"clenches" poems
*Prologue (goddess)
When the war of the beasts
Brings about the world's end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss
Her gift everlasting
Act 1 (the wanderer)
Infinite in mystery
Is the gift of the goddess
We seek it thus
And take it to the sky
Ripples form on the water's surface
The wandering soul
Knows no rest
Act 2 (the hero)
There is no hate only joy
For you are beloved
By the goddess
Hero of the dawn
Healer of worlds
Dreams of morrow
Hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away
The end is nigh
Act 3 (the abhorred)
My friend, do you fly away now
To the world that abhors you and I
All that awaits you
Is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow
My friend your desire is the bringer of life
The gift of the goddess
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
Act 4 (the avenger)
My friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams
No honour remains
The arrow has left
The bow of the goddess
My soul corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment
To find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber
Legends shall speak
Of sacrifice at world's end
The winds sail over the waters surface
Quietly but surely
Act 5 (the sacrifiser)
Even if the morrow
Is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew
That clenches the land
To spare the sands
The seas and the sky
I offer thee this silent sacrifice*
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
The moon illuminates the tears she sheds as the darkness shields her from this reality.
She opened the portal to her fantasy world and the memories she once hid, finally reappears.
His ability to make her chocolate frame quiver into the palm of his hand just by whispering those 3 words.
The way his alluring eyes would caress and soothe her soul to force her to disclose its hidden secrets.
"Do you mean it?" She quietly whispered into his ears as their essence finally merged into existence.
He was able to tear down her layers of pain, confusion, and hurt as he crossed the threshold into her mind.
As she gazes into his ravishing eyes, she becomes paralyzed as they undress her bare petite physique.
The gateway to her hidden domain steadily closes as the warmth rays rest upon her dried tears.
Her tear stricken face clenches onto the dwindling memories of his dominance over her.
If only he kept to his word, then he would have understood her tears of affection.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
The vulnerability of baring myself fully
clenches the belly
panics the heart
stands my hairs on end.
It is truly the most terrifying thing
to stand in ones authenticity.
And yet. And yet.
The courage it takes.
The great tender strength.
The spine tingling elation.
The heart swells, and magic.
The naked beauty borne, in feeling you have nothing to hide.
The spirit touched ardor of a bare approach to life.
The openings and the mystery.
The expressions: tripping, falling, incomplete, misguided.
The wonderful mistakes, elucidating lessons.
The perfect imperfections.
The easing of honesty.
The engendered humility.
The profundity.
The sense of being touched, touching, and in touch with life.
The unmasked revelations, of full spectral undulation.
The this. The that. The I can accept it all.
The dropping of shame.
The incredible liberation, in shedding that shame.
The finding forgiveness for self, for other.
The quiver of unknowing.
The sweet caress of potential.
The dread. The sorrows. The uncertainties.
All making room for, in their acknowledgement:
Room for what else is there.
Room for laughter, and joy, and luminescence.
Room for flirtation, dancing, spontaneity.
Breaking open.
Melting into Love.
Soaring on the wings of Truth.
The hush, of anxious worry.
The Goodness bestowed.
The empathy.
The compassion.
The connection.
The holy restoration of creative flow.
The fires of real passion.
And everything.
And everything.
And Beauty.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
the magic of sensual pleasure is the most simulating powerful thing that the brain can experience
a simple touch can turn the body into overdrive
heightened senses and heavy breathing
eyes rolled back as the release is soon coming
the body clenches as the ****** approaches
the brain loses consciousness it’s like a dream
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
1. the pH in my stomach has plummeted
to an all time low. as a defense mechanism,
my stomach clenches.
2. my jaw is extremely sore from grinding
my teeth while i was sleeping (and having
the regular nightmares.)
3. sometimes, my joints decide to act like they
are eighty years old instead of twenty.
4. that's what i get for burying the acidity of
the self loathing.
