"gashing" poems
How could I have been so close
Yet so far away
The gap in the distance is more intense than I'd actually like to say
It feels like almost yesterday, where the smiles or frowns that came around
Never settling in the crest we call a "face"
It wasn't as fake as it was now
The warmth of your smile turned the mood around
Even if it was disappointing I couldn't help but try a bit harder for the sake of being friends
Cause that's what they do, staying true,
yes true
Not saying I've caught them in a lie
It just feels a little blue, on the other side
I wish I could hold your hand, just to adore
This, space that we once had
It's not the same years later and I know things have changed
Again this isn't a plead for help
Just my old thoughts into an expression
Takes it like the old way of written out confessions
If I had to be convicted Id be in for a long sentence
Like the, I broke a promise and left without saying a word,
Sad how we make it seem like it was the another's fault that we're this way...
Though in the end, it was selfish actions... selfish actions...selfish actions...and self-indulgence
That pushed the gap and broke the space apart
Id like to say sorry as a start in the right way
Though I don't think that would mend the nasty tear that's been every slowly gashing
We've been on the rocks thrashing about in a glass cup smashing with fruit juice and *****
I remember the sweet cheers of that kiss and the hard rocks on the bed
I understand it, I do
I lived in the misery of your happiness that shined through
I wanted to use your opening and vent without considering what your feelings meant
That this was a special event, and I wasn't just getting experience but giving it too
Where sweet words never left the heart
Where promises were meant to last
I formally apologize,
I can't take it away for what has happened
But I'll keep moving forward regardless of forgiveness
I don't expect to walk back into a life that I created so many problems for
And I understand completely if these words cannot pierce through like a sword
It's no point that way
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 10:07 PM UTC
Into the sunlight burning my pale tainted skin I fall;
Out from the darkness I lived where I walk before I crawl
I'm a being no man can describe yet I am marked as a horror;
I meant no harm but this is how I live a cycle causing' terror
Understanding my nature is like a puzzle picture a piece is always missing;
Dig deeper and you will find the answers right before your neck, blood will start gashing
Never will I myself will ever understand why am I brought to this world and for what purpose?;
For the balance perhaps? That we all must accept that light and darkness never coexist and that what truth has exposed...
Sacrifice what a noble suffering one can offer for love and devotion;
What I do now, will it set the order for safety and to create a new world in motion?
I doubt one can even notice or even give credit to my self righteous suicide;
I'm a fool to even care so much that I am ready to give my life for violence to subside...
Maybe I am just tired living in the shadows creeping in the night to feed;
I envy men for their freedom that I even often ask what's the difference they also live in greed
Why must I care so much for their safety?I am living the life I am offered so are they;
But why am I feared the most for their violence is worst yet I am the only one known as a monster...
Too late to ponder more, I made my choice so long and goodbye I bid farewell;
It is a good day to die funny it's the first time I see the sunlight and touched my skin burning them well;
Blood is boiling like acid tearing my bones melting as I feel pain as I scream;
Freedom it is this the end of me to the earth I return as ashes filling an urn to the brim.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
Consciousness,
mindfulness,
philosophical enlightenment -
Live for the **** of it.
Camus was right to breathe in spite of the tide of crushing emptiness.
The boulder gets heavy,
the bones grow weary,
the mountain is steep and we are steeped in irony.
For life can be deadly and death's rows of gravestones mark homes for freed slaves,
their crossed arms hiding scars
left by the teeth of nihilistic grief beatings and
surgery scalpels set to carve by
frequent false
alarms.
Sisyphus took but one break,
to hear the chains rattled from the gates,
hellish obsidian, vermilion flames licking lumps of silica grains
mixed with ash and a black tar splash.
And Orpheus sighed on the lyre and brought tears to the eyes of the most vile,
while Sisyphus
paused -
not long,
but a lifetime for those still free to subside
to dust, from blood and guts,
when their time arrives.
The trials of life,
the striving rites and lavish gifts of light to defy
the black and empty dusk still fail.
Eurydice grows pale as Orpheus turns to see her cheeks
losing every trace of peach hue,
eyes emptying,
lungs leaking their
last gale.
Struggling again, Sisyphus is sent
tumbling down the face of the great mountain,
grabbing gravel and sand and gashing gaps in his hard leather hands.
Bleeding ash,
not blood,
hot red mud dripping from the thick lacerations,
mixing with the sickening avalanche of wasted effort and waylaid plans.
