Greg, 3 november 2012
Crossed under everything that will never know
Who is the undertow for whom nothing is sewn
Dreams are only for the dreamer as fruit is for the tree
And a sharing is the loneliness glorified
As is all
Who are you my love
And why do you ever look at me
Nothing is seen anymore
And its black
Like stars
Stars that are made of neon brew
And shoes landing hard on the ground
Built by who?
And now confusion sets in on circus triumph and rambling unpoetic that twists and manifests as thought crimes against the will of the crippled as trees screaming for life and birds running scared against the bleeding orange sky highway calling and lingered unbridled joy on the backs of motorcycles screaming into the silent libraries of yesterday’s dreams written by me for you and disrespect is your claim to fame whoever is made to believe in love is seduced by the weight of your light heart and nothing can come back any sooner than a system made unpredicated by joy nonsensical and depressed like the shadows of past and no one looks and time continues on for the infinity of nothingness to drip by and by through golden shadows and unpressed succumbrence to the willows of tears that weep through drums and chords and chimes and screams into the starry night releasing the ashes of you into the wind from which you came baby scream scream SCREAM!!! And not a fuckin soul will hear you I swear no one to care and you’ll slit your wrists just to make a head turn and they will only say you should have learned I told you so go die as you are not as I would be go to hell and burn
A swift slip from the darkest abyss comes racing
Through shadows of indomitable bliss and spirit that is
Resting inside the webs of time and willows of rhyme
Dancing miraculous as the yellow turned orange
And lost
Lost
Lost
For there is nowhere to be there is love and a life to throw to the wind
On heroin induced craziness for blood against the wind whispering
Look at this and laugh like the joker’s friend
You are the waste of momentum and I am the same
Projecting like the waking flood of Noah’s arch
Nothing can be done and the past fades into sorrow
For if the needle drips my blood it drips yours too
And joy plastered on a frown by way of money
When all there is to find is love
All there is to find is love
Love
Love
Love
But no one looks at the sharp turn and you see
The weeping song of the trees and the people
And the strangers stop and stare to see me on the ground
And I laugh because it sets me free
From the need to be free
An actor in their play
For the only place that purple can turn slightly less pink and the fading memories resurge again
And I’m back in the place of the dark alley
The wild connections to the midnight sun
The floating happiness running by and the children dancing on the rooftops
Of thoughts that they are running by and by and by and by
Through their fucking drugs run mother fucker and you’ll find nothing
There’s no one to be and nowhere to go
Water in the midst of desert plants crying out loud to the sky for a passing moment of noted hysteria I love you I love you I love you
Cracked
By light formulated against the star struck nothingness of tomorrow
Who can see the subject of nothingness intellectualized
And made into Indian raga
And sadistic egotism erupting into the pale settlement of color ratcheted against the sun struck meadow
Where are you looking for the sun
And you find nothing more
But look look look look look look until you see nothing more either
For your eyes are burned through and through by reflections from cell phone screens
And just when you think you’re done the torture continues
And validation comes back again and again
With a simple solution that is dealt the demonic literalism of prose and sex
And no one looks any closer for we are dying
So slow
And you will read this and think nothing more than your thoughts
For the raindrop poet and the sea struck siren
Wail only for the woes of their heart and no one can see them anymore
For the rest are dead to them
And they are the thoughts of uninhibited fear
Life is their flocked pursuit that is analyzed into oblivion
Read this and find nothing
The paradigm is false
This sentence is false
You are me and we are not
Peace love and bliss to you
The oxymoron of language
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 2 november 2012
I have vented my feelings so many times; exaustion is my middle name
Now, I am no longer ready to say a word.
To continue on the Windmill of your game
Now wanting, waiting, no expecting; just knowing
what you will always do next
It has gotten so very repitisious;
Almost like a mime, annoying
You sat yourself up quite awhile ago; without even knowing
There were so many signs
As if you were driving down the Santa Monica freeway
You chose to ignore them all, going 'round yourself time after time
Even tho', times are rough I feel fine
Guess, it has just gotten to the point where I am not denying me anymore
The windmill keeps on moving in my direction,making me feel like sooner or later
This will come to an end
But let us be friends til it is over; let it fizzle out like a sparkle on the 4th of July
Gert Strydom, 2 november 2012
Slow they do swim
in the surging swell avoiding rocks,
slow they do swim;
maybe a little he or him,
a small girl with shining locks,
conceived in happy wedlock,
slow they do swim.
Gert Strydom, 2 november 2012
In the moonlight
she appears with a big smile,
in the moonlight
she made my whole body shake,
when suddenly I was afraid of the dark night,
when I heard her terrible and ghastly laughter
in the moonlight.
Gert Strydom, 2 november 2012
When Icarus did fall
his wings were scorched,
when Icarus did fall
a bolt of lightning did strike him
in the sea near to a island,
to help him there were nobody
when Icarus did fall
louis gander, 1 november 2012
My mama was a loving spouse who did her very best
to keep my father happy and she never did protest -
to what my father said and did to add to her abuse -
and all the things I saw him do. There wasn't an excuse.
My father was a spiteful man who argued quite a lot
and it had hurt my mama so that she became distraught..
I pulled weeds from her garden and I chopped a lot of wood
that heated up our cooking stove. I helped her all I could.
As we prepared for Christmas Day and all that was in store,
enjoyed, I did, those special times with mama even more.
Yes, more than any other month could ever even boast,
December was that special time that we enjoyed the most.
One cold December morning came when father went to find,
a full and perfect Norway Spruce. (I tagged along behind).
The woods were vast. There must have been a million evergreen
which held a billion snowflakes out in sparkling winter scene.
Reflective sunlight shimmered bright which made my eyelids squint
so I looked down and found that all my footsteps made a print -
in snow so fun to walk through as it crushed beneath my feet -
(although at times the drifts caused me to detour or retreat).
That made me pause and catch a glimpse of smoke from fireplace
meandering above our house so wanting to embrace -
a family fraught with nervous fears and silent times 'to boot' -
as father, with his ego big, had muffled mama mute.
But fragrance from the many pine had found my little nose -
and tiny snowflakes glistened while they settled on our clothes -
reminding me that all is well despite my parents quarrels
and I could choose a better life with character and morals -
to live a life, not crooked, as we trekked from place to place -
to find that perfect tree to decorate our living space.
We trampled each direction and at last he gave a sigh.
We finally found that perfect spruce - my father, saw and I.
The night was strangely silent as we sat around our tree
when mom's love and compassion had been proven true to me.
Out through the corner of my eye, I viewed dejected years -
and though she tried to hold them back, I saw those lonely tears.
Throughout that night the light escaped reflecting off the floor,
and whispered prayers were carried out from underneath her door...
But light no longer flickers from the candles flaming tips
and silenced are the verses that I heard from mama's lips.
I know that father long regrets his former wicked ways -
but through my tears, I won't forget those special Christmas days
with scenes of the Nativity and tree exactly right,
with memories of mama and the truth that came to light.
Yes, this was many years ago that father and I spied -
then cut that perfect Norway Spruce the day before she died.
I heard his weeping through the door - such deep, repentant cries -
but now he sees as mama did... through humble Christmas eyes.
©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Romans 10 (NASB)
8 But what does it say? “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart”
—that is, the word of faith which we are preaching,
9 that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord,
and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved;
10 for with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness,
and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation.
11 For the Scripture says, “Whoever believes in Him will not be disappointed.”
12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek;
for the same Lord is Lord of all, abounding in riches for all who call on Him;
13 for “Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
Joe Breunig, 1 november 2012
An unsuspecting, little, field mouse
committed a simple mistake one day;
it unwittingly entered my rented house,
not knowing my cats wanted to play.
My feline buddies, Hijinx and Mischief,
decided to live up to their spirited names;
sadly, the field mouse was offered no relief –
for the boys had a live prize to claim.
By its tail, my cats had live entertainment;
although they’re allowed to have their fun,
from this one deed, my cats will never repent;
for they again had disobeyed - rule number one.
