Thursday, May 7, 2009

The Poet...

Poetry, prose and a punch in the nose
all have the power to pause one
Or cause one to stop and think for a bit;
to reconsider
or at least
recover from the hit.

I give you Poe for your perusal
Is he a left jab, or what?!
The bells, bells, bells, bells keep ringing
til one's brain is fairly singing
to the rhythm of his verse
and what's worse...

He lifts you up with pathos
and macabre celebrations
of all the darker things.
Poe plummets us down to the depths
Of our psyche
Sets us up with the left
And buries us with the right
In the middle of the ring with blood and gore
But leaving us wanting more, more, more.

The poet takes his pleasure, gloves or nay
In the sweet science of thrilling his prey.



Learn more about this author, Boxer Wyze.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Reprint of "Iraq: A Poetic Profile" by Joe Kane

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 08, 2004

Iraq - a poetic profile
Your head lies hard on the gravestone of your past
As the boot of the West bears down upon your neck,
Even as its hands try to heal you.

A corruption runs fever through your twitching flesh
Limbs flailing against each other,
And like rabid and cannibalistic lepers
Twist off whole rotting chunks
That will fall off and die or eat themselves.

Set on the stage of holy books and history
The blood of innocents blends and darkens the mystery.

A country in between is the country of Iraq
Between the rivers that sustain it and at the same time drain its refuse
Between the black ocean beneath it that may yet feed its hunger
And the religion hovering above it that keeps its mind in perpetual starvation.

At once the cradle of civilization and the grave of reason
Home of tribe and veil and scimitar and prayer
And now, perch and nest for the Eagle from the west.

Slow your choked and ragged chant
A golden gift has arrived
Borne on the wide shoulders of the children of Aristotle
It must be molded
Lest it is smashed, stolen and scattered under the rising dust of time.

What folly of faith led you to think that butchery could prevail
When computer keyboards are mightier by far than Kalashnikov or veil?

Originally published on AbleKaneAdventures.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Run the Rum Kegs

Run the rum kegs into my berth and locker,
I’ll be hiding them for a cold day.
What’s that you say? One has cracked near the stopper,
Break out the mugs lad! It’ll not waste away!”

Whoa! The boat tilts and you slide to the rail.
Hey! The boat rocks you and knocks you around.
Ho! The boat heaves and you’re grabbing the pail,
But we’ll finish the rum ‘fore we run her aground!

“I was on watch when the storm began raging.
All I could do was shout “Up and away!”
Three men came running on deck cross the foc’sle.
All now are lost to the sea and the spray.”

Whoa! The boat tilts and you slide to the rail.
Hey! The boat rocks you and knocks you around.
Ho! The boat heaves and you’re grabbing the pail,
But we’ll finish the rum ‘fore we run her aground!

Bother me not with your port tax and customs.
I’ve paid my dues on the seas of the world.
Right whales and pirates have all tried to take me,
And though one leg I lost I’ve another that serves.

Whoa! The boat tilts and you slide to the rail.
Hey! The boat rocks you and knocks you around.
Ho! The boat heaves and you’re grabbing the pail,
But we’ll finish the rum ‘fore we run her aground!

Boxer Wyze

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Faith

I don't believe nor have I seen
a reason to believe.
When I count one, then add just one,
it's two, not more, you see?

And yet I'm told by those who've "seen"
that "more" exists, somewhere
and two is never quite enough
nor the process even fair.

"It discounts my feelings!" is the cry,
"The logic is cold, detached."
"Facts cannot be truly known
and I'm certainly sure of that!"

But my world is just THE WORLD, it seems
"More" I'll never need...
and my two ones together
will never more than two exceed.

3 Oct. 1995
Boxer Wyze

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Heaven on Earth

by Boxer Wyze

Forget and erase tales of rainbow's end,
unconditional love and leisure without end.
Instead look for that, which truly does fill,
our minds and hearts with a virtuous thrill.

Search for the puzzles that tax your wit.
Clash with foes who'll keep you fit.
Use brain and backbone, be constantly striving
to better yourself; keep pushing, keep driving!

Learn to enjoy that, which truly does cause
your time in this world to be worthy of pause
Reflect and remember and be prideful of
The things you create, the things that you love.

Leave something behind but in doing so, cheer!
Live with joy in your heart; let the world know, "You're here!"

When you are gone let it always be said,
He earned every scar, every bump on his head.
He knew full well the measure of his worth
and the pleasure of living in Heaven on Earth.

Learn more about this author, Boxer Wyze.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Life

by Boxer Wyze


"The meaning of life?" is a question oft heard,
but what is the meaning of "life" the word?

Life for the average living thing
Is a series of actions required to sustain
the process of life itself... a bit mundane,
as definitions go
but there's more, much more,
as I'm sure you must know.

So, on with it, what is "life" for a man?
A man's not like other life forms, understand.
Where other life adapts, He creates and makes change
to the very environment he lives in, 'tis strange!

He must think to exist and create to survive
and in mastering these two things, He's alive!

A better thing to ponder than "the meaning of life,"
if you use your logic like a razor sharp knife
is to ask, as I learned in a book by Ayn Rand,
"What is the PURPOSE of YOUR life," my friend?

2008

Learn more about this author, Boxer Wyze.