Repeating the climb up the steep peak,
bones creaking like a clock's gears,
rattling off the seconds,
minutes,
hours,
years
until the watch stops its
panicked hands.
Until then we will toil unswayed
as we wear stones to clay,
carving winding paths in spirals up the mountain's waist.
No calm for those with breath,
no rest for beating hearts.
We must live in spite of life,
and then sink silent
to the earth.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
i shed pounds
of hair
when i shave
my
back,
chest,
neck,
shoulders,
abs,
and below.
It falls lightly as the electric blades become hot on my body
gashing into my un-satisified self.
i am a hairy ****
i am a hairy ******* man.
i am a hairy man.
i am a man.
but here i am
shaving everything off
so i can be
the boy
of your dreams,
the boy of your dreams.
And now, my body burns
but I cannot bear it; looking like a bear.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
Candles once burnt in the night
But a cold wind took their light
I was cast down into damnation
With no hope of finding salvation
No one listened to be heard
A voice speaking without a word
Who could rescue a fallen soul
That could find no place to go
A gothic ghost screaming out
Like some demented Banshees shout
Crawling through the filth of disgrace
Ice cold tears falling on my face
An endless night without stories to tell
Countless doors leading to Hell
Nightmares daring to be my end
Gashing wounds try to offend
I fight back and yell "no more"
Bandage up this festering sore
Stop cutting my soul with this knife
Time to fight in the war of life
Copyright Chris Smith 2013
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
when you
so dear to me
do hurt me
a pinpoint *****
is a razor’s slashing edge
make gashing wounds
and bleeding drains me
bound scars to testify
to the hurt
the doer do magnify
i flee my brittle tiny shell
and don the mask of mirth
but fleeing never find
a chambered nautilus
which i would exchange for mine
a twig is bent
a leaf is fallen
a grain of sand is lost
a page is torn
teardrop falls
a lost one calls
when trust has grown
when choice is blind
when reason cannot reason
a little twist
a careless wink
an unintended turnabout
eats up a painful way
to the heart that loves.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
my heart with a gashing hole from a mythical screwdriver
rising
out of my problem filled mind, confused and mixed up brain
escaping
from my diminishing soul
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 10:22 AM UTC
I am sure, it might be midnight somewhere
Sun long gone to where I'll never know
Moons sing songs while rivers flow
Gashing and sifting between rocks
Crashing with utter silence
Everything breaks apart
Leaving scars in the heart
That can only be healed by being apart
We are together only at the start
But in the end the storm is going to tear us apart
Soon the storm will pass and I will love again
Looking toward the horizon
I took a deep, long breath
And dove into the water
Sinking slowly, deep into the blue
Elephant, which means the dream was about to come true
And then something amazing happened
Something I could have never imagined.
Pains me to think of the money I will never see.
Awash in the blue, I am losing my mind
Mind of a squirrel going nuts
Scampered down the street, needing more food
But he couldn't find any so he went home and got high
Lost his thoughts and began to cry.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
There are hooks in you
I am only fickle finned
I cannot swim fast enough
To **** my mouth onto yours
Because-
There are games in you
A hunting sport
A terror red ravaging game
You relish it as the juices drip down your chin
There are hooks in you
And I am only fickle finned
Pulling me into you
Teeth and claws sharper, gashing deeper
-Secret pleasure in the raw raw flesh
There are rumours shrouding you
Bullet words hurtling through my skull
Plumetting through leaves, through everything I know
There are hooks in you
And I am only feather winged
I cannot float fast enough
To embed your bullet in my chest
Because-
This is a game to you
A hunting sport
A biting, sinking, blood filled game
There are hooks in you
And all this hunting, swelling, biting
All this heaving, sweating, fighting
All this terror, flying, swimming
All this hooking, shooting, chasing
Does me no good,
For I am fickle finned
I am feather winged
And this is a game
To you.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 4:17 AM UTC
So you are gone, I realized this tonight
At the thousandth night of our separation,
Stars glittering, Moon playing hide & seek
Same like the night you and I talked last,
How I hated change and
How I found it at every step I took, is inexplicable.
The promises were not plenty to stay.
Oaths were mere other words said in frenzy
Washed in the first rain of the season.
All those texts I wrote, stanzas I composed
Were not enough to win you.
I ask you; was I that bad?
I remember me; so different than now
Awake all night waiting for your call
to start talks having no purport,
To listen your gasps, kisses and breathe and yawn
Every moment felt like you were breathing unto me
Traversing miles, splashing on face,
Warm in winters, cool in summer nights,
your breath reached;
Inhaling all, I stored it inside
Like a souvenir; to remind me how close we were once.
You said,
you “are weak in catching the hidden meanings
In my poems”. How ignorant I was to not listen
But if you were around now,
I'd explain those connotative lines
full with request and pleas,
I had typed in midnight emotions
tears gashing;
Only had simple meaning;
I long and yearn to live with you,
around you, beside you
every second.
If I’d known substitutes of hundred diverse
emotions spinning,
I'd have used it
to avoid your confusion.
But I didn’t find. My rotten luck!
Sometimes, I ponder
If you're there to see me awake all night for words
that can match you; your radiant beauty, then all
would have been different.
But you're not there to witness the devotion.
To my ill-fate, words carry only pictures
Reading depends on the reader,
And you read it all different than I intended,
Maybe, it’s the fault of my poetry
broken and stained in failure
Never achieved the power to conquer you forever.
Every word I wrote haunt me onwards
See, the sorrow I'm indulged in,
When you have forgotten my existence,
and the love we shared.
Still, after all these years
I fighting with change
Waken all night
weary, tired, sleepy; Write you in poems!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Shaman who is keeping the flame.
Dancing like it's his last day.
Holding many secrets, knowing many fates.
Brown stubby knotted fingers do the pointing.
The young brown pups do the fetching.
Guiding the meek, chanting history.
He taught my family how to preserve mother.
Sometimes for sport, sometimes for balance.
Insisted we did this favour; not as ritual, but as rite.
We wait until the moon is filled of Mars.
We sing our people's song.
Sometimes a harmony, sometimes a challenge.
To do the shamans work; maybe *****
We roam in threes, sometimes fours.
Our sanctified goal to slay mother's cousin.
Tall ones, brown like us, bones gnarly from skull.
We huff, and puff; the winter cold.
Lungs tired after kissing the chilly breeze.
The tundra lit up with a crimson sheen.
Fatiguing the march, yet we fly.
Hunters we hunt, fast with four legs.
We single a herd, resting their heads.
We focus the small ones, biting and gashing.
They fell like birch trees, painting the powder.
Outnumbering us, sport turns to anxiety.
We bite, gnaw, **** and claw.
They fall hard to the Earth.
We don't feast, we have a mission.
Looting the bones, we keep them in submission.
Thinning them out; is our fed intuition.
Brothers grow tired, the prey devastated.
Mars reflects to us, as if saying mother is pleased.
The young brown pups do the fetching.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
**** MY FIST COPYRIGHT 2011 DAVID EHRGOTT
Lucy Lucy What have you done
******* a kid
well it ain't no fun
Bashing and gashing
covering him
My right forearm hurts like sin
Lucy Lucy Kiss me kiss
Match the left one by doing this
Just
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
Yeah
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
Lucy Lucy ******* me blue
Here is all that she did do
Slapped me around; Put me through walls
That ************* Lucille Ball
So
**** my Fist
Yeah
**** My Fist
just
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
**** my Fist
**** My Fist
Tuesday Weld was not a Ball
She frigged herself and that was all
But Lucy had a *** playpen
For children around the age of ten
so
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
Surviving this is not a bliss
and my arm, it hurts like ****
I raise it up to tell the world
That Lucille Ball was my first girl that
****** MY FIST YEAH SHE
****** MY FIST
****** MY FIST YEAH SHE
****** MY FIST
SO
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
JUST **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
SAID **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
JUST **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
SAID **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
Little boys of only ten
Should not be used like that again
But you know Hollywood and them
I'll save the world and tell them just to
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
Lucy did it why don't you just
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
Hollywood Hollywood just kiss this
I've really had enough of your **** so
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST...
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
my fiery and forgiving god of mischievous delight and pranks
who holds me in his loving embrace to shield me from harm
guide me and protect me from the stabbing swords that have fell on me cutting, slicing and gashing into me to cry in anguish and pain
love me and be tender to me like a gentle, caring lover that will never betray me, pray to you my ever loving handsome god, loki, may the valkyries bless me as well and guard me as well as loki's children keep me from danger
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC
There is an inch of sleight in this house – this cold chair,
a burst of cologne clogging a 20 minute stride. The stringent
air tonight blusters deeper than gashing sheens.
The little dryad of dew outside and the cadenza of frogs
after lambaste of rain. Whenever you sing, your voice
communes an immense pain, something unconscious of its
gravity, something that levitates back to momentary ululations
swelling in the grime of times and heady chances. A long stretch
of a day submerged in silence resembling a howl underwater.
There will be many sorrows and they will take form of doves,
assume the skin of the populace. They will come in a volume of
names pressing the linoleumed musk the way the body turns
maneuvering over the saltine, the mattress, juxtaposed to a lover,
a brusque aroma of coffee brushing away the calm demeanor
of the morning, dragging along the weight of its lassitude
towards the sprays of fern opening a dense ornate of forget,
you, in all places that pulse without recall – an obtuse
fish feeling its life in a surge of blue, overtime, finally knowing
what it means to sing and drone only words.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Fear of failure had me slogging
Constructing these walls of limits around me
And I’ve been confined in this prison for decades now
Consumed by my own self-made leviathan
Seeking for perfection, which smells not in this world
Procrastination, had me shackled on the same level
Letting time passing by, wasted
Assuming what the world may assume if may I fall
I may sleep in disgrace with fear,
Walking on the prickly path, away from your gashing eyes
I may drown in your scornful laughter, a stagnant pond
Of discourage for men
Whilst ageing not to be young no more
We grow naive with poor minds, weary souls
Thus age caries no wisdom nor oomph
To rectify errs of the past, though far ahead still glows
The lit of hope, the spirit to rise from the dust
To release my soul free and disrobe the coat of fear
To stand tall and soar above the horizon and reach the stars in the sky
Though I may never catch the time I let to flew away
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:05 AM UTC
i had my feet on theair and was gashing in the new
house of first violence
my hands were arranged in a patient painful shape
that laughed with speed
he's a dank specter of courage lilting in this valley
falling perspicuously quiet
of motion deadened, an apathetic figure stiffly
la petite mort
well spill sleeping wind on the face of night
and go into your head
a delicious sprawling valley, at the beckoning
of my fists
i made it for you, this dream, so dream it
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 2:10 PM UTC
A deep gashing hole
My heart keeps on breaking
I think I’m insane
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
I saw you just taking out the trash, but I didn’t want to seem like a creep, so I let things skip a beat and now I’m thinking of your smile and your face but I’m at windows distance and I figure that you want some space or you’d be hitting me up and right now so I stand between the
Crater filled lakes of ash and ****
scoured landscapes sickened by flame.
Fire and breath of choking ash distended disarray
Lava lakes and crater making mash
the splintering soul coming through, gashing and weighing in on itself.
it knows little of the chopped trees gutted for domicile.
The fresh roots poke from soil
and I sit and think about how I can dig holes around myself and with that somehow take something away,
like a tree or a treasonous wish.
Pitfalls and kush. Smoking the herb and with wishes of last dishes
Misguided missels firing,
their exhaust coughing plumes,
and strands of future tears,
and beams of heat pierce the sky,
molding oxygen to any form fit.
Distraught I revisit the past.
The crashing pain and aftermath,
the raking claws, the jaws and teeth, seeping from the soil.
Coiled snakes flicking tounges
and young souls.
old and putrid piles of bones,
left alone to shine bright,
and tranluscent as night falls, my mind is old and misguided.
I’ll cry out in distress I’ll never find the proper time to relax
I now know I’m worth nothing
I’m suckin in air taking up gas
I’m stressed but I’ll find
That throwing refuse onto a pile
Of burning rubber. the cooling bubbles
The trying times of today.
Getting out of slumber,
waking up to stay alive,
gritting teeth I hate myself
I am the pain and suffering, and that is why the suffering exists only in myself. without a body such as my own, perhaps suffering could cease.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
i can hear a fraternization
of doors that loutishly slam repeatedly:
just another instance leaping out of reason
and lunging in on impulse;
wrapped in the heat of leaving, all your words
scatter on the floor like white, mangled asphodels.
one hairbreadth heave and a cutting glance
at space and it seemed to have bled carnations
pried open, dissected, obscured, mutilated by birds.
bags drop like H-bomb. displaced equanimity somewhere
between blame and accurate silence:
in an instant i believed that I am that sudden word
of reprisal.
there’s no getting even, still halves are separately
wholes to themselves, intact, further apart,
breathing and gashing the air.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
after all those years
chasing people and hopeless dreams
falling in love with boys
who weren't meant to be
I've convinced myself
things aren't always what they seem
I see six, you see nine
i see black, you see white
I've built walls high above the ground
And I've let them turn it down
and i kept chasing and chasing
hoping they'd finally face me
embrace me and my flaws
but no..
they drew their claws
slashing and gashing.
with gnashing jaws
i shut myself away
away from monsters
who embody my sanity
and I convinced myself
maybe i dont need people.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
Darkness suffocates me
I sence my death
My strength evaporates into nothing
I will not exist as I am
My eyes have ceased their vision
My heart offeres no beat
My screams have no voice
Just silent echos across the street
Angry words attack me, tearing my mind
Family discarded, abandoned and void
Torment has outlived my joy
It gnaws through my bones
Gashing wounds seeping with pain
No embrace ever came
My blackness is hidden
No-one can draw me out
Breathe freely this destruction of self
To gain the bitter end
Twigzy 2013
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
*Cool metal
Invitingly
Teasingly
********* my cheek
Serrated edge
Gleaming
Grinning
Eager for an ugly scar
Pointed tip
Gliding
Slicing
Gashing open chambers of thought
Tender flesh
Cleaved
Carved
Away goes all that once was
Warm memoirs
Digging
Cutting
Out all the used-to-bes*
Lips
Curling
Screaming
......
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
The symphony of the night... Can you hear it?
Come dear lets waltz with the rhythm as your heart beats...
Face to face we dance round and round,
Eye to eye we stare and silence became a sound...
I can feel it... The pounding on your chest;
As you breathe slowly enjoying this moment...
Perhaps it's your last, no one will ever know,
What's behind this mask, just a bit more I will show...
(Palpitate!Yes let your blood rush through your veins!)
I promise your warm blood will not be in vain!
I can't restrain myself! Shall I rip her throat now?!
Let the gashing begin breaking the vow!
The music is at its intense part,
The notes it rise and fall like the beat of your heart,
Matching the moment as it come to an end!
I apologize dear for in my hands you must suffer hell...
Sorry love for you must quench my thirst!
No point in screaming! And please wipe off your tears!
It turns out our love to be a ****** romance.
It all ends with a bite, halting our last dance...
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
The cool, clear babbling brook of crystal water fed by childhood’s innocence easily reflected the soft light of simple joys
Neon lights
Blasting sound bites
Are you pretty enough
Lose weight now
Shimmering clothes
These toxic wastes of existential effluents
Entered my stream of consciousness
Until the channels into my self-worth thickened with mud and fed the reeking skunk’s bath of self-loathing
Racing thoughts
Prevent sentences from forming
Instead I chew
On my cheek
Until it bleeds
The metallic taste lingering on my tongue a refreshingly devastating reminder of my continued humanity
Each stumbfumbling of words causes my pelvic floor to sink
I have no support
I’m a mess
I’m a puddle
Where there’s a bright yellow sign reading, “Caution, Floor Wet”
There’s me
There’s the puddle
There’s the mess
You approach my soul
You ignore the sign
Your kindness mops up the puddle
Your respect cauterizes the gashing cut of self hatred
Where there was once a puddle, there’s an egg
There’s life
The sharp jowls of your fierce devotion act as ****** to my self esteem
Holding it up through the turbulence of biting thoughts
Before the everythingphobic
Now the noneedforanyphobics
Your hand embraces my face as the softness of your lips sinks sweetly into my forehead
A weight drops
What falls away are the snake skins tattooed in scars unveiling the porcelain glow of new beginnings.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
there is a small fire,
a flickering light,
akin to a firefly lost
in the cold mists of night,
shining bright where
my joy should be.
there is a deep well,
a profound darkness,
akin to a cavern flooded
with frigid dark waves
echoing eternally
to the sound of loneliness.
there is a lackluster wreckage,
a broken trireme,
akin to a kingly one
that sailed out of Ithaca,
bleeding memories through
a gashing wound.
there is a rhyme,
a shattered syllable,
akin to a muffled shout
that reverberated throughout
those splintered blinks
of a forlorn childhood...
Sep 24, 2024
Sep 24, 2024 at 4:28 AM UTC