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well layers
are peeling
for Trump
as they
have come
to light
there in
New York
that still
flashes Hildebrand
deeply in
rhetoric while
Solzhenitsyn has
decried labor
camps and
Putin still
looks blank
when the majority claims the need
to violently fight for its minority rights
something is rotten in this nation
Apropos Charlottesville's domestic terror attack...
The words of empty rhetoric,
don’t impress the unsaved;
Love requires real actions
of Faith; one day, a grave

will contain soiled remnants
of how, we were perceived;
the memories others recall,
are what they often received-

by the witness of our lives.
Before men, we’re justified
through our works of Love;
yet, it’s Christ crucified…

that serves as the impetus
behind our true motivations;
He’s the standard for living
and grace against damnation

of our eternal souls.
Inspired by:
Jam 2:24; Exo 17:15–16

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Daniel Mashburn Aug 2016
What's another sleepless night on the path to infinity? Here's to the pills to make me chill but still don't do anything. So I'm just staring at the inside of my eye lids watching the scenes of my life play out on my internal movie screen.

I see in vivid colors the memories that I thought I had let go, but were continuously burning from within me. Like the time I spoke venom and rhetoric at the loss of my notebooks and it was probably then and there that you fell out of love with me.

Or the moment you got too close so I shut down and refused to speak. Those times got more frequent and fraught with the fear to be open and honest but a liar I'd never be. So we sat in silence in the car like a sad film scene where it would rain, but we wouldn't cry, and so you fell out of love with me.

And if there's a demon in me, he's learned to speak in silver lined tongue and in prose and in rhyme and to paint pictures with words so he can pretend he's free. But I'm still haunted by the actions and the fears of a scared and tired little heart housed in chain and ice and it's when these fears came to life: I learned I'll never be free and so I fell out of love with me.
Michael Ryan Jun 2016
I thought about two ideas
to write about and I
didn't write about either.

One had to do with
sidewalks and people--
the plundering
of personality
that happens
even when you walk
where it should be safe to be.

The other
was about technology--
that inside our veins
instead of polysaccharides
was the wires
to our electronics;
that stitch themselves inside
to keep us plugged in.

Maybe it was the in-toxicity
of having to try and fail
a persona that perpetuates
underachievement

or a rebel
that displays rebellion
by not rebelling at all.

My mind is the lackluster
of copper compared to silver--
its dull ensemble
may be its greatest achievement
a replication of someone else's words
because mine
lack the quality to be appreciated.

And my information for poetry
is irrelevant to the real world--
because these are analogies
they are the rhetoric of argument

the imagination of 'youth'
and from my age
deemed to lack understanding
so I cannot be president,
hardly can I speak,
nor should I be listened to.
To ignore the voices of people based off of their age is to under value the potential of society as a whole.
Never label a politician as an idiot;
even if the label is true.
Chances are they still know;
better than they do.
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