5. now i am a pinata except i'm hallow.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
in autumn,
gentle fingers press forget-me-not seeds
between her teeth,
warm lips breathe "i love you"s into
her throat.
all winter,
she clenches her teeth,
holds her breath,
grins only in black and white.
at the hint of spring,
blue petals climb the cracks
between white boulders,
cultivate hope.
with the heat of summer,
she crunches ice,
tries to excavate the reminders
from her gums,
comes home with ***** fingers
and the taste of blood
on her tongue.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
Do not utter a syllable
For the reaper lurks at the door
Dim the lights as our eyes are widened
Sit in a desperate, huddled mass
Feel the shivering, helpless creature on the left
Hear my traitorous lungs exhaling, surrendering my position
My heart pounding, screaming at my body
Ordering me to run, to fight, to ****
"Do not go gentle into that good night,"
As Dylan Thomas so elegantly stated
Yet it is not a time for romantic visions of heroism
Beowulf's idealism will not save us here
Sobbing, shivering, ***** stained American Eagle
Sweat drenched Under Amour Tees and hoodies
Feet ironically quivering in red and orange Nike Shocks
A 243 pound lineman blubbering under his breath
He wants his mother, his daddy, his pillow, to go home
Another boy, Darrel, clenches his fists, readies for attack
Cassidy sits silently, emotionless, statuesque, frozen in time
And I . . . What do I do? . . . What do I do?
Do I flinch like Sir Gawain in the face of death?
Or do I . . . . . . What do I do?
God, may I never discover the answer to this evil query
God help us stop the violence consuming innocent children
Render CODE RED obsolete
Yet, CODE RED will parish not
For society feeds on fictional fame
Fifteen minutes that Warhol never could have painted
Now it will be duplicated like so many Campbell's Soup cans
CODE RED CODE RED CODE RED CODE RED
And . . . What will I do?
What will I do?
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Laying flat on the shadowed ground
Of the meadow that holds my sanity,
I stare up into the glistening moon
As it glances upon the wet tree tops.
The grass scraping the back of my neck
Begins to freeze to that of an iceberg
With the cool crisp wind
With the shivering leaves.
My mind begins to wonder from my surroundings
To what clenches my heart at night,
To the devils that tore me down,
To the angels that tried hard to fix me.
My thoughts numb as if from the temperature,
Sending tingles up my spine
And horror into my mind
As all feeling ceases to exist.
A rapid breath escapes my chapped lips.
A rapid breath like the harsh wind
Now whipping through the lonely willow,
The one weeping loudly by my side.
The sky turns into a black mess,
Flipping from its once clear blue state.
Blinding lines fill the sky,
Imitating the roots of a flower.
But it is not a delicate flower.
It is destruction
As it hits the shaking tree,
Forcing it to crash onto the once sunny meadow.
It hits the dancing grass
With a bang and a thud,
But not before the scream,
My scream, escapes from my throat.
I do not fear for my life here; I fear for the willow.
The willow that is so much like my beaten heart,
The willow that I care about more then the voices
In the forest behind me that command me to run.
Getting on my knees,
I crawl across the mud
Until I reach the dying willow
That rests surrounded by clanging lights.
Stroking the trunk of the tree,
I let out a sob that catches in my tight throat.
The willow's brittle bark crumbles as I touch it,
Leaving a brown dust on the tips of my fingers.
With blurred sight, I search the tree.
I search it for any sign of life.
One lone catkin hangs from the side of a branch;
I reach for it with my stained hand.
Delicately, I wind my fingers around the dry flower.
Smiling down at the last thing to bloom from the ****** willow,
I pluck it from the branch and stare at the storm above my head.
I start to wonder what the thundering storm meant.
Tightening my sweaty palm, I crush the catkin.
I crush it with resent and a need for revenge.
Revenge for my ****** willow;
The one that will never return to health.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
What boots it, thy virtue,
What profit thy parts,
While one thing thou lackest,
The art of all arts!
The only credentials,
Passport to success,
Opens castle and parlor,—
Address, man, Address.
The maiden in danger
Was saved by the swain,
His stout arm restored her
To Broadway again:
The maid would reward him,—
Gay company come,—
They laugh, she laughs with them,
He is moonstruck and dumb.
This clenches the bargain,
Sails out of the bay,
Gets the vote in the Senate,
Spite of Webster and Clay;
Has for genius no mercy,
For speeches no heed,—
It lurks in the eyebeam,
It leaps to its deed.
Church, tavern, and market,
Bed and board it will sway;
It has no to-morrow,
It ends with to-day.
2.5k
The distressed clenches his or her heart in agony,
Someone ripped it apart and left it for dead.
The distressed wipes a single tear from his or her face,
Hoping, Waiting, Wishing,
For the returned of the beloved.
This is ********
There is nothing to be beautified
Over the pain of losing your love.
It's ugly.
It's the reason for grief, insanity, hatred.
