you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies
you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon
29 août 2020
Sad reflections from
Like a high UV index
they burn right into
your thoughts with a bit of compromise.
Close your eyes
to the possibility
has made itself at home.
You'll feel it, feel it
right to the bone.
But you crossed that bridge
In the time of
You gave consent to
sin by offering up
your sons and daughters.
in the shallow end of dissipated water.
all you like.
is not for sale.
And the angel light
that hits the wall
is not in the shape of Mary.
Evil always figures into
Don't you know? Heat rises. Blood falls.
So burn your prayers
on a stick. Roast them
in the campfire. You'll never turn
to God until you lie
dying. Broken and heaving.
Asking for forgiveness.
Which a man of cloth
Such a charmed life to leave.
Only it's a cheat.
Making you feel
warm and clever
as you bleed out. Regrettably,
your vacuous heart
sailed off on the Greta Garbo
your future for such marquee.
Banking on the
here and now.
From this there can be no redemption.
Beside a full size bed,
full of destiny and dream,
a corpse dressed up
to fit among
the living, softly sleeps.
Carving sAl(i)vAtiOn in black
marker on the walls,
recounting upset memories,
I stick the landing.
I didn't plan to stay
In this depressive state,
but I'm fully equipped.
Adaptable to necessity,
without trying to fit.
I may be sad, reclusive,
virulent at my worst --
When will you
come to terms with this curse?
When will you learn
When will you
fall in love with this curse?
When will you learn,
there's plenty room
for the misfit?
The Bible is replete with many
cautionary tales, of real people,
who have stumbled on their path
of Faith; like us, their journey
was fraught with unexpected woe.
Momentary mental lapses remind us,
of the need to capture detrimental
desires and thoughts; when we go,
anywhere without His Presence, we
take foolish risks. Are priorities
in alignment with His plan for our
lives? Are we, now hoping to see,
an escape from our accountability?
We must stay steadfast in our Godly
commitments and responsibilities;
if we fail, how will The World see…
that God is still relevant to Mankind?
Matt 6:33; 2 Cor 10:5; 2 Tim 1:7
Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2018, All rights reserved.
Once I was innocent
A dreamer, I loved you
I stepped so blindly in karmic labyrinth created
I followed your breadcrumbs
Life was perfect and the world reborn
The Empire you've built was seemingly perfect by design is flawed and cracked - how could I be blind?
All this time I've played like a puppet
This empire is no more a pile of cards - card and fragile
It must fall!
Now I wake up to the fire, tripping through ashes and decay
What do you see when you look at me wither away?
Do have feelings for me anymore?
Love me (yet)?
Our love story was blossoming
If only it were true ...
You gave me an adventure I lost my voice (and freedom)
Our love was just an illusion
All this time we were *******
We were hollow shells without souls
Machines without programming
We were nothing
I am a ghost whenever I am with you
Now that you are gone, I am reborn
I disintegrate into nothing but ashes, may the wind carry me away
At least, I am finally free........
Amore è cieco
A cautionary tale of lust vs. love
Amore e cieco - Italian for love is blind
I'll be eaten alive one day:
one day, i see it in my mind
so close to closure along an empty street
late at night
(owls just retired and birds
not yet up),
orbs of light tethered to tall electric poles
cast dappled circles on cracked pavement;
illumination and safety
(for that two metre radius).
Stepping between them
like a girl child on stones
across a garden,
I anticipate each missed step
as sinking into sand or frightful waves.
Singing drunk back-alley lullabies
i'll soothe the skelebabies in their sleep,
their poor crusted noses snuffled against
a cold shift of air
(their private torment plastered over billboards
with corporate logos and dim colours,
suggesting the city's lights have gone out and
the local government is in frantics.
That is, after all, what you'd focus on)
Girl child games were so tipsy and magic
(and so close to real coldness);
between two orbs of light i'll slip
through the cracks
in the pavement.
(eat me alive,
eat me alive,
eaten alive by the
wolf at the door)
A friend of mine was attacked by
her homicidal cat.
cats are quite toxic.
They are also really evil,
in a naturally stupid way.
Maybe it's about time we
seriously considered them
This I guess is half poem,
and half cautionary tale.
Your furry friend is an *******.
— The End —