You thought his woman weren’t half-bad,
cared not that he was a good dad,
stole his wife, made his children sad,
now hell’s coming with him.
You thought he didn’t need that land,
and looked at it with visions grand,
had no fear of the farmer man,
yet hell’s coming with him.
You won’t work to bring money in,
much easier to take and grin,
you rob the man and think, “I win,”
but hell’s coming with him.
You believed you were big and tough,
found his sister, and roughed her up,
he won’t stand for that kind of ‘love,’
so hell’s coming with him.
You think you can just take and take
his rights away, and he won’t break,
but power’s not immune from hate,
real hell’s coming with him.
So now you’ve dragged him from his home,
his rage worse than you’ve even known,
wise men leave quiet ones alone,
’cause hell’s coming with him.
Hell’s coming with him.
Trip tripping over the words
Wheres the same in the strange
I've lost my way
Since the pain
Comes the rain
Walk down my hall of shame
No explanations for these reasons
The places my mind travels
Down this dirty road
Clouded by all the dust
Feelings fall uncleaned
Roughed to the core
My world broken apart
Losely i speak with this untwisted tongue
I wish i could find the words for my misunderstanding
As we grow we seem to split into two very different places
I want to take it all away
Go back to the way we were
But how were we really
Questions are barriers for the answers
Why cant i be the way we were sure to be then than now
My heart is lonely and my mind will never make sense of what has become
But i will try to be more then we were meant to be through us even if that has gone.
AMBUSH
There are times
when you walk down the hall to
yet another meeting, walk from your
car to the strip mall pharmacy that dispenses
your Viagra, or stand before a classroom of
dedicated students for another stimulating lecture
on urban ecosystems, that some sound, some color,
some geometric pattern triggers unwanted memories
about people you loved that didn’t get your best,
that were somehow roughed up by the mean,
the mercurial, the muscular machinations that
served your righteous way forward and
suddenly your are naked, a declining
physique with an fascinating tapestry of surgical
scars, blotches and bruises from rugby,
relationships and reckless behaviors, and the people
around you are unknowing, unforgiving, uncomfortable
with your silence, wishing you’d move on instead of
searching in the hallway, the cracked parking lot, your
hand-written lecture notes for the clothing and armor that
have carried you this far or at least for a robe that might
hide the embarrassment of your shame and your guilt
and the nasty suspicion that, given another
chance, you’d behave the same way again!
She brought her fish with her
To remind her of home
And because she trusted no one to feed them like she did
She was persnickety like that
They were not nice to her today,
roughed her up a bit while they strip-searched her.
Told her after all she had gone through
She could see her husband tomorrow. He was in punishment.
What could be more punishment than where he was?
She stared across the courtyard at the prison
Wondering which window belonged to him
Did he even have a prison?
The bed was lumpy, uncomfortable
And she found someone else’s hair in the sheets
Not the cleanest room she had ever rented
But she wanted to stay where she was, so she kept this quiet.
Praying that tomorrow she might actually get to see her man
After they roughed her up and strip searched her.
She told the fish “You don’t know how lucky you are”
having no idea her husband had hanged himself three days prior.
SONNET FOR WINDS OF CHANGE
Cross cirrus sky swift brush strokes paint mares' tails
Tree tops are in restless susurration,
While cumbrous clouds traverse in vapour trails
Mead grass is fanned in wild undulation
Lake face whipped to agitated motion
Plumes roughed, wildfowl voyage with discretion
Gulls in-land tell of wild storms on ocean
All braced to face nature's bare aggression
When young I chose such rugged medium
Deplored the concept then of perfect peace
Such state suggested endless tedium
Hazard preferred to slow drawn out release
While I now sometimes seek respite from strife
I yet love winds that change, give breath to life
I posed a'cross the garden gates
rouged and roughed and slightly warped
-
unmoving
-
a vision thru the netherness
~
green vines harnessed
upon gasps of breath
strangled
more than a rose of splendor
plucked then pricked
in silence, whispers call
protruding this empty shell
°
where hath love come
past
thou beauty's rest
and hark I hear
springtime
perched upon thy nest
°
treetops dance in wonderment
serendipitously seduced
a serenade
a surrender
I surrender
to the light
as it tiptoes atop my tomb
~
I crumble
and climb inside your womb
Devil:Marlboro Black
It started with a knock at the door
And a polite request to go with them
If there was any resistance it was dealt with
By taser or silenced pistol
Those taken are cuffed and led to a van
Thrown into the back then roughed up
They won’t see their loved ones again
First they’re processed
Then interrogated
Beaten some more
Locked in a cell
Totally fecking naked
Fed bread and water
Filmed for propaganda
Then cleansed
Existing no more…
Juniper’s Daughter: Fookin' Weech
Nick Armbrister
My poems have me musing with my muse:
inking new phrases, so I don't reuse.
