"gnarls" poems
a
miraculous
blindness
willingly
self afflicted
turn
jaundiced
eyes
from the
corruption
of
sacred
vows
a
miraculous
transfiguration
renewed
evangelical
ardor
a
refreshed
public face
beheld and
adored
ripping
iron curtains
into tiny
pieces
obscuring
stains
on altars
of shame
they once
brought a boy
vexed with
lunacy
to the
Good Healer
“oh faithless
perverse
generation
how long
must I
suffer you?”
Jesus
cured
the boy.
Disciples
asked,
why they
failed
to cast the
demon
out?
veneration
of worldly
trappings
defiles my
body
find in
yourself
a faith
the size
of a
mustard
seed
and the
demons
will flee
from the
body long
wracked
with illness
Matthew 17 14-21
Gnarls Barkley
Whose Gonna Save My Soul Now
Oakland
4/25/14
jbm
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Sea stars, urchins and anemones
ride the tidal waters at Rialto Beach
swirling into shallow pools -
clad in shades of blue, emerald and violet.
Gnarls of ancient driftwood line the beach
up to the rainforest’s edge just beyond the rise.
Pulsing waves dash and roar against the sea stacks
where the Pacific adjoins the California shore.
Legions of seagulls circle above
piercing the misted air with their cries
and the tide, beckoned by the Sky Queen,
begins to ebb and regain the open sea.
As the sun sinks into the western sky –
the towers of Split Rock and Hole in the Wall
are silhouetted against the horizon
pasteled in gold, orange and burgundy hues.
Gray whales and dolphins breach the surface
before plunging into the sacred depths
where the ocean beats pulse on and on -
sounding resonant cadences
through timeless hallows of infinity.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 6:16 PM UTC
I want to knock out all your teeth
with airborne nuggets of wisdom.
I want your empty gums to bleed
with pain and hatred and progress.
I want you to cut your hair off,
collect the locks, and throw
them at the trees in the afternoon,
for sanity's sake,
and I want the clouds sunk
into your head to spell
out like an airshow,
"I am Real, Valid, and going
to die."
Sometimes sitting straight up
in bed has its purpose,
pulling the blanket to the floor
and humming all those songs
without words, it's like therapy,
like rest, like wood.
The Lord will find his face
formed in your gnarls,
and he will cry.
He will say he loved you
since the beginning, since
you pierced your nose,
and that it doesn't matter
that you look down more
often than ahead, and that
your sighs grow flowers
at your feet.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
I walk between life and death,
The hours when the days are like
Stakes to the nocturnal heart.
And I know a walk among tombstones
Is a like a fresh death when the earth
Is covered with scarlet and scenic
Flowers,
I can already write my death on
The slab as clearly as I see the onset
Of the dusk upon my sun.
And I know to be dead is but another
Interminable word,
Like the carnival rides of my childhood,
Lost in a crowd but thrillingly unknown.
Tonight the stars speak a hope
In a new year, and all the years disappear like
Geese to the North,
Like Gnarls of teeth locked in a mongrels
Cry behind enclosed yards.
I am ready to die,
But instead I will write death and
Write a verse to make one think
One knows the true beauty of life,
Like the insufferably brilliant
Deaths of heroes told in myth
And legend,
A dissolved illusion to the real illustration
Caught between worlds of perceptions.
I see death on a dance floor,
A psalm sung and written by me
As my soul whirls the words in spectral
Atoms and lost in the momentary
Eternity.
And I remember I'm a just a man
With Latin blood spitting
From the womb of my mother.
And I am on the same side as my heart,
The hourglass fades,
The brutal eyes of truth facing me,
Fierce and unredeeming,
I dance with death,
And there is nothing I can do now.
I have nothing to prove I was here,
Except the poem
And even the words will fade.
Except the song I wrote for death,
It plays over and over
And death dances eternal.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Hum. Hum. Hum. Hum.
Hum. Hum. Hum. Hum.
Notice the notion.
Hum. Hum. Hum. Hum.
Hum. Hum. Hum. Hum.
Faster.
Hum.. Hum.. Hum.. Hum..
Do you celebrate such occasions?
Linger into the presence of your
long lost friends and different
hidden enemies?
Hum.
What do you want?
Stay on focused.
Your attention is driving you crazy.
If only you’d close your eyes amidst
that notion..
hum! hum! hum!
It’s all in your head.
Hum.. hUm.. huM..
Carve your way back.
Your growing gnarls everywhere.
It’s grotesque but that’s alright.
hum!
You developed the early signs
of decay.. humMMmmMMmm
BREAK!
Inhale like a hero about to
unleash his full potential
against a formidable fiend!
Exhale! Like the last of
your power is beyond the
rites of your will!
REST. . .
Admire your heroes:
Bukowski finished beyond
comprehension.
