"gnashed" poems
"Many a physics graduate student has gnashed her teeth in frustration over the mathematics of general relativity. Perhaps she should try envisioning a flat, boundless desert, with rocks of various sizes scattered across its surface, whose mass creates dips of various depths in the sand. A sturdy canopy looms over that desert, stretched tightly over a skeleton of tent poles linked by bars, matching the rises and dips in the sand beneath it. The desert is all the matter and energy in the universe, while the canopy is the geometry of space-time. The poles and bars are the equations of general relativity, connecting the stuff of the universe with the shape of the universe. As Halpern writes: “Mass and energy warp space-time, telling it where and how to curve. The shape of space-time, in turn, governs how things move within it.”
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My mass and my energy are both warped, so the where's and the how's and the eyes of my curves are the poles and the bars of behind which I relentlessly cease to exist, only to seize what lies beyond the constraints of time and space, as eye wait for the bus to stop in the No Standing zone
The Bus Poet
Stop!
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
198
An awful Tempest mashed the air—
The clouds were gaunt, and few—
A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
The creatures chuckled on the Roofs—
And whistled in the air—
And shook their fists—
And gnashed their teeth—
And swung their frenzied hair.
The morning lit—the Birds arose—
The Monster’s faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast—
And peace—was Paradise!
3.2k
.
*He had ascending eyes
of sapphire,
the kind in which angels sloshed in their
royal chalices,
the kind of blue Poseidon gnashed
his teeth for.
Born in the 25th dying date,
Septembers’ autumn bleached scent flows along
his bloodstream.
A smile that belonged in the crooks of these sapphire seas,
a soul unholy as Adam
& Eve’s.
His love was not fierce enough
to contain this poet's heart
my pitiful phoenix can be ripped asunder
by the wrath of
a dandelion.
He couldn't swallow the sun
so silver fire rained
anytime it pleased.
We are the skylines
not gallows
and yet we hang ourselves upon the night skin
and collect
the stars as if they were
our alibis.
If you love me,
let me go?*
My silver eyes don't see you in color anymore.
.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
Surprise me,
kick me over,
roll me around until I'm nothing but an inanimate object;
struggling is hard when you're frozen.
Nameless and unrecognized, except for the stench of alcohol, tobacco, and oily skin against my own.
Strangled screams,
clenched jaw and bubblegum gnashed between teeth,
the flavor was gone.
This was the day I found out that I am a trash can.
Shhhhh, it'll be our little secret.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
each day lasts forever.but the weeks are forcibly torn out.crumpled into the void like unwanted notebook pages-the years are the most frightening-just to slide by them.folded over like the rolled edge of a dull pocketknife. imprecisely honed. imperfectly lived. [memoirs of a boy scout drop out]there's something suffering (in the way you do those things) stumbling into the musky, razor-blade winters of jack london's finest fantasies.like a ghost seen walking in circles around the perfect spaces in-between the empty moments of gentle speech.mumbling softly over the warm murmurs of crackling embers delicately pacing distance between themselves(so as not to burn so quickly.)the hot tangy slurs of blood dripping from downward facing fingertips.teeth gnashed together, translucent grey flint-wheel sparks springing from the shadows-flaring nostrils coupled with rapidly expanding lungs.breathing in the ferrous red-a single hammerfallpulsation. arms interacting with the bitter indifference of the cold that snaps open the veins throbbing wildly in clumsy hands-letting the animal spirits trickle out unrhythmically-into jackson ******* droplets.
onto the pristine snow.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
Today I straightened all of the hairs on my head
whether they needed it or not. I like being organized.
Ironing out the kinks in my leather jacket with a baseball bat.
I try to cut the blues from the spinning record,
flicked numbered matchsticks across vinyl to
set the fleshed room on fire,
don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire.
Being on top of my **** is like handmaking
beeswax candles, I twist & turn, carving wax
in the air—There is always more to do, I
always tried to cross t’s and
sort the junk mail from the paychecks,
accidentally dropping cigarettes into the piles of post.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched you
lick postage stamps for the outgoing flood.
The laundry gets done even though I’m
too tired to pull my key out of the door.
I am in control of my own destiny.
I smoke Coca Cola & drink cigarettes for breakfast
because I don’t roll out of bed on the right side
of any given day, and
yesterday I put my foot
through the television
because tap-dancing on the shards
of the wood-paneled tube from dad’s first marriage
sings gnashed-teeth harmonies
with the microwave’s low groan at 3AM—
I used to eat cold spaghetti in torn jeans and nothing else
while you flipped through channels on basic cable
to hear the collage painting the end of the world. You were
always an empty can that year, you saved
orange peels to fill with oil to burn—
your name whispers itself into the grease hissings and
I hear it over the skyline and I cannot seem to find a match
to strike to light the last crumpled smoke in my pack—
All I want to do is send you photographs with singed corners,
photographs of your letters, attempts to burn away
any sight of you, ways to cut&bind; the flint that ignites
the only bonfire in my eye.
And sometimes I wish I could just scream at you until
the flowers crawl up the brick walls of your apartment;
my kitchen smells concrete like celluloid ashes and
if I snap my fingers to break broken promises and
floss my teeth with violin strings I might not miss you
anymore.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Stars gleam -night/snakes run their races,
Rain always seems/to find our faces,
Drowning deep abyss/those dark and evil places,
Wanna' die, release/trapped time, a Beast,
....come end this stasis,
....come end this stasis,
*I wanna' die,
Transpose,
I wanna' die,
Cosmos!*
We have eyes/still won’t see it,
Hearing without hearing, ears won’t believe it,
Argo, course, pivot/never touch, feel, regret,
Hunger boils feel/pain, life, hurts, reveal;
*I wanna' die,
Transpose,
I wanna die,
Cosmos!*
I wanna' dine at the table of Kro-nos!
Grinded, gnashed, sliced, eaten/devoured as a Cretan,
Die, soul to fly/meet in the sky,
I wanna' die in the cosmos,
*I wanna die,
Transpose,
I wanna die,
Cosmos!*
Trapped mill machine/they eat, they gleam,
Meet for the feast/Almighty beast, Almighty Kronos!
*I wanna dine,
It a crime?
Swallowed by time,
In the cosmos,
I wanna die,
I wanna dine,*
I wanna dine cosmos/retch my body, I transpose,
I wanna dine at the table of Kro-nos!
*I wanna die,
Transpose,
I wanna die,
Cosmos!*
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
my bedroom carries the headiness of stale captivity. the teeth of a years old trap are gathering debris where they’ve gnashed on my leg. my loved ones come to relieve me of my suffering.
the gentle winds bring me dead leaves in layers of red, yellow, brown and the occasional purple. “look at how they’ve changed,” the winds say. “things can change for you, too.” i brush them away. indignant, the winds whip dust and pebbles that become bullets at the right speed, threatening tornadoes that will never come. i wait until their lungs tire.
the cleansing rains rinse the matted blood from my wound and refresh my hot, mangled skin. “doesn’t that feel great?” the rains say. “you can feel like this all the time if you put in a little effort.” i dry myself down. angered, the rains disease the trap with rust and drench me until my bones attempt to float away, threatening tsunamis that will never come. i wait until the water recedes.
the giving earth sprouts a flower in the corner of my bedroom. “life is still growing, waiting for you,” the earth says. “you just have to come to meet it.” it’s a beautiful reprieve for my senses, i almost go to pluck it. as i come to realize my motions, my heart drops to an unknown place away from my chest. i hesitate. furious, the earth wilts the flower until it blends in with the rest of my bedroom. it shakes the ground violently, deepening the pain of the metal in my flesh. it delivered on earthquakes but threatened no aftershocks.
