you broke rule 162, he said
Too many rules to fit inside his wife’s head
she went limp on his tight-fisted chain
trying to please him again, in spite of the pain
stop pouting, you know that is rule 292
She wished she had the nerve to say they were through
Why don’t you just leave that idiot? asked her cousin Cat
But she was terrified he would kill her for that.
In the hollows of power’s grip,
where shadows twist the heart’s cry,
there—mights build thrones on backs bent,
where abuse wears the mask of guidance,
control, a cloak woven with the thread of fear.
Power thrives in silence, feeding on the unspoken.
Manipulation, subtle as the serpent’s whisper,
curls around dreams, tightening,
threats drip, venomous, eroding hope,
indifference, a cold moon, shuns the warmth
of a shared sun, selfishness seizes, tight-fisted,
squelching the laughter of the young, the joy of the old.
The beauty of a soul, effaced,
a canvas scrubbed too raw,
bearing the brutal strokes of unkindness—
yet, beneath this, a pulse, a flicker:
resilience, a defiance against the night,
rising, always rising, despite the crush of the dark.
I read the news today the headlines said, " arming is the best way "
if only Presidents and Governments would realize, " its not the way"
Tight fisted words and nuclear explosions erode humanity's soul
we don't want to live in a world of war savants we got heart & soul,
I read the news today they got it wrong, "arming is not the way"
Mocking the dead,
the vampire on the hill, high
above the cityscape. Why
does his cloak wrap around?
It moves with a hissing sound,
blackened on the outside,
blue on the molten graveside.
Sharpening incisors on the crag,
but
the villagers with their worn rags
tight fisted with their goodly lights -
those lanterns, infused with salt
of garlic, compelled forward in the dead
of night. Mockers and murderers, fed
by rage, want to dispel the wine and bread.
Hell,
the strangulation of fire, lava rolling
down the hill. Mocking, laughter -
the shivering of the old church rafters.
The reborn, new creation, settled
on roof-blowing praise. Nettled,
old Nick, the vampire king unsettled.
Mocking the dead,
making his own bed, jutting at jugulars,
darkening the atmosphere, drawing
congregants, unholy. But, someone holy
has his heels on the vampire’s head.
He’s been banished…dead heads’ rolling.
The glorious light of the lamb, consoling.
"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
Quote by_Constance La France
BLANK PAGES OF A DOORMAT
a touch of emotion is what she’s after…his touch a fire
lit inside their combatant stoves…pen ought to inspire
tit and tat attention, enclosed in verbal laundromat -
mumbling and tumbling inside - the words of a doormat
no conception in this tight-fisted vestibule - counselor points
to a list of verbs, nouns, adjectives - each word disappoints
11/14/2022
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Writing
AS I GO ABOUT MY BUSINESS
As I go about my business, dazed by
The stultifying immediacy of it all,
How can I reach out to what I once had
Before the great sadness overwhelmed me
In its grey cloud? Do I wait patiently,
Trusting the morning sun will melt
The frozen wastes, covering the truth
Of my natural landscape? I believe I have
No choice but to linger in the foothills,
As I relearn the ways of inner peace
In the cold frame of inexorable time.
I have my hands tight-fisted to protect myself;
Perhaps I need to open them out
To new possibilities where I can see
That kindness easily draws within,
Embracing the broken heart,
And shows that love can be rekindled.
LIKE A FREEZE DATE
Girl so dressed up
girl pleasant to the eye
girl covered to arouse the eye
girl candy of the eye
then came a cool chill
girl so cold now
girl shaking now
girl... i aint feeling well dia
oversize sweater offered
girl turns down the offer
for mustn't we look as eva
always so charming
hug offered
girl almost gives in
remembering virtue duly
girl accepting tight fisted hand clamp
girl look into my eyes
girl unable to hold gaze
girl - desperately free your hand
girl just saw her future.. in his eyes.
Lewis k Nyaga
01/19/2015
Insisted
tight-fisted
hard fisted, too.
Resistin'
when necessary
or, hey, when not.
Assertions without backup facts
get votes.
Disappearance when overwhelmed
whole 'nother story.
Post-modern society i’m feelin’ afflicted,
confined a predestined identity – i’m restricted,
what I preach and practice – contradicted,
due to the confines I mimic and pick, waiting for what the Mayan’s predicted,
the revealing, the coming clean, tell us what the hieroglyphs depicted,
we’re all looking for direction, collective unconscious became misted,
many hearts and minds twisted, our souls blistered,
instead of caring and sharing, we’re all tight fisted,
people starve, people are killed, people are tortured and it’s as if we all personally wished it,
maybe i’m just a mis-fit,
maybe my points fleeting and you missed it....
wake up
wake up
wake up.
Death and birth are equally common.
Yet death did not seem a reality until I was at least twenty three.
I lost Big Daddy first; His world was a simple farming life
son of a sharecropper. Big and tall in overalls,
a narrow minded man with a big heart,
tight fisted on a dollar, protector of family,
middle child of five.
Husband of Leola Foy Kendrick(Mawmaw)
Homemaker, home loving,
best fried chicken ever
never learned to drive a car but sat
a horse very nicely.
Paperdolls and pennies.
Happy Fathers Day Big Fat Father!
Happy fathers day big fat Dad
I forgot to get you a card but don’t be sad
Its not that I forgot, more that I got distracted
You know what it’s like when you’re mean and tight-fisted
I said to myself as I left the house,
I’ll get him a card but I will use my nouse,
What would dad do, let me see
I know, he’d try and get a card for 20p
But when I got to the blasted shop,
Wide eyed and in amazement I had to stop,
For you see the cards were very expensive
Something I knew you would find offensive,
So after spending my money on myself,
I decided to give you something of far greater wealth,
I know, I thought, I will make him a card,
All sentimental a real colourful work of art!
But then it occurred to me while I was trying to be kind,
You wouldn’t appreciate it because your colour blind,
Not only that (and this broke my heart),
You wouldn’t understand it, being a silly old fart.
So after thinking and pondering all of the night
I didn’t know what to do, try as I might,
I was starting to worry and with seconds to spare
I wrote you this crap poem and I don’t even care!
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