Mercury came to ‘em all!
Nobody does
The DDT
like
Jake “The Snake” Roberts.
You’re not special.
You’re no different.
You’re not the protagonist.
It’s just a first person complex.
Your life is not a Salinger novel.
but
don’t die before your fears.
die suddenly.
die unexpectedly.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
When the hot sunlight meets the shadows of the night,
When the sea foam kisses and lingers on the sandy shore,
When the dry leaves lay with the sodden grass below,
I smile to myself, because it's how the world works.
When the darkest clouds throw down their rainy assault,
When the icy wind brings chills and steals hope,
When the last tree gnarls, and dies alone,
I smile to myself, because it's how the world works.
When the eyes of the masses are opened and enlightened,
When the thoughts that turn to words are turned to deeds,
When the deeds of one may benefit all,
I laugh to myself, because I've changed the world.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
last night with my breath heaving ice
I dreamed of a palace towering so high
magnificent porcelain floors,
each tap of heels a vertigo
of ringing melodies upon shores,
marble white gleaming under
golden streaming sun,
the softest hue of gentle cerulean
kissed like shadows in the empty halls
vivid, startling red carpets muffling
the entrance to every doorway,
hidden diamonds of spruce floorboards
from the mothers of those elegance gnarls
swinging near the front porch,
I dreamt of a beautiful palace
empty but for the pounding in my chest
lingering on hilltop of some forgotten coast
with waves pounding and sleeping at will
wild meadows and daisies sang in the wind
lavender and pines smiled mystically,
the sky was blue, such a clear beautiful blue
I dreamt of this place,
with rooms cluttered of deepest desires
treasures of love, gems of happiness
stairwells to ambition and libraries of knowledge
studios to create and kitchens to splurge
yet I grew a faint as the sun began to smother
the castle walls were blood orange and deep yellow
now I could see the tremble of my shadow
I woke up to a startling start,
and tears rolled down as the plastic stars
glowed on my ceiling, the salivating fragrance
of fresh baked bread ringing with clarity
I dreamt of palace where I could simply be
with my pleasures and splurges,
following heart's content to sing free
are all palaces really temporary?
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
Fields turned yellow like the sun
from the old rain
That felled like paint on a canvas
Red Kites hovered a dinner
In their grasp
Amongst the golden wash of life
Trails of steel from above left
lines of snow
Into the clear bluest sky
As the silence of nature bleated volumes
The earth felt a good day from a
mad mad world
The cool wind blew gently over to
a wave without a sea
As my eyes shone to the wonders
of earths senses before me and it felt good
Hills from a distance showed
a landscape
Built on years of time from a land
riddled in blood
In a yesteryear that we chose
to forget
Yet in the center of the field stood a lonely
old tree
Its life still strong from Gnarls of time etched in
pain for all to see and feel
New buds bore a life to prove a life to live
And this was a time to live
A time to grow
A time to give
To give love to this Earth
Our Earth
Our Mother Earth
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
The moon sways
Across the beaten sky,
And lonely it goes
The day has come by
And to show what it become
Light shafts upon the ground
Gently it glimmers
And my oh my the dark withers
With gnarls of curse
And hoots tearing its verse
Wonders of the younger
May have traveled to slumber
If cure the curious
Brimming of imagination
Yes they are reckless
Yet they capture the moment
Hidden wonders within thy flourish
Shall chance
Doubtless of others' chorus
When the moon retires
And the sun's pierce
Is taken to its knees
The dark will soon expire
But not in vain it will flee
Because the hours
Will skid across the
Icing sleek sky
Twittering and chirping
As blink of an eye
A powder of dust
The old will now
Rest in peace
As the youth's endless time
Starts to tick
Soon to rest, forever
In the dirt
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
tend to your rots
and tend to your buzzes
take care of your gnarls and seething hot curses
only a child can make such excuses
and even at that, children are not excused.
even the innocent burn in the fire.
take yourself further, take yourself higher
you may as well, man. see what you can do
before all the darkness swallows you, too.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Fields turned yellow like the sun from the old rain
that felled like paint on a canvas
Red Kytes hovered a dinner in their grasp
amongst the golden wash of life
Trails of steel from above left lines of snow
into the clear bluest sky
as the silence of nature bleated volumes
The earth on a good day from a mad mad world
The cool wind blew gently over to a wave without a sea
as my eyes shone to the wonders of earths senses before me
and it felt good
Hills from a distance showed a landscape
built on years of time from a land riddled in blood
in a yesteryear that we chose to forget
Yet in the centre of the field stood a lonely old tree
Its life still strong after Gnarls of time etched in
pain for all to see and feel
New buds bore a life to prove a life to live
And this was a time to live
a time to grow...a time to give
To give love to this earth
Our earth ....Our mothers earth
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
they still got their hooks in me though
i sure can tell you thAt
tried to fill myself with love today
but now look where i'm at
surrendering to the demons
Like every other day
with hooks and claws
and gnarls and gnaws
they fear my glow away
they rIp my love from chest
they shrEd apart my soul
they stamp out all my light
aNd Put me in my hOle
Smothering all my will
til tearS roll down my face
now i must release my demon
and leave this cold dark place
they arE the ebb
and i am the flow
the tug of war goeS on
stretching my Soul
til darknEss takes hold
and my Demon unleashes their song
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Many miles to walk,
In some shoes that just
Don’t fit.
Clouds above and in head,
Blind for all the doubt.
Escaping the pursing shadow,
The darkness we fear
That lives within.
Do I enjoy the flagellation,
Is that why I keep this whip wet?
I've grown addicted to the nightmare,
At home in the din.
The dream dies, in those desperate eyes,
Poured from the lies within.
When the ice berg hit,
I felt relief,
For this titanic,
That you all saw,
Has been shown to be
Just a piece of tin.
As I rust in the depths,
Nurturing my pain,
A diligent nurse,
I take comfort in this urchin bed Iv made.
Now, I know true darkness.
Lies swim in those eyes,
Silver flecks in a rolling ocean.
I got depths,
And there are sharks within.
You see the sun rays reflection,
But forget this mirror is just the knife's tip.
This oceans got more yin than yang.
Theres a certain satisfaction in self loathing,
See I have always wanted to be the best,
But too afraid to take the plunge,
I’ll settle for the worst.
At least when this wildfires burnt out,
There will be certainty at last.
All the bad and wrongs wrung out,
You don’t get no phoenix,
Without the price of destruction and ash.
The thing about rock bottom,
Is that it gives you something to push,
A solid base from which to build,
Now that I know the ends of my worth.
The jokes on you though,
He who types,
See perfection exists only in its totality.
A tree may glow, but its got knobs and gnarls.
The sun may shine, but it also burns.
We forget that sun kiss can ****
So strive not to be the most good,
Or perfect, or unblemished.
For the destination doesn’t exist,
And the route, rough and wrought with misery,
Loops round and around yourself.
To avoid strangulation,
Let go.
Fall into uncertainty gladly,
And you will find wings that you didn't know.
And thats more than enough,
You don’t need no halo.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 3:55 AM UTC
Iron shackles to broken wrists,
cold, wet stone:
chains clank in the night.
Fire flickers on sconces
lining corridor walls.
Footsteps echo
down the hall;
guards speak of
a new prisoner's arrival--
Someone important, wise:
confusion abounds at
this stranger's fate.
What time shall he arrive this eve?
Where will he be taken?
This place was not built for
political prisoners.
The rest of us forgotten:
the small, shared meal lost;
hunger gnarls within.
Moans -- loved food is wasted.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
NOCTURNAL
One bright sheet of moonlight
and a flutter of gold leaves,
a picture opened from darkness,
a torque tree trunk, gnarls of
its sinister face frowning --
a somber vision with brief
streaks seeking the eye of
the wanderer.
In this evening movement
of air, leaves are touched
by a starlit memory.
The woodpecker knocks,
playing his registry of notes,
monotonous yet full of mystery.
Night is a wild creature, filled
with countless visions, sky
turning with prophesy.
In the small hours the tree,
its leaves and branches
ghostlike, as vision fades
around it.
Shadows whisper words
among the nebulae :
the past is not finished
but speaks of other worlds
veiled in illusion. Verticality
calls to spirit-- Oh, to be given
the gift of flight if only in a dream !
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 3:04 AM UTC
Iron shackles bind wrists
to a cold, wet stone wall.
Moans echo down the hall
while chains clank in the night.
Fire flickers on the sconces
lining the corridor walls.
Footsteps draw near.
Someone is walking down the
hallway. The guards speak
of a new prisoner's arrival.
What time shall he arrive?
Where will he be kept?
Someone important--
that's what one said.
Confusion abounds at
this stranger's fate.
This place was built not for
political prisoners to be taken to.
The rest of us forgotten,
the small meal is lost.
Hunger gnarls within:
no food will come this eve.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Wires and knots and frays and ends
Jungled together in a mess that forfends
Any attempt at stability or control,
Giving way to a nest onlookers find droll.
Yet it all tells a story, one far too complex
To fully embrace its meanings and effects
On the state of my soul, my body, my mind,
And every piece of art my heart writes in kind.
Maybe it isn't worth the effort to untangle;
The gnarls buried deep serve little but to mangle
Any comb or brush that dares it's depths for even
A moment, an instant, but all is to be forgiven.
For the stress displayed upon my head
Bothers each and ev'ry of us within our bed
Jan 19, 2022
Jan 19, 2022 at 5:14 PM UTC