the lively sun dries me of the failures of the wind and rain and earth. the sun says nothing. i make no effort to repay its warmth. it reciprocates that lack of effort.
i have exhausted the affections of the elements, and in their abandonment now rests a deep stillness that urges me to look around.
over time, i have accumulated the barest of pleasures — some unread books, some unplayed records, some small tokens of loves long gone — that mimic a home, but bring you no closer to what that is supposed to feel like.
the odor in here is disgusting. unsophisticated in my aching, i wish for a sweet-scented breeze, or a balmy rain, or a fragrant flower.
or maybe i will just order a scented candle.
Nov 11, 2022
Nov 11, 2022 at 3:03 PM UTC
Old T Rex stood on the mountain top
And watched the brontos stroll
Little did he know that further up
Moses was on a roll
The critter knew that one day soon
The tables would be turned
He hunched his back and gnashed his teeth
The tablets wont be spurned.
Both together made mankind fierce
and splashed the fear of hell
One did better with no rehearse
Casting an eerie spell.
The tablets were used
To keep temperatures down
Ten doses a sop and a lollipop
T Rex the centre of town.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
she was called forth
from the rain, sing-screaming through
the lonesome pines, scattering needles
like a ****** angel; stomping
the dust into mud.
festivals strung on her wrists, the
flags shouting louder through leaves
than even that hung-up sun could muster.
rocks rambled up her spine, feet
calloused from dancing, she shrugged,
suspended above the moss.
the fire was never so bright.
would the black streets in a
harsh, dead city be deeper or
stronger than this?, can the skyscrapers
cut open clouds with their teeth
like she gnashed through God's hair
and tangled the sound of her blood
with the river?
even her chin was a boulder;
her knees flat skipping stones.
she wore soft bark and orange.
(aspens on hillsides with sunsets,
roots blending with bones and vein
and skin)
her hair spread out as a tree underwater,
or braided tight into vines.
a cup in each hand,
a sword in her mouth,
a wand on her waist,
pentacles on every inch,
forever breathing with the skin
of the earth.
and when she had left:
the missions departed, coals are black
in the cold city, skies scraped and scabbing.
burnt with the deep of a flame-led
memory.
the shallow graves upturned and cried out
into the rain,
*where has the base of my stream
flown from, if not the sharp
scent of her skin?
what shadow have I carried if not
an absence tied under my feet to
only be free in the morning
with her hair in my mouth?
where does the river flow
from here?*
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Our land of opportunities had padded walls
A snaking labeled hall with numbered rooms
We walked in peace right through the door
But having entered, fought to the floor
Room one
Sit in the blood square
For five minutes
And don’t speak or stir
Her vision blurred from the palm pressing eye
Heavy because she had spit in mine
Sideways face in mildewed waste as legs and arms were trapped
Thrashing core meant bear hug wrap, job of five for three
Bites and banging bone on brick
Flesh in nails and teeth in kick
Gagging sputters mucous river
Choking, sobbing, cheek to dust
***** gurgle, stomach churned and arms made sore vibrations
Battle on, gnashed front bucks and saliva begged for hold
Gave up and gave in, counted and relaxed
But because of fatigue
Not because
She gave
A
****
Can you hear me in there
Slow down
Who am I
You?
