there are deep echoes across the dry wall
so sky seems brassy and bereft of cloud
while goat is nimble and tempts you to fall

to stony death where no one will recall
how once you were so youthful and so proud
there are deep echoes across the dry wall

where the old vultures circle seeing all
the land below them forested or ploughed
while goat is nimble and tempts you to fall

from narrow path your heart now seems so small
and fate so large the silence seems so loud
there are deep echoes across the dry wall

the distant birds across the sky now scrawl
in ragged letters on the small puffy cloud
while goat is nimble and tempts you to fall

into forever certain none will bawl
the earth itself will be your only shroud
there are deep echoes across the dry wall
while goat is nimble and tempts you to fall

Tall men think of robust ladies
Shorter ladies dream of length,
Toothless people fantasize
Of mandibles of white, bright strength.
Porcine women lust for thinness
Breast less girlies long for *****,
Dissatisfaction fills the air
It's greener grass or down the tubes.

Black man hopes for pale complexion
White girls bake to raise a tan,
Brown eyed lassie's envy blue-ness,
***** lesbian's, a man.
The wealthy want the easy life
Beggars yearn for cash,
Dissatisfaction's in the air
And mirrors are so trash.

Across the human spectrum far
Mankind wants for more,
The grass is always greener
Looking through another door.
It's bigger, better, brighter, best
The quest is always there
Relentlessly pursued with glee,
Bright eyes and bushy hair.

Results are mixed and varied here
Some reach the holy grail
To watch it slip beyond their grasp
Then founder, fall and fail.
Some teeter on a platform,
Some grasp the prize and run,
Some hit their stride at bounding pace
To see the contest won.

But by and large there's misery
Few climb the road to joy,
Frustration be my brother
Dissatisfaction be my ploy.
Limitation is our lot in life.
Our secret to success
Is to love the mirror warts and all
All other **** ...suppress !!


M.

A few months ago
I was counting the days
until you left
because your lack of presence
would have been a better present
than the one you didn't give me
for my birthday this year

Every night I would wait
for the day to come
when you wouldn't be near
as if your body was in my bed
pressing down on my chest
until I could no longer breathe

Hating your best friend
will not hurt them
but it will twist your own heart
in ways you never thought possible
and you will pray on stars with fingers crossed
that it might break
or better
stop beating

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
and the tears in our blanket
and the tears in our eyes
have been thoughtlessly mended
with intertwined fingers
in basement bathrooms of bars
we couldn't find again
with a map to guide us

Tomorrow you'll leave me
and move on to adventures
more exciting
than drunk searches
for familiar faces
on streets we could draw perfectly
with blurred vision

I hate to say I'll miss you
and I hate more to see you go
but your darkness was always
darker than mine
and your light was always
too bright for me to look at
so I hope the contrast
of the rainy days and the sunshine
fills you up
in a way nothing else ever has

You were born to fly away
but never given the chance
so I hope you find
that the airplane wings
fit you just right

I hope you accidentally leave
the little broken pieces of yourself
on the cobblestone in London
and in the fountains of Rome
and do not realize it
until you return home

I wish you the best
and the same for myself
because two flowers
cannot grow
in one ***
but if grown separately
they can one day
make a beautiful bouquet

i find it so hard to sit and listen to something I don't believe.
I feel the urge to stand up and shout and preach of the deceit.
But I must withhold my thoughts and respect the views of others,
For I would hate it if someone felt that my voice should be smothered.
But I just can't comprehend how people can follow so blindly,
How they can hold no voice for themselves, yet listen to others kindly.
Accept all they say for they are in control,without question or doubt,
Or understanding what' truly lies within their own soul.


And mind.

And heart.

You have to make your peace with the fact
That some of the most beautiful things you will ever create
Will be made in the names of people who don't even know about them,
And could never come close to appreciating the feeling behind them even if they did.
Your choice as an artist is,
Will you let that make your art less beautiful,
Or will it stand lonely and exquisite, because something in it is only yours?
There is a difference between loving someone and what loving them creates in you.
A person can leave you, can ignore you, can forget you, can misunderstand you.
But the art that you create in their name will never do any of those things.
This is your time to choose
Whether you hold what you create because of love as yours,
Or let someone else own-
And possibly destroy-
Something it's likely they haven't even truly looked at.

The symbolism of this Christmas classic
has a second, hidden meaning for the ages.
For this song has an ulterior motive,
contained in verses that seem outrageous.

Christ is the truest fulfillment of Love,
in the primary doctrine of Christianity;
therefore, He is the focus of each refrain,
being the sin offering on Crucifixion’s tree.

The pair of turtle doves represents books,
volumes of both the Old and New Testaments.
The Bible embodies the Spirit of God calling…
for the World to turn to Christ and repent.

The three french hens stand for the trinity
of metaphysical concepts: Faith, Hope and Love.
Despite questionable claims, Love requires action-
and that some of us need a gentle, spiritual shove.

Four calling birds correspond to the Good News,
found in accounts of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.
Together they present a harmonious view of Christ
and the divine message of the Gospel’s Song.

The five golden rings echo the Jewish Torah,
one of the first accounts of God’s spiritual laws.
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy
remind of Redemption’s need to offset human flaws.

Six geese a-laying demonstrate the creativity of God,
regarding His work in the archetype days of creation.
For we are to lift up our eyes and see Him, through
inspiration that fuels our desires and imaginations.

The swans a-swimming represent the seven-fold gifts
from the Holy Spirit: Prophesy, Serving, Exhortation,
Teaching, Contribution, Leadership, and God’s Mercy…
holy promises that complement the substance of Salvation.

The eight maids a-milking reflect the Beatitudes,
a message given by Christ at the Sermon on the Mount.
He taught Heavenly concepts, in which we are blessed,
via inspired platitudes for us- to joyfully recount.

Nine ladies dancing recall the Fruits of the Spirit:
Love, Joy, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Self-Control,
Faithfulness, Peace, and Gentleness - sacred constructs
for soothing the pains, experienced by our weary souls.

The lords a-leaping personify Jehovah’s Ten Commandments:
instructions for worshiping only Him, keeping the Sabbath,
and various prohibitions against idolatry, blasphemy, ******,
theft, dishonesty, and adultery, which lead us off His path.

The eleven pipers piping constitute the faithful Disciples,
who walked the Earth with Christ, observing Him firsthand.
They were the original, Christian acolytes who were taught-
how to live victoriously under the pressure of Life’s demands.

The drummers drumming symbolize the twelve points of belief,
outlined in the religious doctrine, called the Apostles' Creed.
Now with greater insight, lift your voice and sing this song,
using your faith in God, that you willingly and lovingly concede.
.
.
.

Author Notes:

This my poetic interpretation of the familiar Christmas song. From 1558ad until 1829ad, Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to openly practice their faith. An unknown author, during that era, wrote this carol as a Catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning, originally known only by members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word, implying a religious tenet, which children could easily remember.

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid;=1387452157&sr;=8-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

Okay that's it
I finally quit
I've had my years of fun

I've got exercise
Clear in my sights
Fat will soon be on the run

Had a problem in
Getting in the gym
The doors won't fit my **** double wide

So in disgrace
I plaster my face
On the window to watch the skinny's inside

In my depressed state
I went and ate
Another meal served up for four

One thing I like
About the places I dine
There's always room in and out the door

Then guilt overwhelms
Like a hellhound
As I was in the middle of my desert

It could have come sooner than this
And for that I am blessed
It could have come during my last course

Here I am back in my boat
Without a paddle to row
My only form of exercise

But before it's to late
I toss a little more dirt on my grave
With another order of double fries

With my meal out of the way
I go back to the start of the day
Which seems to be sunnier than ever

I decide to go for a jog
Before all my arteries clog
Maybe though I'll wait for better weather

........................................................­........

Here we are a new day
This is the earliest I've ever been late
You know what they say about catching the worm

I stop to eat my worm on the way
IHOP  double stack pancakes
Will that worm never learn

The only exercise these days
Is a fork in my face
If this were the Olympics I'd win a prize

I wonder if this is considered a sport
The reaching of maple syrup
And wouldn't squeezing the bottle also be exercise

I'll try tomorrow again
To reign myself in
One of these days it's bound to catch

I'll look to the future in life
Instead of behind
Then at least I won't have to look at my fat...

Your heart has been broken and so has mine.
Many times over by the same punch line.
You act so strong and stand so tall.
I smile real big yet feel so small.
But when destiny allows our paths to cross,
The affect of this broken heart becomes our greatest loss.
Numbing our emotions so we can't feel.
Denying this beautiful connection which could heal.
The words in my mouth taste stale and old.
While you become too realistic and cold.
We don't fall freely as we had before,
Because the pieces of our hearts are still falling to the floor.

There was a time when I was sane
when I used to walk among daffodils.
When they used to open up and sing
their unadorned song from hill to hill.

There was a time when I was sane
when the trees used to sway
and the leaves used to rustle
just to lay their flowers in my way.

When I was sane,the eagles
from their eyries,used to fly high
and block the sun with their wings.
Just so it wouldn't be in my eyes.

The clouds would come at my call.
And the rain would fall only for me.
The diamond drops would break
and bedeck the ground at my feet.

Looking at the night sky,
at the star studded lanes,
I would see the moon smile at me
and know that I was sane.

I used to create new worlds
with living words from my pen.
Full of marvels they used to be.
But that was all then...

Wrapt I was in fantasy
while the world moved on.
It has moved away from me
while,impassive,I looked on.

People said I was not sane,
told me that where I lived
there were no daffodils;
No promise in how I lived.

Now that I'm cured,I see
that I'd been but a fool
who believed Horton really lived
in the Jungle of Nool.

No magic rings in reality.
No wonderland or wicked witches.
No Elves nor dragons.
Not even Quidditch and snitches.

Now cured,I see reason.
The flowers never did sing.
Nor did any eagle fly for me.
Reason came but relief did not bring.

All those words I created,
All those worlds I cherished,
All too soon yea all too soon
All have but perished.

Now I see people toiling away
in richness,poverty and ignorance.
I see children bent with age;
In their eyes,everything but innocence.

Reluctantly now moves my pen
as I try to make new worlds.
Stringing letters together it desponds.
As lacking life,they are but words.

Everything used to be wonderful
when I knew I was sane.
Now that I've seen reality,
I know I must be insane.