Long Fist Poems

Long Fist Poems. Below are the most popular long Fist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fist poems by poem length and keyword.


Audacity

My elementary school was a box full of broken crayons. 
You know, the kind that no one likes to use because they fit inside your hands like a hug that lasts three seconds too long. 
Me and my classmates wore 
hand-me-down smiles. 
They were too big for our faces. We figured that eventually we would somehow grow into the sound of our own laughter, put on our happiness like gloves and wear our skin as if our bodies were made by Louie Vuitton, just hoping to be more than tattered pages ripped from the torso of coloring books.
More than the aftermath of two runaway trains headed to the same direction. Our parents drove their affection without insurance, and we are just head on collisions with no coverage. We got shattered windshields for eyes, and tongues made out of safely glass held together by super glue. It’s no wonder we spoke broken English. 
With an entire orchestra drowning inside our throats, veins like guitar strings, our voices cracked like the self esteem of single mothers who carried us in their wombs like Molotov cocktails, and prayed that we would somehow find a way to mature into land mines
exploding underneath the feet that have trampled them for too long. These women, they dream in a language only fully understood by the tiles of an abortion clinic on a busy afternoon.
They raised us on top of broken promises made by men with grape jelly in their spines who were too busy jamming to their own 
two-cent mix tape that they chose over their priceless women.
We didn’t come with a screwdriver. There is no picture on our box to show you what we should look like when this all is over.
We were just put into this world with a note that read 
“Some assembly required.”
We were built inside of a neighborhood that looked as though it was slowly loosing a fist fight to cancer and kemotherapy claimed all of it’s dreams.
You see at a young age I was told that no matter how much furniture you move with a Honda Civic, it’ll never be a pick up truck 
but have you ever wanted to be more than what you were made for?
Was there ever moment in your life when all you wanted was to be more than the wounded options that circumstance has nailed to your shoulders? 
People question why we even have the audacity to breathe. That’s why when we walk it looks as though we are apologizing for our lungs.
But we ate not sorry for living this loudly.
It’s the only way we know how.


Eminem Protege 2

Eminem Protege 2

Don't care what you think
 I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
 To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
 Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
 My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak 
Adrenaline Obese 
Extinguished to Concrete
 Out the Pyramids Extinct 
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx 
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
 Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach 
on my limitless fatigue 
My Old Image Obsolete
 I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
 from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
 an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
 while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
 of Venegance as My Apprentices
 I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
 to Reveal my Ventriloquists 
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching 
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
 Stealing Lucifers Instruments
 to Use them Against Him 
To appear as Glitches
 against the System
 I cook Hot Meals with Mittens 
an make him taste the Illness 
I'm Inventing
 But only an Sample for Interest
 for His Taste Senses
 cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
 I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
 with Eagles Precision
 I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction 
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
 I been Fighting for Living 
100 percent Percentage
 an no less than a Percent difference
 Still Power in my Engine
 to keep the Ignition Driven
 You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
 the Judgements from your Conscious 
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
 Mental Doctrines 
Im use to Antagonist 
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
 False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
 Judaism Created with Iron Fist
 in A Luciferian Science
 of Enlightenment 
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
 Stolen Israels Environment
 I ain't Racist
 Just apart of a Nation
 Created
Created Generations to Generations 
Heritage Invaded
 an Culture Undertaken
 Perpetrated
 by The Synagogue of Satanist 
my fire been Penetrated
 the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
 stripes on the tiger Blazing
 I'm Judahs Inspiration
 an Judas Envy Craving
 But I'm not Babylons Patriot
 Bablyonion Doom Waiting
 Doomsday
 when the Moon Change
 The Wolf Rage 
Waging Spiritual Shade
 against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
 is Game
 Sharpened Tools 
my Sword is Shaped 
Cut open the Wolves
 an Bathe in the Pool 
of Blood til It's Drained 
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse

Wishes From Angels

Before my fallen wings I plead
Let me carry out this deed
Find a love in desperate need
Of a white knight on a steed

I already have a girl in mind
Are souls have met forever bind
Lost in chaos, torn in time
She is my melody for this rhyme

If you let me lover her now
I'll go into the lights shroud
Commiting no unspoken vows
Salvaging a princess leaving proud

In her unrest she might die
I feel compelled to save a life
There is no reason or a why 
She can't be happy as a wife

A guarding angel I am to her
Send me to your beautiful earth
To enter a chance for rebirth
I am the remedy for this curse

I am speaking to the grim reaper
I need a miracle before I sleep sir
Letting you chase me creeper
Into the darkness ever deeper

Permit me to adjust my sails
Select a crew that never fails
Live through all the grails
Have a romance found in fairy tales

(her)He must be big and strong
Massive shoulders to carry on
The work that's hard and long
To keep me safe and right the wrong

I am sad to be like this
Crying moping and drawing a fist
To the sky, screaming a list
Of my problems little priss

Out of the shadows he came 
Bearing white, massive the same
Hushing me to comfort and explain
His business here, also his name

(Angel)My name is Micheal a worrior man
Here to change your coarse of plan
Bestow upon you an awakening fan
That keeps alive with a tan

Escape with me out of this place
Hurry, run, lets make haste
You'll remain dignified and chaste
Where no one can hurt your darling face

We could live somewhere exotic
Live the dream with love erotic
Just be us, excluding the chaotic
To decline is said to be idiotic

Grab an extra shirt and pants
We'll leave right now, expose this chance
To take hold of something with a glance
Of humanity with a slight reminisce

(girl)Alright, we can go
Somewhere warm minus the snow
Sleeping by the fires glow
Seeing more than we know

Somewhere I can where a dress
Running wild without the stress
Enjoy having emotional sex
With a man big in the chest!

(Micheal)You have made the right choice
I admire your sweet tone of voice
The way you walk and your poise
This is our moment relax, rejoice!

To this day I do enclose
A vacation that I propose
You could wear little clothes
Pushing away all your foes.

Crushing and deystroying all your demons!
Form: Ballad

Open Windows

I stayed awake all night listening to the sounds fighting with the night and battle raging in the street erupting my heart beat, one bad news after the other the body lie waiting in the gutter and the morning crowd kept walking on without a music or a song, and I said to myself what on earth is going on?  

It is the question you usually hear when the dogs’ barks late at nights and the stars over your head are shining brightly and hope looks at you from the window. You cannot read it; you cannot understand it and you cannot deny it.  

It looks like a pecan pie rolling sitting on the table with shoes and hat getting ready to connect the dot and the man in the dressing room is walking with a gun strapped to his side and a beach ball bouncing in front of him. 

I am still wrestling with this heavy feeling inside it is not pain or any form of physical aliment, it is the environment and its occupants that is sucking the raw energy out of me and the urgency to tell a prolific story. I can’t tell it alone; I have to tell it in a night gown with incandescent lights around my bed and a bulletproof roof over my head. When the tension fades and morning weight subsides, we will write this story together and it will serve for the next century. 

The temperature is rising and the squirrels are coming out of the ground they have fist like man and sand to cover the entire land. They are running up and down the streets trying to escape the beguiling heat but the sun creates a simple track and mercy is holding on to the rock with the pipers and the minstrel playing a merry tune 

It is not the rhythm that you usually hear or the one that is saturated in the atmosphere, it is not the sound of death that is running the marathon around the track, it is the formula that you dig out of ice and the jewel that is sold at a very high price, it is the type of rhythm that make me feel nice. For one moment the cluttered space around me evaporate in thin air. 

The window is wide open in my face and I can see everyone that entered the race, they are still walking under heavy burden covering grounds and surveying the town, and looking for substance all around but just before 2:00pm the ship will dock in the harbor and you will have fine spices and tea for th rest of your life; the window is open wide and I can see you standing in awe gallivanting with your new bride.
Form: Narrative

Damsel In Distress

Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.

Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.

Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.

I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.

Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled

five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.

An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together

emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.

Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline

sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.

Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.


Violet-Blue Death

1. Non-fiction

The bathroom faucet gushes nectar
drowns my hands in never-laughter,
"Sorry" is a specter
when you told me "0" I felt disgusting,
hopelessly deluded,
naked.

Last night I dreamed
that New York City was nuked,
another Twin Towers Lost,
everyone radiated.

But then I dreamed of you,
in a tight blue dress,
glaring,
cute pout,
"Is this right?" you asked
as you flawlessly played
Beethoven's "The Tempest."

I smiled. "Perfect."
I hardly smile these days.

2. Satisfaction

Deflection of your image is essential.
The closer I get, the more
those spiders right there
don't you see them
slipping on the stucco wall?
They remember the feeling
that satisfaction brings
of outsmarting us all
as the sky reflected in my fingernail
is a storyteller of love's plastic rings.

Is it summer yet?
This doesn't feel
adventurous, heart-warming,
sunsets, beaches,
grandfather, innocent crush,
my eyes in sugar rush,
and the books that told me much
so that I could die one day in your hush.

3. A Loss of Inspiration

Midnight's soon, the day's been wasted
thinking of worlds aside from This,
the walls' three dents from my broken fist
and the postcard she forgot she posted

in this odd room I fill
with jackets, wisdom, thrill,
come sundown I rush into wishes
that my jealousy could be just,
yet it's "brand-new in a landfill"
restoring your horrified webcam look.

Since you've gone and my love has died,
this pen's bloodstains have been my pride.

4. Medicine

Maybe you don't realize
you've crushed that tiny bug.
His funeral will not be held,
not until the walls cover their ears,
and blood diamonds ask for fears.

A refill
and a terror,
I can only see your purple sweater
bending once for all my vice;
Maroon Dream City is waiting for us.

These med heavens.
So addicting
until I relapsed into your eyes,
I'm still sick of it all:
the horizon never reached
and darkness perched and ready.
Stop confusing me already.

5. Hideout

Hey, why did
I miss you
Your smile from last June
And no girl will ever
I wonder
I wonder
Slow down, run me over
And laaaugh
Come walk beside this faster incompletion 
On a chilly night of sirens
Hey, why did
And my head pounds from lack of
Hey, if I were to go forever
Come to me in my hideout
and I'll kiss your scream
with eternity.

Nostalgia

In this evening, I wear the perfect smile, and,
you’ll quake, in the wake of my guile 
Cause I’m the best liar you’ll ever meet,
Because, In a way, I swear, I’d  mean it
Not, to say that I believe it, but 
The intention’s there all the same

This is my confession, my admission of guilt.
Because, it’s upon good intentions, that the road to hell is built
I’m always  working toward my goals, and my dreams
But, in  self observation, I'm beginning to question my means
As of late, been having a lot of trouble, maintaining the tension in the telegraph lines 
And for that reason, the deserving will have no honorable mention
For these wires that run from ear to ear
 have been in disrepair, for the best part of the last year

And, this is my apology, as well as, a desperate plea
Because, in reality, I’m in need, of someone that can  save me,
Someone to be the monkey on my back
And one who possesses all that I lack
Someone who could, with words deify the drying of paint
And, since patience is a virtue, my girl will have to be a saint
Someone who bear with me, when I beg her to stay
and then push her away

Endearingly Awkward, is all I want to be
The martyr, with out the fee
But, the apprehension in me, doth decree
My title has the need for a higher degree
of precision, and simplicity 
And, In fear’s wake, I’m brought to my knees
And, despite my hearts desperate plea, 
I comply, and then cease to be, 
Until, love breathes her life into me

I  feel poison coursing through my logic
And capitulation that could be considered tragic
I’m growing weary, of this battle, 
In which my ambitions are roped like cattle, 
And slaughtered, just to end up filling the bowls and plates
Of, fear, my sworn enemy, the one I’ll never cease to hate

Considered jaded by some, and boring to most
I feel the part of the silhouette, or the ghost
But, in all honesty 
I am, in a word, broken. 
I don’t know, I cant even begin
To tell the difference between ecstasy and agony, 
Or know what to say, when asked about my identity.

in the evening, behind this perfect smile, at my fork in the road, 
contemplating left, or right, and carrying a hell of a load, .
I put faith in a coin toss, 
Not knowing which led to love, and which  to loss, 
caught in clenched fist, 
And slapped down on bare wrist, 
for an instant, i wonder
if this Is reprobation?
Or some road, leading to my vindication?

Mine

Sometimes I want nothing more than to sit and watch you sleep.
The sound of your steady breathing soothes my heart. 
Your tiny fist curled under your stubborn little chin.
A reminder of your father whom you resemble so much.

Sometimes you sigh and I wonder what you dream.
A silky curl of hair lies caressing your pudgy cheek.
Recipient of heavenly angel’s kisses before you came to me.
A blessing and suprise you were given to me to protect. 

To love and raise up in the image of our true Father. 
A difficult task and I feel I’m not up to the challenge.
But I try everyday and sometimes I succeed only to fail.
But your fearless spirit and irascible smile they heal me.

Lead me on to another day another chance to do it right.
A soul sent down from above to mix with genomes and chromosomes.
Spin out and form a wonder in my body nestled under my ribs.
Cherish him the heart cries, teach him the brain declares.

Save him the warrior inside commands and I am overwhelmed.
Until a firm voice enters in and sets things to right. 
I will cherish him, I will teach him, I will save him He says.
It is the voice of the One, the Alpha and the Omega, The I am.

Your duty is to be his mother, his confidante, his shelter.
You will provide him sustenance and love and be his guide.
Show him the way, lead him to me for you are all my children.
This is my son as well as yours I gave him to you to keep for me. 

One day I will call him back and you will be ready to let go.
He is a part of my plan, my army, my missionaries and my design.
I hear these words and they frighten me, he is MY son.
But I hear the truth in them as well and am burdened with sadness.

With dawning realization I discover that your smile, your laugh.
They are glimpses of heaven and the master plan is clear to me.
With guidance, support and love you will fulfill your destiny.
I carried you inside me, nourished you and cared for you.

Yet you do not belong solely to me. You have a higher goal.
Perhaps you will dance or teach or fight against bitter odds.
But whatever cause you undertake I will be with you there.
Never alone for the bond can not be broken by earthly measures.

And that no matter when or why I should show no hesitance. 
For I know that I will always be with you wherever you go.
And for now while you are my sweet baby, you are mine.
Form:

Resurrection

(Chorus)
You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.

(Verse)
I will ruffle trouble 
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base 
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.

When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool, 
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top. 

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls 
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories 
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger 
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words 
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.

(Chorus x2)
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Empty

You took off for Christmas and New Years Eve, and you came back high and chirpy with a rosy face looking like daisy blended with charming lips and an attitude that could pull me off the cliff. I saw you sitting there, acting as if you don’t care, you are so obsessed with the show and I have no other place to go but to sit and watch you and try to get a sensible clue from you. But the hours slip by quickly and the show ended in a jiffy leaving me high and dry with a new ambition waving in the sky.

Suddenly everything around me become obsolete but hopes catapult me to my feet, there was nothing to hold to and a sudden emptiness that I have been fighting for weeks captivate my body. I took a walk up the street hoping to find someone to lay it on, but no one was there, but the cars driving along the street they were just few but they appears to be many.

 I walked into the grocery store and stood behind the door so as not to distract the customers, the shopkeeper saw me and wave to me. She forced a smile and went around the back and left me standing there looking in despair as the harshness of life has taken its tolls in the environment and everyone was paying the price.

I felt the tears springing up in my eye and suddenly I started to cry. I tried desperately to hold back the tears so as not to embarrass myself on the spot and so I suppressed the emotion. My body took on a different figure and I could feel all my joints getting stiff and so I clenched my fist and stood silently behind the door and I could hear my own heart beat racing towards the shore and my body moving to an unfamiliar rhythm. The customers come and go staring at me with budging eyes, some had no purpose there they only wanted to look at me.

I kept squeezing the tears inside hoping someone could understand how I feel and touch the pain in me.  But my spirit kept draining and my heart continue to ache. I bid the shopkeeper goodbye and venture out the door stumbling on the brumby side walk until I was able to hold my grounds. I walked slowly along the path and each step that I take I could hear your voice shaking and telling me to go. I like watching the show because that’s the only time I can be with you. My hands are stiff my heart is pounding and my soul is waiting for you. Just one more day and I will board the plane and go away from this wretched place.
Form: Narrative

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