Since their English is not very good,
their one restriction they tend to forget;
so it’s not surprising they misunderstood,
my rule of: “Pets are not allowed to have pets!”
So now it was time for me to intervene;
performing an unexpected “Animal Rescue”,
I now became a mouse catching machine
and watched him scamper away from my view.
A new retrieval approach, I had to posit;
with the boys closely monitoring my work,
I quickly chased him into a nearby closet,
hoping my cats wouldn’t impatiently go berserk.
Removing items from the closet’s floor,
and contending with this fuzzy foreigner,
I eyed the boys – to keep him from being gored.
Eventually, I trapped him in the corner.
By the time I reached him, he had died –
traumatized until his last heart’s rush.
Unlike my curious pets, I became teary eyed,
as this escapade ended… with a toilet’s flush.
P.S. This based on a real event, that occurred when I was renting a small home in New Jersey.
-Joe Breunig
January/February 2012
Joe Breunig, 1 november 2012
I’m gently reminded of an old lesson,
that takes me back to Sunday School;
something, we’ve seem to have forgotten,
is living by the Bible’s “golden rule”.
For walking in God’s, true Love
towards others is always fashionable.
Remember! He has promised us strength
to operate under His “Christian label”.
When abiding by the principles of His Word,
we are able to treat others properly.
Desiring to be our brother’s keeper,
should assist us to more easily see…
faith’s operation within our lives.
Actions demonstrate what we believe;
so do what is right, because of the…
Love that we, have already received.
A real consequence of doing good,
is that our souls naturally profit;
know that you’ve lived a Godly life,
by honoring the Law and His prophets.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 7:12; 1 Chr 16:11; Gen 4:9;
Psa 28:6-8; 1 John 4:15-19
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 1 november 2012
Though Life can be extremely difficult
and experiences can deeply traumatize us,
we can learn to control how we respond -
as demonstrated by our Lord, Christ Jesus.
For He alone is the hope of our glory;
when we show genuine, jubilant enthusiasm,
we naturally exhibit that “God is within”;
thus, we’re able… to bridge sin’s chasm.
This separation from God can be overcome
with daily prayer and faith’s resilience.
Become intimate with your “Identity in Christ”
and continue to reflect the Kingdom’s brilliance.
Having energetic and vibrant attitudes,
we see more opportunities brought to our door.
Via God’s Love and abundance principles,
His blessings upon us… continue to pour.
Remember! We’re blessed to be a blessing;
prayerfully develop your mission’s vision.
Search for personal solutions within The Word,
while reducing the likelihood of… bad decisions.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Col 3:18-25; Eph 6:4-9
Enthusiasm is defined from a combination of Greek words: “Theos” means God, while the other two words are “En-Tae”, which implies within. So enthusiasm actually means the “God Within.” It is the shining source of goodness and respect for one’s self and others.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
louis gander, 1 november 2012
In quantities, our teardrops fall,
they drip off sorry faces -
resulting from our broken hearts.
We save them in our vases -
for yet another lofty dream -
another selfish rose.
Is anyone the wiser?
Tell me no one knows.
And here, our vases set alone,
still filled with empty dreams.
Oh, everybody has them -
it's just the way, it seems.
It's popularity for some -
for others; riches, gold.
But when it's over, said and done,
their rose is dead and cold.
The tears we shed are endless,
and from our souls drawn.
We water every selfish want -
then later wish them gone.
We hold our very special vase -
we think of only 'me' -
but rather where still waters are -
our tears of joy should be.
Do roses last forever?
There is a day they die -
then scattered are the pieces of
the heart that happened by.
Lost pieces, scattered everywhere -
forever, broken are -
and at the end of shattered dreams,
there's one eternal scar.
When in, our earthly dreams, we live,
regret is always sure -
for when we grow our selfish rose,
it simply won't endure.
I often wonder why we work,
and waste away the years -
accomplishing so little with
such lonely, painful tears.
So walk beside still waters.
Through joyful tears you'll see -
a love that never wavers and,
a grace that's always free.
And if your faith is watered
and grows from day to day -
there's really nothing more to do -
for joyful is the way!
©2011 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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