#tarnished
In my efforts to escape your issues, I'm left tarnished with the residue I gathered up any grace I could salvage before my heart became more ravaged I would rather be humbled than crumbled from all of the weight of your struggles
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 11:30 PM UTC
Borderline hues shatter upon the
fragmentations
of sullen gullied pools..
Where the refraction of utopia shines,
the *** is deceitful and tarnished.
As every prism of reverence disperses.
Heaven is a shard of falsehood
cutting into the sky...
Perceptions see an aura-borealis.
But woven with the beauty
is the curse of fallen angels..
For all who stared upon the glare
were severed from sight...
Dilating upon the sorrow of
written words etched in eyelids.
The world was beauty, and you blinded it..
Now we will scratch every word inward.
See the error of your ways, and walk as before.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 6:53 PM UTC
_You build your nest of pretty words,
Sly threads of verbiage,
Plucked from outworn phrases,
Secondhand sentiments and frayed metaphors.
A thorny simile, a faded pink ribbon,
Of rhetoric woven with silky streamers;
A warp and weft of fond and found,
Borrowed references and stolen verses.
You recycle the shining heart,
Of another’s penmanship,
Modelling it into a tarnished,
Uninspired and untitled composition
...OF YOUR OWN..._
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 8:41 PM UTC
_Is it not a paradox that her deception should leave her beauty so unmarked? Her winsome countenance - generously admired - leaves her suitors abject; mere puppets on a string.
Verily, the essence of her is as a tarnished trinket. For to mine own soul she appears as jaded as a ***** house quean. Her eyes which once shone with the light of truth unblemished, a colourless and infinite mire overgrown with the entangled falsehoods she has seeded._
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 9:24 PM UTC
Mascara smudges
dripping,
as snowmen
evaporate.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 5:01 PM UTC
An integral trait
that protected and built
in her, withers.
Curses slowly slithers
off her tongue
leaving her soul stung,
for she swore never to say
on any day.
Reputation tarnished;
label faded;
mind polluted,
for she no longer felt demure
and pure.
Enticed by the modern world;
contamination injects,
mutating and leaving her
not able to recognize herself.
For now she stares in the
restroom mirror,
shedding tears
over her shedding skin.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 4:13 AM UTC
The flames that melted innocence
Ravaged my soul uncontrollably
Doused by aspiration of purity
If only I could be clean again
If only I was
Unbeated
Unbruised
Unscathed
Doused Flames
Melted Innocence
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
tarnished
throat of brass
spirits dancing
wild and free
on puffs of wind
soaring and floating
with each note
from the depths of
my soul through
something so beautifully
my saxophone plays
Its own masterpiece
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
Halos are a pagan tradition
of hanging a sunlit nimbus
over the head of great people;
it’s a crown of light rays
to shed an implied importance.
The genuine humility of Christ,
will always shine more brightly
than the human ego, that insists
on sporting tilted, tarnished halos.
For Him, it’s of no consequence!
Our Lord is a spiritual high priest,
attributed with characteristics of
pureness, innocence and greatness;
these halos are nothing more than a…
fashion accessory of shiny nonsense.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Heb 7:26
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Rider upon a white horse
She moved like the clouds
Swift her hooves barely touched ground
The rider upon her Back
Amour shone bright
Justice,
Honour,
Peace,
Of the land did they fight,
Betrayed were they
From inside the white ranks,
Tied upon the white steed
And this is where honour died,
Bleed out,
Drained of life
Death seeped in to white
Vengeance was born
Hooves no longer pure
Black,
Tarnished,
Sinful,
Was the name of one who was once pure,
But now had a coat of crimson,
The rider now but tarnished metal
Inside vengeance burnt,
White,
Intense,
Broken,
Was the soul, only retribution
Would bury them both,
Let there tormented souls be free,
The rider,
The horse,
Upon the land, seeking out injustice
Making hooves shed flesh
The hand of justice sought to be
Judge,
Jury,
Executioner,
As word travelled, ears heard
What mouths let out,
The man who was white
Not of justice,
Not of right,
Betrayer of integrity took flight,
For retribution was at hand,
And it burnt white hot,
Nights,
&
Days,
Past, before weary eyes slept,
loomed over was justice
Watching that which had bleed life,
Had tarnished existence
What wasn't death, neither life,
Eyes awoke,
In to Darkness they fell,
As Rider stood tall,
Honour must be dealt,
For injustice bleed red
Screams from below,
Bellowing excuses, of jealousy
No excuse to extinguish life,
Justice was dealt upon the man
For no longer would he have
Sight
or
Hear
To live what time was left
To live in darkness
Hearing only his voice,
To know that this was worst than death,
For no sunrise seen,
Only shadows of nothing,
No words ever heard only tormented by inner voices,
Death would have been easy
The torment is life.
Retribution and honour were pasted,
So rider and steed looked beyond the sunrise
And faded in to dust, spread upon the land..
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
tarnished child
who the zoo
is not new
to
time, present, past and
future
are all
redeemable
and I ought to
have told you
before
it's not a heart
beating
but a drumming
from before that
sounds like
a record of
its own accord
30 years,
bare and white
baring, daring, breathing
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC