Stigmata of the mind? Bloody wounds of Christ inflicted in mental imagery here. Fleeting awareness of a higher voice speaking in hushed tones not to give up my friend. I found you in a dream today, Jude, your name over and over in association with the Roger McGuire Song, The Eve of Destruction.

A pugilistic perspective of self-inflicted torment and intrepid identity. Great writing!

What's still standing is your core, your essence--that which is incorruptible and untouched! Wow, what a write! Glass-chinned tigers, Jude. You'll come back fighting with a one-two punch, no doubt...

Lin

long live that "flickering light," jude...
when the healing is done, may the cosmos heap upon you bountiful rewards.
be well,
carolyn

well done, as always

A fist fight would be easier than the epic struggle you describe so well,

Ron

Excellent! Jude, you've given me a completely different perspective on boxing. And, as usual, superb writing. ~leslie

Pah! boxing, just a boys sport. Wing Chun and in 3 the opponent is down before his punch hits.
Same for dark thoughts of the mind. KO them before they speak and rise above the diatribe of lies.

:)) winning the fight by sliding out from underneath, absenting oneself physically or mentally! It's a very useful device and skill to employ, finding a wormhole down which to disappear beneath the heavy onslaught of a wildebeast stampede... or even from the eye and mind of an intellectual predator. Is this the macho equivalent of the female swoon?! I think William Burroughs might have related to this thus:

"I live with the constant threat of possession, and a constant need to escape from possession, from control... and death... brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a life long struggle, in which I have had no choice except to write my way out."

Fabulous sustained metaphor here, Kartero, and I'm sorry it's been such a bloody long, hard winter. But hang tuff, Senor... spring is just around the corner, you wait; and there'll yet be

"that underground bar,
air so thick us strangers kiss
and green-shoot April
pushes up in waves
on wings of emerald jazz"

So good to see you back in the ballpark! Keep on the ever upward, onward path, Jude... even when face down! Kurly Kate xx

I felt myself relating to these lines, Jude. This is an expressive piece that could be applied to many situations, I think. I wonder how many others said...hey...that's me. I like the witty end:)
Sheila

you sneaked in between the oatmeal;-)
glad I didn't miss this one!
At least it gives us an idea
of what you're going through
to share...potent metaphor's
in a classy style...

The hardest blows to our psyche are generally self-inflicted. I could feel myself reeling as I read this;stuck in that mire of murkiness that comes with feeling befuddled. These are the times we must delve deeply to find our center and our strength, then we must never give up the fight. I love the power in this offering, Jude. It reminds me that I haven’t written in a long while and inspires me to change that fact.
Take care,
Sherry

This certainly "packs a punch," Jude; and I can relate to this due to some "circumstances" not so long ago. Love and peace to you,

Regis

I could almost follow this one yet couldn't have put it better...the mind is a terrible thing to get stuck with. LadyJ

Jude,,,,this is deep, sometimes throwing in the towel is harder than the fight, yet allows one to move on
Christine

I'm so happy to see you writing again Jude and you've given us a lot to think about with this wonderful penning in the usual Jude ForEse syle. Magnificant1
Hugs,
Marcia

You fought that fight too?? Goes straight to the soul Jude.

great description of a struggle - i'm sure the boxer wrestler could do with a rest! A sleep rather than a knock-out concussion, when life is but a dream - didnt someone say that? Keats. On Death. 'concussion' - I really like your first crick-in-the neck stanza :) a spot of sun or moonbathing sounds like some good medicine. Self inflicted/cosmic concussion is something to think about, got that picture of Mickey Rourke on the ropes in the last scene of The Wrestler in my mind now -great read Jude xx

Self-inflicted knockout - a most powerful one, indeed.

The hardest concussions of them all are the ones inflicted by understanding clobbering your head with a bludgeon made of astral emptiness.

Georg

I haven't been there and by the sounds of it Jude I really don't want to be. A great write to prepare us to want to fight back.

Newfie Hugs, Rose

I have felt like this a time or two and it is a hard struggle back up to your feet...it is though a little easier if there is someone in your corner rooting for you...
fee

Jude, in so many ways, it was as though this had been written for me...but there's only one difference...I'm fighting back! So good to read your work again!

Darn it Jude, you weren't that Marlboro Man that Flannigan is talking about, in the end it really doesn't matter if you smoke or not, does it. Coming back to you, beating yourself up, and getting punch drunk, aren't others hitting you enough? Anyway I wouldn't know, I was better at wrestling ha, great stuff as always!
Bless You! Jasmin Horst

Wow Jude,

This metaphoric write has me thinking in all ways. Cosmically I say jump on a comet and ride off into the stratosphere with that soul mate/twin soul. Earth to Jude, sometimes life hands us a lot of bumps and we react out of fear, simply stated it's all a matter of leaving the comfort of one shore to cross to another where destiny awaits. Do not let fear rule your world!



Much peace, light, and love,

Amber

i like this! especially the spirit of it!

ouch, brain mush. to face it and squish through, that's brave and the true spirit of being

Great stuff Jude! Worth waiting for. Good to see you again.

After years of colliding with rivals, no doubt a bludgeoning, self-inflicted contusion swells on the opponent's ego, and it is a marvel to capture it all ringside! At times, there have been many different replacement refs fuzzy thinking from the frenzy of memories punched off course by the antagonist, ejecting stripes. Poetic Heavy weight bout classified heavy only in ego like a novice at the altar. In explicit contrasts to the generative olympic poet forces, he is left with shadows of the Fire of the end, smoldering ashes. The lead poet describes it in terms, of this very event of combat. The ropes shaped like a boa constrictor carrying a prophetic force of Amazing Grace, off to loft pipe organs and the winds making music in the cornfields free of concussion...embracing death, destruction, life and regeneration...multileveled metaphors in peace and solitude...

s

Never say "uncle," Jude, fight back with synonyms and fast-track free style, hook 'em with an uppercut of rhyme and kick them when they fall from a sound drubbing of varicosed limericks.