It was a lollapalooza from last week
that landed like a left hook
and left me slack jawed and listless
kneeling there like a lump.
That haymaker haunts me
in the here and now,
uses my yesterday lie
like a bonecrusher to the ribs.

We are four-dimensioned men
boxing over time.
Old Gang rumbles with New Gang,
running riot through soul’s inner city –
and one of them to the death.
Old Gang is pitiful
but he still packs a powerful punch
rising up in my inner vision
like muhammed ali out for blood.
I don’t think I’ll stand
much longer.

Sixty two rounds we’ve gone now.
I long for the bell
that signals some respite.
Every jab I make is weaker
than the jab before.
If I’m to win this fight
it won’t be me that wins it.
It will be he that loses.
I can last longer, that’s all.
I can last long enough.

He towers,
takes off his glove
looking for that final KO
this time.

But stand I will.
One more time.
His desperation steels me.
I set my jaw,
glare back into his glare.
Not one of my bones is broken.

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12 Comments on “Lollapalooza”

  1. Was it your Birthday? That’s what this makes me think of. Anyway, whatever it pertains it is well written and vivid. πŸ™‚

    • Thank you, And it is almost my birthday though I hadn’t made the connection. I was actually thinking about sanctification and what a failure I am.

      • Be encouraged.
        Sanctification is a life long process! Know one is perfect. I will be praying for you though…as if it is heavy on your heart, as I know my own failures often are, then prayer is the best thing I can do for you.


  2. Very true, and thank you. Though I have no fear of being a failure. As long as God is not a failure, it is enough.

  3. russellboyle Says:

    I like the boxing metaphor..

  4. I particularly like the last line … a reference to Psalm 34:20, a verse of special significance in my life This poem, to me is a wonderful metaphor of the fight of faith. Well done!

  5. Eric Alagan Says:

    Fighting the good fight. I reckon we’ll all win – though the trophy might not be what some of us might be expecting.

    Peace, Eric

  6. I like this poem, especially the alliteration in the first verse.

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