"accomplishes" poems
Cry your eyes blind
no longer recognize
forever lost, never to find
never to change your mind
the smell of sweet pine
the texture of its rind
you will never lay yours eyes
Oh to what surprise
crying your eyes blind
accomplishes nothing but anguish
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
My memories deceive me, and my heart bleeds to thoughts of
you, poisoned from the curse that runs deep within my veins.
Do I halter and use the words that I can, to try with you,
another chance?
My memories deceive me, and my mind is headed to a paradox of
life that doesn't bring happiness but only a subtle feeling
of contentment. For in my memories you are with me in a
final, never ending dance.
My memories deceive me, as the bewildering cries from within
awaken the soul that has been bound by chains created from
the sins of my past life, and are made stronger by the sins
of which are my own.
My memories deceive me, as the rumors of your betrail fade
into the shadows but the calling from our hearts reach into
the light, violently, yet no sound have they shown.
My memories deceive me, trying to hold them back, all that
accomplishes is bringing you into my senses once again, but I
go forth to a different land with what could have and should
have been.
My memories deceive me, chased by an altered state of mind
where nothing has gone wrong, no death, no pain, just the
feeling of contentment once again.
My memories, they deceive me and everyone around me, for I do
not see faces, only souls that fade into surroundings. A
paralytic view is what they show, of what should have, could
have been you and me.
My memories deceive me, but could they instead be the truth
that I have been seeking as I try hard to sink them in
deeply...
My memories. My memories, immortal as they come, they open my
eyes, though they burn like facing the sun, in this time I
have begun, to realize my memories. They do not deceive, but
only conceive the past that I have forgotten and shields me
from...you.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
The spirit of invention is a wild one:
it does not fear failure,
it craves adventure,
lives on inspiration,
it is misunderstood,
yet preservers trough the hardest of times...
It accomplishes the impossible and elevates the spirit to new heights...
It has passion for art, creation and perfection...
The spirit of invention lives in us all.
Dare to release it!
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
Oh how glorious war is!
How efficient
And adequate!
The way it entertains the gods
When we shoot fireworks and missiles into the sky
It accustoms young women to waiting
Awards men for slaughtering men
Inspires tyrants to deliver long speeches
Adds pages to history books
Gives politicians something to bet on
Brought tears to Einstein’s eyes
Leaves men scarred for life
Gives poets new themes
Like Bukowski and Cummings
It produces less mouths to feed
Teaches historians that history is always repeating itself
Gives governments something to brag about
Pulverises countries until nothing is left
Accomplishes equality between killer and killed
Keeps the industry of artificial limbs in business
Gives grave diggers a pat on the back
See how glorious war can be?
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
It's not a competition
This idea you argue,
That someone has to have it worse,
Is only doing damage
To already broken people
There's no need for comparison
We all have problems
I trusted you with my secret
So that we could help each other,
Because what are we here for
If not one another,
It wasn't for you to judge me
Or tell me that your problems are worse
I didn't tell you
So you could make me feel bad
I came to you
In the confidence of friendship
Because I thought that you,
Of all people, would understand
Since you're dealing with your own issues
And I wouldn't feel so alone
I never realized I could be wrong
In thinking you had my back
But I surely won't make that mistake again
Why do you do this?
IT HAS TO STOP
We can't bully each other
About these illnesses
Fighting accomplishes nothing
And I will be the first to admit
That I need to work on who I am
But we all do
In our own different ways
Because the situations are not equal
Don't pretend that they are
My situation affects me
And yours affects you
Differently
It may seem like nothing to you
But it's breaking me down inside
Destroying my world
Swallowing me whole
And because of you
Because you would rather hurt me
Than help me
I only have two options
I can either figure it out on my own,
It wouldn't be the first time,
Or I can let it make me sick
So sick that I "look the part"
So no one can deny it anymore
But by then it will be too late
And I will only be an example
Of how no one cares
Until it's too late to help
So let's be a better example
For those of us to come
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
messing with perfection,
you critique yourself,
why do it yet again,
a single choice, *******
yet every time them words,
penetrate, they instigate,
and you want to let~vent,
burst busting out in glory
bible student, we both. so
understand that titled reference
instantly, the secondary hid, secreted
a hurting with hallelujah familiarity
I weep. missing the singer,
his poetry delights, paralyzes with
a *********** indescribable, ecstaticly
indebted to him, his chosen words
he chose, I chose,
this decision to accept,
the need to expiate, explain, to better
understand our whys,
therby grasp our wherefores,
to give ourselves up entire,
thereby making, giving and even
t a k i n g,
the very chore so human to accept,
that surrendering,
f o r g i v i n g, one
accomplishes a chance to uncover the godliness within
that sparks
our frail humanity
to blossom to fruition, that our
fragility is the thinnest tissue of
diamond iron strength
encasing and encoding us unique
but yet united by
a single commonality,
that we are holy,
born to be
to be celebrated
and to share our voices
so differing
in an
unceasing
harmony
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 9:11 AM UTC
theres a bully in my bathroom.
she resides on my floor-just staring back at me
she just lays there smiling and taunting me
shes great at doing it-for she accomplishes it without words
i never understand why she picks on my but then again she picks on everyone
i can see right thru her
shes that superficial and that basic
her body is just one shape no curves no nothing
but because of her-girls across the nation want to go in hibernation forever.
theres a bully in my bathroom
like i said i can see right thru her
she stands right at our foot height she isnt even tall
our lives revolve around her for shes not just in mine but shes in yours too
she lurks with the doctors and puts on a sweet face
for they think shes a huge help
but shes the biggest bully around
she comes in all colors and shapes.
only stands tall with the doctors
theres a bully in my bathroom
and when i step on her she just weighs me down.
weighs us down
theres a bully in my bathroom
and shes taking over the worlds self esteem
but maybe it isnt her-maybe its societies standards
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth
luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters
sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue
ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations
organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies
my affair
accomplishes much
for little
it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.
a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.
lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.
all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
Into the dust, His breath was breathed,
giving Mankind its first gift of Life;
therefore, we should recognize and give
thanks to God, the Holy Spirit and Christ.
Whispers of prayers to our sacred God,
create results within a context of Hope;
time spent with Him accomplishes more
and transcends Humanity’s limited scope
of understanding a lifetime of struggle.
With our voices, we acknowledge, praise,
honor and worship God in acts of faith-
knowing He accepts our prayers everyday.
He bends down to willingly listen to us,
to hear our heart-felt prayers each time.
In Him alone, we move and have our being,
within the existence of His familial line.
Prayer-less days have a detrimental effect
of allowing the spiritual erosion of souls;
so we will continue our communion with Him,
since our fellowship remains an eternal goal.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Loosely based on:
Gen 2:7; Acts 17:28; Psa 66:20,116:2
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/
n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got laying around.
a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>
self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-urinal, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration
**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded
into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.
in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close
still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.
the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,
and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.
______________________
r
Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
Multiple times you have been taken from me without my approval.
Spinning, black, nauseating.
The foreign hands touch me.
No.
Face in the dirt.
Dark.
Dizzy.
What is going on?
Stop putting my head there.
Swept into your arms I am dead weight But of course you can manage.
Multiple times I have put myself in the position where they can act upon the morals that they don’t have.
He does what he wants.
Stop.
He accomplishes his goal.
And leaves naked in the night.
Black.
You carry me in, knowing what happened.
You look at me straight and I can’t see your face.
This is okay though, right?
Multiple times your morals have vanished.
(no).
You say lets go somewhere else and we walk to the porch.
Bromine, Oxygen, Thymine, foreign to me.
Testosterone.
Stop it.
Testosterone.
No.
Get out of my house.
I’m coming to Nebraska and I’m staying with you.
(No).
Pacing. terrified.
No.
I love you.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Sometimes I sit and wonder
who would I want to be
if I weren't me?
Would I be that girl who always
accomplishes her goals?
Would I be that woman
who made it to the top?
But then I start to wonder,
to the top of what?