And to make obscure words sound sensible:
a thesaurus is indispensable.
Each and every line conceived in my mind
gets roughed in, tentative, and unrefined.
And to broaden my vocabulary,
I consult a rhyming dictionary.
And as verses form through perseverance,
a brand-new poem makes its appearance.
It was a normal day, but something made it different from others,
Putting a smile on my face, showing the natures beauty and true colours,
Choices was mine, whether to enjoy it or just stay to admire,
But was it really the reason for such a wonderful day having the everyday attire,
Each moment had the scent of a graceful desire,
Questioning every second the purpose of the different fragrance of nature,
Then she came and passes me like flow of the air,
Her presence was enough to win the hearts of every royal heir,
Her smile could speak a million languages to be understood by one who has been loved,
yet i stand there now understanding the reason why my breath became so roughed,
It was like winters came bringing happiness of eternal,
So this is how it feels to fall in love, dreaming about future with bunch of short interval,
But the dreams were too high to achieve soo soon,
that they broke the heart making a deep mark like always seen on the moon,
Still hope for things to get better like before,
If the love was true then all sorrow will be foreverly cured.
Once a man who had no belief
Love was nugatory, too obsolete
No worries, no design.
But his heart did rine
When saw those blissful eyes
How could it be ?
The beauty that lies
He had fallen for her eyes
Roughed up his mind, recasted his soul
Beauty that was untold
The mist of the clouds
The glitter of the sun rays
What she possessed was exceedingly to be praised
He was bewildered
His heart racing loud
Mystic was the place where his demiurge rise
He had fallen for her eyes
He intended to say what he felt
To shatter those clutches that withheld
Amidst in the crowd, went towards her
Heart pumping loud, rid of all fear
How could you possess me with your eyes
Inexplainble serenity in them lies
I had undermined the competence of love
Speaking it out loud ....
There is a bond that ties
I have fallen for your eyes .
Bloodstained
Windowpane,
Light like
Lipstick
Gloss-touched
And here I sit,
Fingertips
Stilled,
Distilled,
Maybe,
Into something
Clearer,
Cleaner
Than this
Metal framed
Bar-roughed
Body
Of a
Looking glass
I’d shatter,
If I could…
Transparent
Only for a
Moment
When wiped
Away-
It screams
“Don’t touch me!”
So I don’t,
I distill
Myself
Into something
Cleaner,
Clearer,
Maybe
And I sit,
And sit,
And sit
At the sill-
Can’t see;
Maybe
I couldn’t
See
To begin with
And it’s me,
Not the glass
That is so dirty.
Bloodstained windowpane,
Light like lipstick gloss-touched
And here I sit,
Fingertips stilled,
Distilled, maybe,
Into something clearer,
Cleaner
than this metal framed
Bar-roughed
Body of a looking glass I’d shatter,
If I could…
Transparent only for a moment
When wiped away-
It screams “Don’t touch me!”
So I don’t,
I distill myself
Into something cleaner,
Clearer, maybe
And I sit, and sit,
And sit at the sill-
Can’t see;
Maybe I couldn’t see
To begin with
And it’s me,
Not the glass that is so dirty.
Let's Be Fare
Roller coaster ride
Two for a holler, no change
Paid the fare and blew our love
Donned red eyes instead
Up and down emotions, roughed
Can we be one and pay change?
connie pachecho
8/14/17
Inspired by reading the entries to
Oh how I miss you - Poetry Contest
When a man boarded a commercial jet plane,
he never thought he would experience pain.
Due to a very unfortunate incident,
he boarded as a doctor, and left as a patient.
There was urgent business for him in another city.
Security guards roughed him up and displayed no pity.
The man was bumped off the flight for four personnel.
After the savage beating, he looked like hell.
This business in the public eye does not look fine.
That certainly is no way to run an airline!
from a news story found on aol.com
(On November 9, 1799 Napoleon Buonaparte
launched his coup d'etat in Paris. It made
him a dictator, and corrupted him beyond
salvation. 18 Brumaire was the date of the
coup, by the revolutionary calendar in use
at the time.)
As climbing greasy poles habitually goes,
this wasn't (one must say) exactly polished.
To be roughed-up – but by politicos!
Can't blame them: no-one likes to be abolished
(especially not these ego-bloated shysters!)
What else? Oh, in a paroxysm of rage,
in distant climes, eccentric Kapellmeisters
were gouging (scoring?) through a music page.
For all his smiling talk of ease and glee
(tomorrow), his eloquent implorings,
unfailingly, this moment always comes.
The pipes are always drowned by the drums.
and that sleek sloop named self-regard so sleazily
slips free of all that nurtured it – its moorings.
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