The glorification of heartbreak
Is what causes the heart to reach farther
For something that cannot be reached anymore.
Love is not pain,
Heartbreak is not beautiful.
Love is beautiful,
Heartbreak is pain.
Alas, the beautiful facade of heartbreak,
Is deceit.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
A stampede of elephants
Running through the rooms of my mind
As their legless bodies ask
"How?"
A toucan flies to rest on a thought
With two million and two branches reaching towards my heart.
"How many cans can a toucan can if a toucan could can cans?"
Now this monkey must be joking
Those are my feelings he's holding.
And he continues to toss them about.
He peels off the skin and throws it over his shoulder
And takes one big bite out of the happiest one.
And this little duck waddles,
Left foot, right foot.
The left side is fine, but his right
Sends a nerve that clenches a fist to a glass window.
"Quack, quack."
Snip snap,
And there goes the vertebrae in my spine.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Faded Glory
Sweatshirt clenches my
teary salt seas.
Mascara on cotton
like drizzle upon Asphalt.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
"We fit together so nicely,"
You said
And I completely agree
Something so right, so meant to be.
It starts with a sweat
And a intense wash of cold
In reaction to the heat
On the inside of me.
A shiver-- or two
Quaking my form
And there you are
Between my thighs.
I'm holding my breath
Or I'm breathing heavy
And I'm biting my lip
Cause it feels so nice.
We fit together like puzzle pieces
Rocking and stretching our limbs
Colliding in a moment
Of a rising ******
Then it comes quick
Only a split second to think
To realize what is really happening
Just long enough to react.
Starting with a flicker
Of a fiery sensation
Between my legs
And it spreads, like a wildfire
It pops
Explodes
And I feel it everywhere
A release.
My muscles ****
And it's like I'm trying to escape from my own skin
My jaw clenches
Then goes slack.
My eyes roll
My mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts
There's no sense of control
Just waves of reactions upon reactions.
A thousand different tickles
Down my thighs and to my toes
Like the sensation of warm water
When you're bitterly cold.
After the initial shake of the explosion
My mind is useless
And I have to put myself back in my body
Because for a moment I was free.
The tension is gone
Every part of me is loose
And everything is sensitive and temperamental
Like a candles flame.
For a moment there's nothing
Nothing but my body
No mind
No thoughts
No silly people things
Just the raw
The primal
The true being I am
And I see you..
You're between my thighs
Starstruck by the moment
Marveling at my body
As it rolls into yours.
I'm ****** back into the act
Like a magnet to it's kind
And you're so ******* beautiful
And you're all mine
And here, right now
We're one.
My body is powerless to you
And yours is powerless to me
We don't speak
We simply feel
And that's a closeness most don't achieve.
A bond
Like no other
Body
And mind.
"We fit together so nicely,"
You said
And I completely agree
Something so right, so meant to be.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
Mental debates of moving on and
Leaving the past, she dreams
Of working things out to make
Them last, she’s all too familiar
With solitude, its wonders,
Its dedication to her companionship
They walk hand in hand
Looking, staring at silhouettes, still vivid
and bright as the day that she first opened
Her eyes to Dalia smirks, truly hurt
She watches in awe
As he carefully places
The pieces to the puzzle of
A black and white field
Strategies flow easily from behind
The dam that is a set of porcelain eyes
Sworn to secrecy only for self fulfillment
Along the checkered floor she explored
Boundaries she had never encountered
He leads her as his pawn of choice
Through torturous escapades against
Rookie creatures and staggering Horsemen
They wane on her chances of successfully
Obtaining the crown of glory
He pushes her forward with a touch
Soft and soothing, no reason
To doubt his reasoning
She gives up the greatest of gifts, trust
In his hands she quietly moves
With no complaints, forward
Out toward a troublesome mine field
With every space she’s placed in
She’s laced with waste traced with her Demise,
he plays the creator,
How humorous it seems
The slightest sense of secure attachment
Provides a false sense of security
The way he touches her persuades
Her he’ll never let her fall
In his embrace she doesn’t see
The smirk of disgust as his face
Twisted, wretched and gruesome
Grins at the only pleasure she provides him
Empty bliss he can only wish to fill
His grasp, once tender and warm
Clenches down on her with splintering pain
With silent screams of despair
She comes closer to her peril
Glimmering crown, in the scope of her sight
The only sense of hope left in her mind
The next move can be her last
With only hopes of a clear road
As he once again guides her
Calm and steady with the kindness
He once displayed when she
Naïvely dreamt of how her life
Truly should become
Her struggles slowly ease away
From the pain she once felt
Never showed it even in the
Biggest battles he lead her through
Now she lay motionless alongside her
Fallen obstacles in complete darkness
Six cold silent walls surround
Her in her slumber until another
Cruel puppeteer falls across
The coffin of demise and despair
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
I'm going to tell you a story,
About a girl,
Who wanted nothing but fame and glory.
She dreamt of days without a worry.
A world when people have no need to be sorry.
She sits back and enjoys the moment,
With music in her ears as her docent.
Tunes from varying artist,
From tove lo, to G eazy, to the weeknd.
Creating moods that she never knew exist.
Everything was just pefect.
It began to rain,
She turns down the volume.
She cries quietly,
Listening to the stories drops create in her brain.
She tries not to remember the pain,
But the memories continued to swirl and destroy her,
Like a bunch of internal hurricanes.
Then, she remembers the relief of cutring open her veins.
She clenches her fists,
She tries to resit.
The voices begin to scream,
Stripping away her self esteem.
She covers her ears,
She continues to Cry!
"No more fears no more fears!"
She pops some pills trying to get high.
But she took too much,
And she dies.
This is just a story,
Of a girl who was used for fame and glory.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
She stares into the mirror, numb.
All she sees is the imperfections.
Her body trembles as she runs her fingers along each stretch mark.
Tears stream down her cheeks, bluring her vision.
She falls to the floor, trying to hide her stomach so the fat doesn't show.
She wishes she could be the girl she once was.
She reaches for the knife off the counter and just clenches it in her hand.
Sobbing harder, she drops it knowing that she'll become stronger some day.
She gradually composes herself, rising to her feet.
She'll break this cycle one day.
It might not be soon but it will happen.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
Pitiful, she's alone on the inside
Cold hard hands trace the outline of her heart
Awaiting the day the pain will subside
Soon with luck the hands may rip her apart
Life is so hopeless, life is so loveless
Standing alone at the edge of a cliff
All she wanted was to feels loves caress
Someone can save her, they just don't know it
Tears flow endlessly down her cold, pale cheeks
She has given up, no happiness here
Staring around at the world 'o so bleak
It's time to jump, her heart clenches in fear
Someone please save her, please give her your hand
Take the pain that has scarred her like a brand
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
She sits silently
Shellacked, superglued sans sound.
Cornered, Christine clenches
Claws covering cowardice
Comfort.
Taut tongue tangibly taciturn
Turns, transforms til truly torpid.
Silence caused transformation.
She is now an armchair.
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
it feels like someone is squeezing your heart
their fist wraps around it
and clenches hard
then quickly lets go
and you inhale, exhale
your breaths are shallow
and your entire body feels weak,
your head is light
and your ***** grin doesn’t go away
when your mind wanders,
it always ends up at the same place
you know it’s not love
but it sure as hell feels good
every little thing feels special
a nickname,
a text,
a goodbye hug,
a goofy smile
and you just wait,
for the ride to begin
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 3:20 AM UTC
Dear heart. I am the one in charge here. Neuroscience has long taken the responsibility of handling emotions from you. I am in charge of everything in this body, dear heart, I tell you what to do, and you do it. I think we both know I'm the better thinker here.
So why must you ache, why must you suffer for what I do? For every scalding thought you recoil in your cage and pound on the bars of your prison, wishing to be worn on someone's sleeve, dear heart, you've been hidden for too long. You don't know how this world works, and I do, so you must obey me when I tell you what to do. I know it hurts to keep beating despite of how the chemical reactions in my mind may affect you. For every feeling I take as a thought, every thought you mistake as a feeling, we both protest. For a long, long time we refuse to communicate with each other and I know you are tempted to rest, to stop beating because you're the one aching. It's not me, dear heart, that clenches like a fist, crumples inward like a useless scrap of paper, collapses on itself like a star on the brink of a supernova, it is not me, dear heart, that gets hurt.
Why do I only ache when I'm facing a mathematical problem, a complex theory, a questionable logic, a memory-loss crisis, why do I only suffer when I think really hard, even though I am the one in charge of emotions and feelings? Why is it you, not me, that a knife buries itself in when there is emotional pain? Why is it you that has be shredded into blood strings and crimson feathers of sinew, as if you were plucked from an angel's bleeding wings while heaven screeched its protest? Why are you the only one that is punished?
Dear heart, I am sorry. I didn't know why the body is made this way, that you have to be the one on the edge of a cliff while I sit somewhere safely plucking your strings. You are the one facing the endless plummet into a chasm of fangs and jagged rock, and it is up to me to make sure you stay alive, why, dearest, dearest heart do you have to be shackled to me with a silken collar? I can control you, but you have the freedom to fall, and if you do, I will be the one to grab at a protruding edge somewhere on the face of the cliff, and I will pull hard to get us back up.
Because if I don't, we will both die, and I'm the thinker here, I'm the one responsible for both of us, dear heart, I am the one in charge here!
You won't survive on your own. That's why I'm here to take care of us, because neither of us would exist without the other, without me you will be dead, without you, I will be worse than dead, so dear heart. Dearest heart, let me take the reins, let me hold the strings, let me tell you what to do, I'm sorry you can't be free. I'm sorry I hurt you with the thoughts and the memories inside me.
Let me control you. Let them call me abusive, let them call me terrible, let them call me cold and cunning, let them tell the world I am foul and violent, I don’t care!
I am here for you. I will take care of you. And when all you wish is to cease the wearying repetition of living, I will give you reason to keep breathing.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
Scientists say chocolate releases
the same hormones into your blood
as being with your loved one does.
And so I'm sitting at my desk
and it's an ungodly hour to be eating candy
but you're not here and all I want is that
sweet, sweet satisfaction of having
the taste of you on my lips.
I'm craving you, a desire that
clenches at my stomach; all I want
is some oxytocin in my system.
I lean back in my chair and sigh, tearing
another wrapper as I do, each morsel a tease.
This cannot compare to the richness
of your eyes, or the silkiness of your thighs.
This makes my heart beat faster
but you- you make it pound. This sends warm
sensations through my body but your touch
sends lightning through my veins.
It's almost morning now,
wrappers are strewn about my desk
and yet I still crave you.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
There is a beetle on the high street,
pushing the sun along at a fraction-
0f-a-mile-per-hour. He is pondering
his plans for the summer.
Perhaps different venues?
Perhaps different dung?
But he knows it's all foolishness.
He never goes anywhere.
Then a god falls out of the sky.
Not a particularly large one,
a medium-sized god as far as
they go. Roughly human-
shaped. Not counting those
streaming banners of fire
that pour from his eyes.
Few humans have burning eyes.
A dagger drips from an open
wound and he clenches his
blood (it is his own blood) in his hand.
More are coming he realizes.
All of them. And he's quite
correct. Without trumpets or
lights or choruses or bowls or
scrolls, it starts to rain.
The beetle pauses in his
pilgrimage to survey the
man underneath the god's feet.
A hand in a crater of asphalt
with a keen, nigh-inaudible
wheeze of breath. A cough
and a choke.
And the beetle scuttles on.
They fall from clouds that aren't,
I mean, actually in the sky. They crush
buildings and businessmen, They
eat fountains. They descend into an
unthinkable and unthinking
age like a dizzied chorus that cannot
pick up on the beat. Purple sash
and green helm, They build mountains.
Teeth chip around the clay- the men
and women- like fireworks.
The gods' great works resolve
like a finished slider puzzle, like the
back of the sun. Mannequins watch
the moving marble for a moment.
But the Mutes eventually find a voice,
they shout, they run into the fray.
Tantalus' mouth fills with
wine. The beetle walks around his
head. Sisyphus' back was broken
by a boulder. The poor little fellow
descends into an inferno and
climbs the devil's back like a
Purgative mountaineer. Such struggle,
thinks he, to have to take a detour.
Sky sets fire to the shell pink
sun at night.
The liquid spheres engulf ideas
on a dry stretch of ocean.
Clouds splinter in a victor's hands,
are frozen shut.
and everything sinks back home
in the middle of a wor
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 2:32 PM UTC
a mild headache,
loss of appetite,
burning rubber, grinding
to a halt
she lets out a whimper
tears take a lovely
stroll down nostalgia
avenue;
tap dancing
across the New York
skyline
she clenches her teeth,
legs spread apart, a web
of deceit, a rainbow head
peaks out and whispers
secrets into my ears
we are all alive now
rest upon my ***** your
worry laden head, sore from
all the oral ***
this grave of carnal flesh
is our only pure rest
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC