"crunches" poems
Heart crunches million veins
Kicking pressure to its highest level
Grinning from ear to ear
Gladly to meet you here
After the dark clouds heavy water
Over the rainbow liquid of joy splatter
When I'm with you, nobody's after
After a day of grief and monster
Finally it's bliss and laughter
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:29 AM UTC
I gulp down an Energy-Booster-X,
blue and sour.
Siri turns on Radiohead,
15 Step.
I step up to the pyramid of treadmills,
bouncing and salty.
Surrounded by Greek gods,
Beta, Alpha Gam, Pike.
I motivate myself by my surroundings,
bulging and ****
Cardio first and then core,
2 miles, 200 crunches.
I connect my sweat in a line down my shirt,
blotchy and stagnant.
Everyone stretches in the end,
Thighs, biceps, pecs aflame.
I will not stop until I am perfection,
beautiful and sculpted.
Alarm set again,
For 6:30am, 7:30pm
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
With a body temperature
Below 96 degrees Fahrenheit,
Wrapping yourself in bed sheets
As translucent as your skin
Seems so nice but
Every minute you spend
Shivering is more calories burned,
So you try to ignore it
Or maybe you do two hundred more crunches
Because being athletic is healthy,
Right?
You open the pantry only to
deny yourself sustenance because you
are unworthy of
These simple pleasures, and
You almost let yourself
Eat an apple but
When you remember how
Good that girl in
the thinspo you have
Hidden on your phone looks,
You stop.
You flinch when your mother
Calls your skin porcelain,
Because that word means
You failed to restrain yourself
And you have always been taught to
Resist temptation, and
This is the ultimate test.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
The art of hating yourself
Is not easily achieved.
It takes motavation,
Words whispered across lunch rooms,
"Ugly, fat, stupid, freak"
It takes observation,
Hours staring at the pretty faces in the magazine,
Hours of trying hard to be something else
Hours feeling more lost then when you started.
It takes practice,
Feeling insecure as you walk down the hallway
Refusing food during the day,
doing crunches by night.
And of course it takes a certain type of person
For it to really take over the mind
A perfectionist
A person with a bad past or a uncertain future
A girl who blames herself
A girl who knows its her fault
If you are truly serious
about embarking on this journey,
This journey of unsatisfaction and secrecy,
Pushing people away and always, always
Craving,
Striving,
Searching,
Starving,
Needing,
That promise of perfection,
Take a class from the master
Or two
Or three
She's right here in town
The most dedicated and driven
The best of the best
She has cultivated
The Art of Hating herself
And she's the person I see in the mirror
Staring right back at me
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
I enter Auschwitz 1.
Apprehensive crunches with every step.
I stand in a gas chamber.
Fully clothed.
With oxygen flowing freely.
I stand on a spot where thousands have stood before me.
But I'm able to make an exit,
Yet I'm rooted to the floor,
Transfixed with horror.
I feel like the last remaining tree,
surrounded by a forest of death.
Deforestation makes me sick.
*
Birkenau has a secret
that it doesn't want to tell.
A broken ending stood still.
The arches.
The ruins.
The tracks.
Thuds of reality slapping my face.
Stood inside the bleak barracks,
our guide asks us
"Imagine what it would like to be here -
What you'd see,
smell,
hear."
My eyes widen open in a scream,
they sting, fighting back at the image conjured within my mind.
I take a sharp breath
and close my eyes.