Where are we
The oh-fucking-see
Center of calm in torrential tempest
Room two
Share my glare and ice your raccoon bruise
Dimly lit from lack of wit but process all the same
Careful frame to highlight spark of pain, making work from game
Criss cross apple sauce sitting in the rain
Room three
Her best attempt
Turn the time to line
She fumbled and forgot a lot but in the end was fine
Room four
Plan for pupil fish to return to learn
Apologize profusely and repair the damaging deeds
It was late so
I walked home
She slept in an office
And my skin healed eventually
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
Speak fire to me
From dawn until dusk your voice echoes
Your mellifluous words haunt me like a siren song
Put your hands on me
Level your eyes to mine
Your thumb traces my jaw line, sweeps across my lip
The match is struck
Give me your body
Pray at my altar
Teeth gnashed
Guttural moans
My soul scorching
And you all over me
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:35 PM UTC
*A trillion lights bid hasty reflection
The bowed following preordained paths to
cardboard suburbia , under jet fuel rain , gnashed
in misery , some oxycontin follower , worshippers of Herod , rock ***** payback in five dollar denominations
A trick , a spittle of ***** in a ladle drawing gold from a coat pocket
Like a child's first snow , the learners license , naked in city lake
Kings with chewed teeth , bottom feeders in search of a vein , convenient Christ for **** and Jane , peanut butter for crustless sandwiches and taxed brains
Anarchy dreams , Presidential schemes , Syrian children burnt beyond
recognition , American pregnant teens , what would Jesus do ?
He's left us to our own devices* ...
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC
Airports…baggage claims…hotel rooms
I bet they all look the same by now
The desolation of small towns tempering the temptation of big cities
Wherever you are, you are not always alone
Some nights you get lucky…and there she is
The thirty-second flavor
The wild ride for the night
The prize for a job well done
She will climb all over you like it’s recess in the schoolyard
Kiss your mouth with a fire that singes the scruff from your face
Scratch her nails down your back when you push deeper, harder, faster…
And you…You will tease her to the precipice over and over again
Through gritted teeth, you will groan her name…if you even know what it is
You will have each other for the night and in the morning exchange thank you’s and goodbyes
Meanwhile, I will take up smoking again
I will order one whiskey after another even though I don’t drink
I will wring ht glass dry for every last drop
Bloodshot eyes and whiskey breath, dragging myself home down familiar streets
To the apartment in the city where you are not
To the unmade bed where you don’t say my name through gnashed teeth
In the bedroom where there is no vindication
Some lucky ***** has you for a few hours
But it’s not me
Bartender, I’ll have another. And another. And another.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:28 PM UTC
solemn was the cratered gleam,
pointing through engorged blossoms
out in the front yard. the thing,
itself, was gnashed by teeth in
reddened cloak. a crown of
empty glow. slowly,
the sky percolated out, through
my thoughts and dreams; places
left over, broken glass strewn
in my head and gut. lone
hand stirring in the clean light.
hypnotic path, yet i stray.
so strange, so strange.
so, i
set meaning on wind.
yet, yielding no answer,
dark pinnacles hide you,
watching back over all of
this expanse.
my heart is no small cavern:
no amount of howling will
change its flows or ebbs,
hollow knocks, or nestings.
your fields are immense, oh
brighter light, and deform smooth,
in all fine transience, leaving
dusty trails in the corners
of the buried systems
of my mind.
and the wealth of the world was
no more than specks upon the mantle,
in our eyes. we sat above it all,
counting out time on
fingers and toes,
stone, and
shadow
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
The ravaging beasts of the folds of south
Once marred, Yaakov, the man out of them.
For his kinnor sang a thousand vibrant sonnets
And the muttering arachnids of the north
Once defied, Ingrid, the woman out of them.
For her visage was a thousand radiant sunsets
In the midst of the luscious green grasslands
Was their bleak prison of grey, still and stale
In that chasm, she was shrouded from the light
In that chasm, he was girdled taut by that light
Amidst their floundering souls, was an iron veil
‘Twas a bleak wall, seeking his absolution from them
I saw him ‘n her, in dreary and stale, weary and pale
But I felt their hands caressing me, the iron veil
Those ravaging beasts, brutishly, gnawed his fingers off him
In envy, those arachnids ravished her joy and youth from her.
The blood-red moon, wept rivers of lamentations, for him
In shame, the blue sun hid himself in light, far... away from her
Thirsting for his marrow, those beasts, foully, scourged him
In vain, those arachnids gnashed their sickening fangs over her
I stood there, as a frigid shoulder to rest on for them
In pain, I urged the skies, “Strike me down!” for them
As Ingrid searched for him, she held on to me
As Yaakov stumbled for her, he leaned on me
In silence, I heard their hearts pacifying the other
In shame, I saw their voice bleeding for the other
In sorrow, I saw their scars salving together
I saw the locks of her hair, yearning his kiss
I saw his weary spirits yearning her warmth
I saw their cinders yearning to become one.
Despite, me, the unfortunate accursed iron veil
I saw her palms drying Yaakov’s tears away
I saw his arms caressing Ingrid’s fears away
Despite, me, the unfortunate accursed iron veil
I saw the brightest light in their teary smile
I saw my prison, be the Eden for their love
The austere bricks in me have finally seen a crack
I see Yaakov’s Ingrid and Ingrid’s Yaakov beside me
Never had the air smelt sweeter in this grassy sea
I now see a waltz after four scores of… lamenting
I now see a solace from the pounding pulse in me
But for my absolution, I pray “Strike me down!”
Strike me down, O agents of the heavens above
Flood me down, O seas of this broken paradise.
Tear me asunder, O lamenting winds of the sky
Have you, all-righteous hosts gone to slumber?
Why do you hide yourself, the all-righteous sun,
When the filth rejoices, the paradise cries pain?
Ah, Daphne, do you see this unsettling… silence?
Despite my cries to unbind us from our torment?
Behind her wrinkled, pale, cold face was that radiant sun
Behind his tremoring strained voice was that sonnet sung
Unchain my heart and free us I implore you, righteous fires.
Unchain their love, even the distant stars heard their sorrow
Let there never be another harrowing and writhing adagio
Let there never be another Yaakov and Ingrid in torment
Let there never be arachnids, muttering in viscous vanity
Let there never be beasts, lusting their blood and marrow
Set me free, let me return to my eternal slumber in solace
Set us free, Strike me down for their love… my absolution
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 3:23 AM UTC
Take a long cold look into the earth
Know your next to enter there
A panic sweeps through your veins and tears
Leak down out of your eyes
Pain shoots through your nerves and your fibers cringe
What hope is there in this suffering
The darkness deep and weighed down
A cold wind sweeps your sweat away
Your shivers fight against a slow decay
A light so bright pierced through the veil
The size of a pinhole no more
The warm ray of hope made it all so clear
Though understanding was not the darkness
It tried to push and hide away the light
Though none could conceal its treasure
You reachd your hand out towards a future
One that will yield better
Your hand is stricken, gnashed and burned
But you did not turn away
Desperately you grasp to life
And feel warmth upon skin, decrepit and stained
It takes over your entire soul
The point of light spread and enveloped your broken body
New life has filled your lungs
Rise and stand on new found glory
Darkness shall not enter again
You raise your hands, now immaculate and fresh
You open your mouth and sing
The light fills inside your body
Joy overflows out of this spring
Into the earth you shall never be
Forever in the light with the One true King
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 11:02 PM UTC
soul mates
in mud pomade
each one half of the other
a headless body
and a bodiless head
two monsters
severed halves of a snake
the head with no heart
ravaged with criminal ambition
and she; the heart; a pulsing ache, headless
made him nauseous with her ceaseless churning
disjuncture of passed and future
a gnashed twig
shattering time
slamming doors in each other's faces
through a disaster of eternities
on a black ash stair case
they ate the light of the world
a death fascination
yet could not die
and all was night
blind oblong
a brailled egg
in a curse of dreams
shadows desperate for love
they never find
snake wedding
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
You have lived too long under my bed. I said this a year ago, but you only moved to my closet,
and before that, the kitchen cupboards were heavy with your dust. I tried scraping you from the forks, but failed and ate finger food for weeks until you moved to the garden. Now I am tired of this knot in my back, and I am telling you to leave.
My child was eating dirt today—no, not you, my other child, but I thought of you. She shoved fistfuls into her mouth, gnashed it in her teeth until I saw the muddy smile ink across her face.
How can one burst of horror live on in the mundane? You’re in the paint on the walls and the clouds puffing past. I swear by the God I used to know that you are in everything, that you are everything.
I think of when dirt was shoved into my own mouth, maybe into yours too. I think of the mob
where I trampled others, and soon was trampled by those behind me.
I think of these things, but I can’t go on. I love you, but you need to leave.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
I never thought I would be the one who was broken.
The one clinging to the last hope of something solid.
I never thought I would be the one seeing my family ripped apart.
Gnashed and clawed by the beasts of sin.
I never thought I would be this scared.
Having no honest clue of what I was supposed to do.
I never thought i would have to beg for help.
But still be ignored by a friend.
I never thought i would lose my love.
But hardship can make even the strongest bonds wear thin.
I never though I would lose my passion.
But mostly I never knew this pain,
could bring it all back.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
Quailing from the mounded earth
Dethroned and lashed from heaven's sight
A shadow strode where man had wept
His hollow husk engulfed the night
Howling deafness gnawed and chewed
Within his arms she'd come to rest
Calm agony besieged his bones
The flame of gasping eyes suppressed
Darkness drank his memories
Piercing loss cavorts in mind
All false reflections need be snuffed
To end their taunts he sought be blind
Tearful hands roared overhead
And all the stars were furiously hewn
His head flung back threw mouth agape
Gnashed his teeth and ate the moon
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
I dream of you often.
At the start, it was always me yelling. I’d run up to you, teary-eyed, (not for the first time) and asked if you knew how you’d hurt me. Your face would be blank, your lips slightly parted. I felt like a rabid dog, muzzled by the scraps left of my humanity, but ready to lunge off to administer rough justice. My teeth gnashed and chipped when caught by each other. I felt my hands twist into fists, my eyes the hollow barrels of a sawed-off shotgun.
Sometimes you’d come to me, haloed by the morning light in my bedroom. Sometimes you’d apologize, or just be there. Things would seem fine. The hint of tension in my chest was nearly imperceptible in the face of the the rapture I felt, the face of you. I’d trace your knuckles, staring down at the half moons of your nails, cut to the quick. I cannot remember your expression, but I remember your warm breath. I’d wake up and say I didn’t like it, as I try to drift off and dream again.
Lately it’s me chasing you, never quite close enough. I see you right there, right in front of me, looking just as you had when I left. But the truth?
You are one thousand suns away, in a corner of the universe darker than the centers of your eyes.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Piercing winds, fast and with malice
Whisk away, playfully, the revolutions,
The songs and smoky thoughts
Which I saw smoldering right in front of me,
I see them rising in the night
At the ceiling
In dull streetlight
Mere abstractions, soft and white,
But roar the horn
Of guilty pasts
To their image the smoke holds fast
What soured scorn and blackened mien
Reject my constant repentant whine
And I travail, until I sleep
Their jeers and anger
I choose to keep.
And worthy, still I lay in bed
To even look into a dome ahead
Finite, bleak, and hopeless that
I find only appropriate.
And so close,
I grasp its bars
And wince ghosts whip and slash
At my wrists which I hold out
And tell them “harder” ‘tween teeth gnashed.
The day light comes,
And illumes my worth
By my feet spelled out in the dirt
And just and fair, to dirt I pair
That’s why my eyes
Are fixed there
All I gaze on, vibrance to ashen waste
Ask the smoke
The he and she, I corrupted chaste.
So my neck can take nine tails
My head is bowed in penitence
Yet, there is no flogger
But my own guilt,
My crimes, like flowers,
From proper minds wilt.
I’ll keep these eyes downcast,
Where they belong
And move without progression
For I’ve done wrong
And with the ground I stay
To payback what debts that vanish
To pay them everyday.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC