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acacia Nov 4

You dance to know replacements until a blue is shown
Feeling soft hair, afro fur
The Sun lands right next to me
I cower away
He pushes his warmth in my face,
I gently sway and try to step away,
his rays hold me in place—orange hues;
he questions me, "Why Mercury?"
This is my shadow, I must not fear—
I can still repent
Blind my eyes to dream of a land where it is just us
Sun and I
I yoke with source, my patterns unravel
Revealing the Sun


It is my womb I bathe in
Ouroboros, original dyadic unity:
lovers are face-to-face two times,
one split his soul in two—
pair of lovers are face-to-face in frozen emergence;
he wanted to conquer more, it was his grave mistake:
WORLD centers Him, and WORLD is Him
Fallen Hermes, and dying Sun


I sit in the Sun to dote in the things that fill my vase
I pour my vase over my subtle feet
The liquid abstractions bead on my skin
I am aware of the beetle's journey up my back,
the desert dunes it crawls behind my quiet shores
I take the brown sugar bedded under the tall grass,
I compile it over my soul with intent—I remake, I recreate
with no accidents or purpose so I can see that I have been there
Meager and lionized
Tony Tweedy Oct 18
If you want to see what becomes of optimists just look upon the faces of those people coming out of betting shops and casinos.

A pessimist will tell you that optimism is an addiction that will cost you as much as you are willing to wager and eventually the house will win.

You can only be as optimistic as you are lucky.
I bet you I am right....
tell moon
reverent planet
zebra dies
with lots
of often
lost clothes
there with
clean stripes
of vibrant
news and
laid by
scholarly rouge
well in
his shoes
that ramparts
were so
very mule
a love of law
A ride today in Des Moines
that appraise law and counteract
any that country may enact
where Wichita lineman forthwith

and mackinaw shall really embellish
furthermore with Granny Smith
awhile down stream on a riverboat
that foregoing is never behind

where a river is always wide
and bourgeois with a paddle wheel stride
why his atropine smile
reach the delta with such desire
and let him take the home route

in an abode of parish shanty
where river dance makes day long  
a simple beast, a man

with chinchilla wrap round his neck
that sweep her off flourishing deck
these stratospheric ideals now  
for sovereign witness entail campaign.
One of many apologetic arguments
is an application of Game Theory,
as defined by “Pascal’s Wager”;
ideas of infinite gain make leery

skeptics doubt a likely existence
of an omnipotent and omniscient God,
Who is worthy of our time and talent.
They believe this premise is flawed,

as they willingly bet against Hell,
damnation and its infinite losses;
the discussion, of rational thought
and atheistic stances, crisscrosses

mental boundaries in search of Truth.
Is finite loss of luxury and pleasure
worth the Christian lifestyle today?
Where are you storing your treasures?
Author notes

Inspired by:
Gen 1; Matt 6:19-20 and

More info on Wikipedia

Learn more about me and my poetry at:

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.

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