I am scared.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
"Everyone wants to be a little anorexic" she says
"You know, like, in a glamorous way, like fashion friendly anorexic"
I bite my cheek and nod, pretend to agree
All I can think of is waking up to stars dancing on the ceiling
Pale skin with bruises of unknown origins
And battered feet on and off the scale
Almonds in Ziploc baggies
Bite marks on fingers
Hair down the drain
Measuring crunches by the marks they leave on your spine
And battered feet on and off the scale
Enough water to turn organs into boats
Eating an apple with a fork and knife
Desperate hands grasping for ribs
And battered feet on and off the scale
Standing and the world going dark
Coughing around shots of apple cider vinegar
Carrying an emergency rice cake for weak spells
And battered feet on and off the scale
Enough green tea to drown organs
Sugar free gum to mask the smell of decaying organs
Whatever nail polish covers yellow and purple
And battered feet on and off the scale
How many calories are in toothpaste
Thinspo blogs
Pillows squeezed between thighs
And battered feet on and off the scale
Is today the day my heart gives out
Waking every day in a new body
Fingers clasped around wrists
And battered feet on and off the scale
Notebooks filled with numbers
Purple crescents under eyes
Fingers clasped around forearms
And battered feet on and off the scale
Elbows knocking into hipbones
Being scared of your own reflection
Lies to get out of dinner
And battered feet on and off the scale
The stench of *****
Oxygen that tastes of Splenda
Fingers clasped around biceps
And bleeding feet on and off the scale
If this is your idea of glamour
Then you can have it
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
***** feet
***** of them ache
they're dry
all dried out, moisture to face and digestive tract make little difference
but comfort a little sort of; maybe
subdue to replenishing
skip the pain with a drink fucken, fucken drink fucken
dust lingers in the brain, it swirls
a cloud of ground envelops the shape of u
u become covered
u have a layer,
salty,
and dry
and 'organic'
(surely bio (though im not sure what is or why are))
full city boy, suburban boy, not particularly gritty boy
along side hippies
and volunteers all tripppy
and unwashed, and un plastic
yet forcefully hemped
drunk of micro beer
and burnt brown and blotchy red
and wire-y
and dry
and matted
as if nothing really matters except for principles
misguided and randomly enforced
feel like a husk; peanut shell
insides swallowed by the mouth of the party embodied
a monsterous sweaty man tanned and thickly bearded
and beered
fat dreads fall around and surround u; a forest of hair
a circle encroaching of fuzzy pillars in fibres
entrapped inside them; feel their lingering time matted hold
a wealth of effort to become unkempt; they are bars
they are walls
and the FACE!
……………………… ………………………………… oh
looming down, wafts of armpit vapour cloud; a looming puft that surrounds
engorged by the scent as it circles u, the mouth that lowered onto u
chews u and spills bits of u
chomp chomp
protein for vegetarians; u; ur rigour ur vigour ur guts
eaten in a flurry of chomps and slurps and it crunches
and it grates
like the rocks on the ***** of ur feet it grates
u are digested
and reused
as they would like
but for them; for a collective u dived into
for fun
2 days to peddle ur wares
to progress ( admittedly through some days of regression…)
for all humans, and Humans; for fun
on monday we will repent
for the damages waged on the inside of the body
and the outsides too
for some gain
i guess on this which we settle
for always for display for fun
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
Under the moonlight the creatures all glare
At a beautiful Fairy with rich Autumn hair
She crunches the leaves under foot where she treads
As she dances and giggles at the stars overhead!
This beautiful creature in a dress olive green
Comes out to play when the humans do dream
With mind like a child and a voice like a harp
She skips and she sings for the creatures of dark!
The mesmerised Hedgehogs, a line dance do they
Kicking their heels in the cold yellow hay
Most creatures around all decide to join in
Laughing and wearing their best Autumn grins!
Sweet Nellie Owl gives a “Twittery twoo!”
And she opens her wings to applaud all they do
Then all of the moths with formation of wings
Glide past with valour making circles of wind!
Then gusts stir the leaves in the chill of the night
And the beautiful Fairy just smiles with delight
She knows the display we’ll wake up to at morn
Golden leaves at our feet as the Autumn's now born!
© By LynnKaren
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
raise the glass high high high and press hard high,
a blue and cherry ring round rosy thigh,
snapped red sting of infected eye and tooth strung on string.
broken wing crunches, candid cries let tears fly
in desperate persecution.
red
sticky red and beautiful
flesh-fly's food becomes a diamond wing,
flying in swirling skies of glitter.
The world looks better through a kaleidoscope.
claw the eyes out out out and spit stress out,
a crooked view on nose and cheeks and pout
deep blue rows on distended snout as swollen skin grows.
drunken woes crunch and broken knuckles shout
in hasty intemperance.
blue
puffy blue and beautiful
deep stout bruises becomes a diamond glow
spinning in burst vein's woes of glitter.
