Chris Jibero


A Do-Or-Die

Not he to lose a match
Not he on this turf
Weighted in his favour
Wherein his fanatical fans
Are his to rent to cheer
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein his opponents are his
To choose
Preferring those he has maimed
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein the referee with his
Assistants is his to hire
And fire
And the yellow and red cards
The piper's to flaunt and flash
As his whim dictates
To massage the jagged cocky ego
Of the playing piper's picky payer
For it is a do-or-die
Not he to lose a match
Wherein the rules and regulations
Are his to influence
From the sidelines
Even in the middle of a game
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein his goalpost can be shrunk
At will to frustrate his opponents
And make them wail like babies
Whose mothers' overgrazed breasts
Bear milk no more
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein he, a skillful captain,
Leading a rag-tag team, uses
An unholy hand of a junkie god
To score a winning goal
Because foul is fair
That ends well in his favour
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein the match commissioner
Is his regular booze partner
Whose match report is prepared
With a lot of his input
Over conquered beer bottles
And steamy pepper soup plates
At Madam Jolly-Jolly's roadside
Joint where her ever-ready
Mushroom maids run their hungry
Hands over his hoary hair because
His lady-friendly provocative pockets
Never run dry of unpaid match bonuses
For it is a do-or-die

Not he to lose a match
Wherein the result is his megaphone's
The selected voice to announce
To effeminate men that may object
Feebly or forever remain silent
For it is a do-or-die

Suddenly, blasts with uproar
Of anguish comes bearing
No distinct address and jolts
All: players,
Officials, fans, foul-play
Spectators and the outnumbering
Fence-sitters, our cosmetic cosy domain,
Culprits by fear and silence,
Interested only in eking out
Peaceful dismal daily bread from
Mold-infested baking ingredients
For it is a do-or-die

Alas! how this do-or-die trade
Has done us no good
But bought us a collective
Colossal death displayed in profuse
Tears, sweat and blood
That mingle in a surging flood
That would berth a better generation

(c) chris Jibero,2007.

Submitted: Saturday, July 10, 2010
Edited: Thursday, July 29, 2010

Do you like this poem?
1 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Do-Or-Die by Chris Jibero )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 3 comments » Updates

New Poems

  1. पापा, sushant jha
  2. The Merely Imagined Author Writing The L.., mary douglas
  3. Will you come to me tonight?, Erato
  4. पापा, sushant jha
  5. पापा, sushant jha
  7. Returning from the Broken Mirror Myth, Gabriel Sumon
  8. Tour Of Life, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. ZZ Animals Flunk These 2014 Candidates, Saiom Shriver
  10. my pool days, lee fones

Poem of the Day

poet John Clare

I love to see the old heath's withered brake
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing,
...... Read complete »


Modern Poem

poet Grace Paley


Trending Poems

  1. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  2. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  3. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  4. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  5. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  6. All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
  7. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  8. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  9. A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
  10. Invictus, William Ernest Henley

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]