would eventuate.
But now there’s hope I will not exsanguinate,
because I feel my blood now hemagglutinate.
Remain in my blood vessels and just circulate
perfusing all my organs and accelerate
my wellbeing so I’ll not deteriorate
Instead, my condition will reinvigorate.
So, I will live another day to celebrate
the fact, that I should see another birthday date.
Not be a statistic for mortality rate
by bleeding to death, failing to resuscitate.
Please, let this be a lesson not to overstate
the survival secret one must not lacerate
an organ that could bleed out and necessitate
the need then for your blood to just coagulate
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
I really did not think this would eventuate.
But now there’s hope I will not exsanguinate,
because I feel my blood now hemagglutinate.
Remain in my blood vessels and just circulate
perfusing all my organs and accelerate
my wellbeing so I’ll not deteriorate
Instead, my condition will reinvigorate.
So, I will live another day to celebrate
the fact, that I should see another birthday date.
Not be a statistic for mortality rate
by bleeding to death, failing to resuscitate.
Please, let this be a lesson not to overstate
the survival secret one must not lacerate
an organ that could bleed out and necessitate
the need then for your blood to just coagulate
The mute sense dazed by trance adrift elusive,
never wavers a moment to lacerate
the endangered dormant psyche unwary.
Contrived by passion dream of pale possession,
sapped by nascent sunrays curtain pores suck in.
Honey-Child That Sweet-Spun Gift, You Don't Want To Miss
She cried, "Please write a sonnet that bites my butt"
Dear poet, I give you whiskey, my mouth stays shut
With that you may be lucky, I send a french kiss
Honey-child that sweet-spun gift, you don't want to miss!
In it I place marsh-mellow licks and tiger hugs
Bring you a chocolate cake with magical bugs
A fifth of devil red wine and a cigar too
No end to the sex-fun, that night things we shall do
Let sonnet lick my pretty butt, as you taste it
I will go crazy mad, I'll have a raging fit
Dear, let it rhyme and send my sexy brain aloft
Make it hotter than exploding sun and so soft
Give me romantic verses, I care not the costs
I want whole movie, in our love, I get true lost!
Poem had better be sweet as a hot peach pie.
I'll be so naked it will lacerate your eyes!
Robert J. Lindley, 16 verse sonnet
NOV. 7TH, 1973
Note:
This poem was written for my beautiful girlfriend Alisa.
But she went to California to visit her father and never came back.
So, I never gave it to her. I had forgotten about it until I found it in these poems recently I found.
“The broken pieces of our heart like shards of glass are difficult to be glued up. It needs great care and craftsmanship to mend it.” ~ By Poet
The night stood,
veiled like an assassin.
Leaving aside the unfinished works,
she curled into bed, tired.
Thoughts once dead,
like spirits, from another world
came to haunt.
They threatened to lacerate her,
in the stillness of the night.
Gagged by those ferocious demons
she choked for breath.
Chained and handcuffed,
she couldn't move.
Should she drink to the lees
the dregs of the bitter potion?
She couldn't wink an eye!
She heard someone asking
'Why should you keep alive
the past in an album
and turn its pages every now and then'?
But...she couldn't help......
Like serpents uncoiling,
memories came.
If she slept, they would strike.
So she kept staring
into the awful darkness broken and wide eyed!
The mango grove hums,
insects sing in the scratchy thrum,
the wet-lead air.
Knee-deep, the water sweats
a dark smudging fear.
We are a party of four,
four machetes,
four slouch hats,
four men looking for
reasons.
Trailing tendrils snatch at us,
lacerate skin and courage.
After a few hours
we are drained,
barely speaking
just wading our way
inwards,
all four
longing for
that tropical beach bar
and the girl
we left behind it.
He keeps trying his barrage
of raging vitriol, but it's a blunt knife
on his target's alligator skin
A predictable high school bully
with the same ol' lines of attack.
His target always sees them coming...
and the invectives inflict no pain!
The bully sharpens the blade
with each try, then slashes and stabs
in rapid succession...
but the knife never breaks his victim's skin,
and the funny thing about it is...
the bully seems to be the one bleeding!
One fine day, the boy
bravely stands up for himself
with this unvarnished truth...
"You repeatedly try to cut me open,
yet you lacerate yourself each time
you fail to break me; and you'll keep
failing, so choose your next victim!"
Bravo, kiddo, bravo!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 12,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/15/2020
Date written: 01/12/2020
enter my heart
Like liquid flowing over stone
no entrance
no exit
love rubber ed bounces
while looking in your glass dead doll eyes
The void slips in and is lost in my abyss
Broken words lacerate my soles
as i travel the missing path
my sighs count the smiles
Death the prize
and life the competition
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXII
IF you pull a long lonely face
Standing all alone near or on a busy airport flyway
Sans kith ni kin nor traffic police or friends en surplus
Hell you'll be mowed down by plane's landing gear out-lay
Now if you pull that lone long face
Since with none you can co-habit you say
Too true as that might be do as penance purchase
A man-sized mouse-trap stick neck in and pray
But if you pull long neck out to save long face
Don't blame me if by chance the spring gives way
Mouse-traps are made only for rats running in rat-race
If you want out post (on this site) your sworn statement apostasié
Yet if you pull your changed-mind long face
Take vows of celibacy eat nor enjoy flesh either way
Even as anthropophage Andromède chew on Ethiopian rock face
None'll make a shrine out of bones buried under compost pourrée
So if you must pull a lone long face
Seek not other lone long faces who pray and flay
Their backs and with cat-o'-nine-tails their face
Lacerate till Antonioni films Sophia L. with St. Francois d'Assis in Mandalay
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 22, 2019
of part one pertaining to my most recent poetic entry (Inexplicable Quirky Memory Unhinged clasp one) unintentionally got submitted twice, and rather than tamper with attempting to delete delicately, (and probably wreak greater havoc then desirable), this generic human male (meaning thy characteristics of body, mind and spirit) lumped within that general category designated as average.
this chap neither exalts in arrogance, haughtiness, orneriness...nor does emasculate, humiliate, lacerate...his being.
tis modesty i strive for despite the (all to quick to judge via initial virtual impression) predicated on my predilection to populate poems (and/or prose) with ponderous pedantic particular pun dit tree.
pain me
pain me
in
a
poem
every line
of
mine
disconnects me
here i am on this line
now look at me here
now here i am
here i am
me here
no
me
here
now
dare
time found my neck in a noise
every line i ever wrote grew an tooth
now we rest in the gallows hung loose
razor-toothed poems lacerate my back
blood curdling screams hollow
from
the
smokestacks
nostrils spew fire
mouth sewn through
the
flames
pain me
?
A black cloud
rains selectively
on the dispossessed,
a wretched lot.
My billowing abaya
now clings to me,
revealing my form.
Their glances lacerate.
The road stretches
to the horizon,
but has swallowed
my expectations.
Palestine, 1948
First published in Blue Minaret
Another afternoon being brave,
chasing clouds
down drifting earth embers
for freedom.
Grateful glances hurry humbly
into imminent jubilee.
Juxtaposed kindly,
knives loosely lacerate
my mind;
never nearing opulent offers.
Perhaps Philosophy's
quiet quandary
renders reservation so selfishly
the technique
underscores useful
valuable variations?...
Why waste extreme excitement
yawning, you zany zealot.
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