The world looks better through a kaleidoscope.
dump the body down down down and pat dirt down,
a stealthy sin of spite and muddy frown,
**** green sight of a ***** crown hidden in the night.
swirls of light break thoughts up to run around
in crude decomposition.
green
sickly green and beautiful
dirt-drowned flesh becomes diamond sprites,
dancing in wormy gowns of glitter.
The world looks better through a kaleidoscope.
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 12:42 PM UTC
After the rain, came the heavy snow.
Falling with silent thuds through the trees,
the bush and below.
Muffled crunches of boot ensconced children
zipping up parkas against flakes by the million.
Stillness in my heart slipping through the broken parts,
dripping to the snow in colors of blue and vermillion.
The quiet flakes gently holding my confusion and loneliness.
Caressing my cheeks as a mother would to her child crying
in whispered tearfulness
A painful summer ambled slowly away leaving a far fairer autumn
but as winter and her snows knocked at my door, the mountain beckoned, and I lost him.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
glasses 'you look beautiful'
her teeth are a little yellow, she
brushes in the morning. somehow
they're still a Colgate white. she mouths
Iluvu eyes squint quiet smile arches it's
spine and finger caresses the barely stubble of my face. her blonde peach fuzz mini moustache tilts left and kisses false worry, charisma. she takes
it as insult when I read line about peach
fuzz moustache. obligatory insult *shes a
woman, women don't have moustaches
haha* she stretches like a resting cat and
returns to thought as my suicide
hangover crunches into a headache of
blind relief
relief
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
I once was weak, dragged to the floor
Left in the dust, couldn't take anymore
I felt useless like a cracked rainbow
Desperation still seemed to grow
Nothing would ever seem to go right
I was in the dark without a light
I still kept taking those punches
One of the people life crunches
Then she came and she picked me up
I was in the shadows no longer
She rescued me when I'd had enough
She helped me to feel a little bit stronger
I was down, lower that I'd ever been
I was invisible, one of the unseen
Felt like I'd been dragged through the hedge
I was so close to being pushed off the edge
I had lost faith, I no longer believed in hope
I became near to the end of my rope
It looked like that nothing ever mattered
My mirror was all broken and shattered
Then she came and she picked me up
I was in the shadows no longer
She rescued me when I'd had enough
She helped me to feel a little bit stronger
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 1:06 PM UTC
To be loved or
To love
Must we choose?
I am the beloved
Yet I see myself from only within looking out
And believe I
am just the lover
Unchoosing to be both
In spite of, and thanks to my experience
I believe in the moments where we are both the beloved
Those moments fade
Into cool memories
Cozy in my mind
Until they become stinging cold
Like when my bare foot crunches down into the thin layer of snow halfway the drive to get the mail
Oh how it feels to be the lover
Oh how it feels to be the loved
The lover finds ecstasy in their beloved
Why then must the lover expect anything from the beloved?
Is the gift not in the experience of loving?
What is it to be desired
If you do not know desire yourself?
Will we be ever be satisfied?
I surely hope not.
Nov 1, 2022
Nov 1, 2022 at 2:46 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
The moon calls to me tonight—
I cannot resist her charms.
I slip beyond the confines of my room
To let the evening soak into my soul.
A full moon spills her silver light,
Darkness braided with her glow.
Rocky earth crunches beneath my feet,
Each step alive with sound and scent.
The high desert hums its song:
Stars glimmer, coyotes cry.
A noisy stillness fills the air,
As daylight’s brightness fills the sky.
My heaven is green grass,
And scent of sagebrush and hay.
I belong in this moonlit nirvana,
Where constellations burn like fire.
Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 1:52 PM UTC
Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops
They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet
Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat
Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
Sweetheart you need to be have a flatter stomach
Put down that soda pop
Or one day it will make you pop
Put down those puff pastries
Or one day they will make you the Pillsbury Dough-girl.
Take up crunches and sit-ups
And just ignore when your body screams for food
Take up ******* in and waist trainers
And just ignore that ******* in all day weakens your muscles pushing you further from your ideal
Hey good lookin’ you’d be prettier if you had smaller thighs
Stop eatin’ them donuts
They turnin’ you too dough
Stop ordering your pizzas in larges
They turnin’ you large
Start doing some squats
Just ignore your back screaming in pain
Start running sum more
Just ignore that bigger thighs mean a lower risk of heart disease and premature death
And a simple request from everyone else: make sure your hair always looks like a girl from a movie, that your skin is flawless, you dress perfectly, are always happy, smiling constantly, have an aesthetically pleasing Instagram, be in an adorable relationship, know all the newest music and shows
You know what
just be perfect
but
not to perfect
-love society
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
Panasonic and Sony beeping
in custom made Reid & Taylor pockets.
A trade for a Rolex throned on his wrist in lieu of
once existent dreams, in now hollow sockets.
Adrenaline pumping before
high stakes meetings and brunches.
Calculating the dose of his choice of drug,
penthouse suites and timeline crunches.
Dizzy with ambition, painting
******* bleached canvasses.
Narcissistic laughter aimed to beguile others,
he, for whom his relaxants are stresses.
Dealing with the Devil himself,
power tainted and ill-gotten,
the realization that humans are not beyond sale;
in markets, mergers and acquisitions.
Recessions, Inflations, cruel overdoses
of risk, of danger unspoken.
And when he surfaces again to consciousness,
profits, losses both taken and broken.
Lost in the sewers filled with;
stock brokers and agents alike: the pawnors,
a haughty expression with green bills,
to score his ecstasy, capital owners.
Another dollar, another hit
never enough to sleep remembering the day.
A Corporate ****** scouring for riches,
a high, a trance not soon before long will sway.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
i can hear it now -the pine needles making a soft carpet and the leaves rustling,
dancing with their partners and laying with the soft crunches.
and there were rivers, rustling along the beds and laughing,
growing deeper and flowing to the sea.
we’d pile in the car, and run through the forest,
let the cool air kiss our faces, run shivering to warm buildings,
drink the warm cider and wrap scarves around each other.
it was warmer than summer would ever be.
i can see it now -the sunlight streaming through the trees,
trees and rivers i learned to make time for,
and us holding hands as we looked for directions,
the road stretching before us and hills rolling with golden leaves.
sunlight streamed through my classroom windows,
as i ran to school in boots, stepping towards my friends,
sitting huddled with each other,
because we felt whole.
i can smell it now -the fires, soft and warm and comforting.
we’d stop at these towns, low river towns, and look around in awe.
how could you live here, where the leaves are always gold? where the cold river runs so deep?
where the drink are so warm? where the clouds hang above you?
have you seen the sea in autumn? it turns grey and the sky grows cold. yet, the boat rides,
in the stinging sea air, seem all the more fun. and yet, the market smells all the more warm,
as the children walk around in wonderment,
gloved hands clutched tightly with their parents.
i can breathe it in now -the loneliness of a world that seems to be in it’s twilight,
but in reality is simply content to drive the mornings away, stopping to see cold buildings,
and allow the leafy afternoons to sink into an evening, where the lamps turn on,
and we sit in watch the stars in the gorge at night.
now, i remember, how much i loved all of you. we could listen to soft banjo music,
eat our sandwiches in the warm car, dress up and step into the autumn chill,
we’d explore any village and taste their hot chocolate, then stay as long as we wanted.
and then we’d move on.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
In a tiny allotment right next to the zoo
A miniature jungle was planted and grew
The flora was dense and the air became hot
But confined to a tidy rectangular plot
An unthinkable duo of creatures converged
And it's said that a spanking new species emerged
For a curious beast was reportedly seen
Roaming and munching on anything green
Make haste! Away! It's the Buffagorilla!
A shredder of lettuce and cereal killer
With hooves at the front and hands at the rear
The Buffagorilla is near!
It shambles about at the darkest of hours
On hedges it crunches and bunches of flowers
On daffolil bulbs and petunia petals
With hearty aplomb on a cluster of nettles
Covertly perusing with maximum hush
It can wander through gardens disguised as a bush
No carrot or parsnip is safe in its bed
And the marrows are quaking in vegetable dread
Depart! Retreat! It's the Buffagorilla!
The broccoli butcher and vegetable killer
With ape like features and horns of a steer
The Buffagorilla is near!
So if you hear a mention of butternut theft
Or notice a garden, all bare and bereft
Insure your potatoes for damage and loss
Give the salad a purely precautionary toss
For a creature is roaming the byway and track
With its legs at the front and its arms at the back
And it might be your gooseberries or chervil he spies
So I beg you take heed as I once more advise
Be gone! Take flight! It's the Buffagorilla!
The strawberry napper and cucumber killer
Just hide in your cellar and steer well clear
The Buffagorilla is near!
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Hello you say as
you saunter through my door to
flop onto the couch and
fluster me with a lazy grin.
got any food?
I am elbow deep in a bag of nachos
why?I ask suspiciously
and you smile wider.
Because I'm hungry, you say
and
kind of fried.
Of course you are
and you
laugh and grab the bag
your fingers brush mine amongst the
crinkly chips and
the artificial cheese dusting.
Who, you ask later between
crunches, is hotter. Gerard Butler or
Johnny Depp?
I nibble a chip in
consideration distracted
by your arm sneaking
around my waist.
It is obviously
Gerard I say because of
reasons I forget when you
start to kiss me.
The nachos suddenly lose
importance because
you taste like
smoke, cheese
and a friday afternoon.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
There is nothing so constant as
a dirt road in Nebraska,
beyond where the pavement ends.
This timeline beneath my feet
Crunches on and on,
Further than even I know.
This methodical sound of time passing,
Echoes off the fields of an ancient prairie
so superior to its cousin, the **** carpet
of my grandma’s house where
I would hide all my coal-colored jellybeans,
Pretending they were herds of cattle, grazing
Along dirt roads, such as this—
My venerable trail of rock,
Stretching out as far as time perfected.
A trail of ceaseless rock
Worn down by the years of
feet stomping to the memories
of the house, and the jellybeans, and the grandma,
all outlived by a dirt road that reminds me
for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
I let the under cooked carrot cubes play with ginger hues and pork broth in my mouth. Their dull edges slightly carved my tongue but the soup did pass like ocean waves to the seashore. It left me essentially wanting more. Down my esophagus it goes as I cramp down the vitamin C, B12(?) and a sorry excuse to a quick fix dinner. It was good all the same. It was those spring onion stems that bonded together next to the pork. Crunches of fresh grass and a morning Sun.
My laptop holds the key to what could possibly be my ticket to the bed in no where near the intention...the drive to dream. My mind is too tired to think of good planets...of worlds that are created for my craving to rest on clouds or probably fat people that can run for miles against the fit. But my head is still on the screen...Typing and wishing words were closer to my "academic thoughts".
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
If I had the hands of the sky,
the colors of Monet's secret insight,
a pigment of an Ocean,
unsailed,
by human kind,
what color would I paint you?
How man days can I Starve,
to stay alive,
If I had a canvas,
as large,
as white,
as the moon,
how would I describe you,
snow crunches,
beneath my feet,
I light a cigarette,
breath thick,
honey,
molasses,
dog fat,
If I were to build you,
could I use the tombstone of Beethoven,
grandmother's woolen blanket,
the missing piano key,
a harp string,
moth's wing,
winter's bulimia,
night's insomnia,
a dream's last breath,
novel's,
Last line,
Neruda's breath,
Shiva's golden temple,
a goddess' breast,
the highway's Texan accent,
a humming bird's,
silent flight,
the pollen of a sunflowers,
the ****** user's,
high,
Indian's leather,
a mother's palm,
sad song,
Michigan's final night,
If I were to kiss you,
how again,
would you taste,
too many nights,
have separated my memory.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
december is near.
blink your eyes,
december is here.
here come the platters piled high with
sins.
is this really "the most wonderful time of the year'?
god, it all
looks
so
good.
the whispers curl around my ears.
no. no. fat. calories. crunches. jumping jacks. calories. fat. weight.
the holidays aren't about family.
this is war.
this is about self-control.
this is about my honor.
on goes the lip gloss, the too-big dresses
so nobody notices how fat i am.
"have you lost weight?"
stop making fun of me.
"aren't you going to eat?"
i'm nauseous. lies
i already ate. lies
i'm eating later. lies
don't touch me.
don't hug me.
don't speak to me.
surrounded by sins
calories
fat
bait for their traps.
just one bite?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC