• Struggle
    • MalikPeterson



    It was a cold summer's night. 
    The warm winter moon shone brightly over the horizon. 
    The apocalypse was now...or near. 
    Trace elements of fear...danced in air. 
    Trace elements of this static...electric. 
    I stood stagnant...every breath eclectic. 
    Chest heaved to a peak...then caved. 

    Fists clinched...with the grace of an open hand. 

    Eyes wide...fire tempered...steely glance...then glare. 
    I stare...at the stairway...to nowhere. 
    I say...it's no fair if I leave here with no fare. 
    I wish to be enriched to the point of breathing...with no air. 

    Is it hedonistic if I boast just to show flare? 

    The task at hand is dressed in fancy...but for the most...bare. 
    I shift eyes downward...admiring the groundwork... 

    prepared to bury my foes there. 

    The stances are so stylistic... 
    as we stare down two ones conflicted. 
    We ready our aim to dance as vile misfits. 
    The framework we compile a mile's distance... 

    proving the lengthy art of war and resistance. 

    The clash rages for decades onward and wayward. 
    No pain is the refrain deep within my brain work... 
    yet through the physicality of my outer shell...I claim hurt. 
    We gain nothing from stalemate at the same perch... 

    and I try to keep from wrestling with destiny as shame's clerk. 

    It was dark...and it was hot. 
    I was cold hearted when he appeared... 
    yet tried to reason with him...but he was unflinching. 
    I offered him prosperity and fame...he said no. 
    I offered him riches and glamor...he refused. 
    I told him there would be no degree of fear if he would simply vanish. 

    He rattled his chains and shackles as he prepared to fight. 

    I never wished for this conflict but knew it was the only condition... 
    under which I could rid myself of him and the stagnation in his mission. 
    He's abrasive and he's smitten by the most simplistic of renditions... 
    stepping backward and never forward...a minimalist with precision. 

    If we won't fight to the death...then to a unanimous decision... 
    This is war...this is battle...this is contention... 
    This is me verses he.... 

    my inhibitions.

    © 2008-2009 Malik Peterson. All Rights Reserved.

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    heavensdaughter commented on "War"


    This is my favorite, I like the expression of words and how ur able to actually feel the words as they come, VERY nice job, =)



    thank you so much. I am really glad you liked this one. I appreciate you stopping by and reading a great deal. hope to see you again soon :)

    KtIrish commented on "War"


    You can't see me right now, but i'm jumping up and down and throwing confetti while waving a banner that says 'Malik rocks!'. I could pull out my thesaurus and find some new and interesting words to describe how utterly awesome you are and how mind-blowing your poetry is. However, my mind has been blown, so I can't get up. I could barely type out these words. I am suprised you haven't had a kudos overdose yet. Bravo, my friend, bravo.



    Thanks Caity...sooo glad you liked it...and no I dont have a problem with rocking continuously lol. :)

    bandit1192 commented on "War"


    Very nice work Malik. Sometimes that inner battle can go on for years. At least until we realize, we made the enemy and we do have the power to defeat him. Good write, TS



    Thanks bandit. I am glad you liked it.

    BigDaddyCash commented on "War"


    The poems you write, at least the ones I’ve read, all send the same message. Dis-satisfaction is clearly painted with clever brushes. Emotions exploding drawing energy from one source. I like your style even though I may not agree with your thought. LOL, BDC



    Lol...well thank you...as long as you like what you read...we dont always have to agree.

    bklynrizz commented on "War"


    SilkyTweed said it best with: ...like a kite caught on a steady updraft of wind. I too, thought that it was about combat but than realized it was an inner war. Great comparison, making the inner conflict appear as an external physical war.



    thanks pete...like I said to silk...sorry I didn't see this sooner...and appreciate you stopping by as always.

    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    MalikPeterson’s Poems (52)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    "We: The World Famous Shameless Disappearance
    "The Gaudy Guise Of External Fortitude" 20
    "Memorandum To The Masked Masses" 14
    "The Melancholy Of The Heartless Ones" 19
    "The Misconceived Symphony Of Synergy" 38
    "The Complex Theory Of Beauty" 29
    "Stuck In Traffic" 29
    "Kiss The Demons And Make Them Cry" 37
    "The Making Of A Classic" 16
    "Only The Righteous Know" 46
    "It Was All A Dream"(dream series) 13
    "For The Love Of...?"(5 poem series) 23
    "Media Collateral Ligaments" 40
    "Note To Self" 19
    "Survivor Series" 9
    "Play It By Ear" 12
    "On Pleasure I Land" 25
    "Siamese Nightja-wu" 3
    "Love Story v1: Jade and I" 22
    "Would You Still Love Me?" 32
    "Yesterday's Future Present" 18
    "She's Deeply In Love" 26
    "Voices" 10
    "The Somnambulists
    "The Passer By" 11
    "A Heartfelt Debate" 8
    "A Stark Life" 11
    "The Sex Issue" 6
    "Torn" 31
    "Speaking of Deja Vu..." 4
    "The Paradise Club" 5
    "7 Days of Bloodshed" 13
    "Reality" 6
    "First Class Flyer" 4
    "I Never Wrote A Love Poem..." 14
    "Seasons' Dance" 5
    "An UpWrite Soul" 4
    "Lucid Alpha" 15
    "The Voyager's Art" 5
    "Promiscuous" 9
    "Land of Make Believe" 5
    "Normality" 9
    "Once Upon a Yesterday" 11
    "Victim" 18
    "Just Invisible" 7
    "Esteemed Colleague" 9
    "Fly-By-Night Lights" 6
    "Just Your Average Dreamer"(entr
    y#3 dream series)
    "The Essence of a Dream" 7
    "Dreams" 13
    "War" 9
    "I Want to be a Martian" 19