Sometimes I'll sit and daydream....
of something spectacular I want to do.
But I can never fully grasp
what that spectacular thing is.
I run from one dream to another
with no closure
and never really waking up
from the dream.
Sometimes I'll sit and think about
yesterday, or ten years ago... or twenty
and I question why I did the things I did.
Some events were easy,
some were difficult....
and I pat myself on the back
for making it
through those tough times.
Then I scold myself
for not accomplishing more
during the easy times.
But most of the time
I just worry a lot.
I worry about the future.
How will I ever afford to fully retire?
How will my children care
for an elderly mother?
How much longer will I live?
Sometimes I simply look around me
and drink in the here and now.
Sometimes I feel so full of love and joy I could burst!
So many things to be thankful for,
so many.
I know now that life goes by so quickly.
So lately when I sit and wonder about my life,
I think the best way I can spend the rest of it
is by simply thinking of others and doing for others.
Even some simple little thing
like bringing someone flowers,
or visiting someone lonely....
might just be the most important things
I can ever do with the rest of my life.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
Become a spiritual light upon a hill, with faith
that does not flicker or become extinguished.
Let your life shine, thereby allowing the God-colors
within your life to draw others to Christ.
There is no hiding from Jehovah; why even try?
The Lord is not a man, that He should lie!
Learn to naturally avoid all forms of evil
and shun potential occurrences of spiritual upheaval.
Light always pierces and scatters the darkness.
Light some candles; cursing the shadows
accomplishes nothing meaningful or useful.
Cast off any works or semblances of darkness.
There is no hiding from Jehovah; why even try?
The Lord is not a man, that He should lie!
For His holy wisdom provides solutions with clarity;
embrace Him and His principles and finally see…
Darkness is more than obscurity; it shows lack;
it demonstrates the absence of Truth and Light.
Hidden things will ultimately be revealed,
before our righteous Lord and His Kingdom.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Luke 8:17; Matt 5:14-16; Rom 13:11-12; Job 12:22, 34:22
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
Numbness eats through my soul
I feel her toxins in my veins
solidifying and immobilizing me
In deep sleep I'm falling through
Apathy is oh so popular
Wishing never accomplishes
Neat death is slowly slipping
I see her countenance once again
This is it, I am dead
Wait
A slight brush on my cheek
Your sweet touch wakes me
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:11 AM UTC
We talked
he and i about
all the reasons why you and i can't
talk anymore
we talked for a long time
I don't remember the last time we,
you and i, really
talked about things that weren't
relevant or recent
it's been a long time
We've been talking with our lips but
hardly ever in the way that
accomplishes things
or reveals things i didn't already know
about you or the things that matter to you
this silence is kind of deafening and my lips are feeling lost
i tried to talk the other day to you about me and us and our things
but i couldn't find the words
and so
the talking didn't last
and the space between my words got very large and heavy
and the tears between my eyelids got very large and heavy
and maybe even slipped out
once or twice
But we talked
he and i about
all the reasons why you and i can't
talk anymore
And I had lot's to say
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
i witnessed it traverse across and rip the sky open
in one big swoop
like my zipper when i
**** on the curb
careless
maybe if i cared less
it wouldn’t have affected me
this meteorite of reality
crushing all i have
i am nothing
for i am to them only
what i provide and prove
nothing more
give
give
give
silently stars cry
as we all enjoy and benefit
from the glimmer and light dance
as we all look away
while they dwarf into voids
there is a man
somewhere
in some corner of some bookstore
or bar or apartment building
filling his lungs and soul
with tar
while he wishes it was
the world
which he could watch
burn
instead of himself
and as he’s practically forced to pick a side
and pick another pick me girl
another job application
a college major
a plethora of healthy habits
yet still amongst so many
and so many choices
he sits alone
what brings despair is cheered upon
what he accomplishes is
stomped
like a bug
burned to dust
at mach speeds
the same curb he ****** on
graffiti on the wall behind it
it says
“live
love
laugh”
he
definitely
laughs
has he brought this
ying and yang of life
upon himself?
why does it all seem just bad
sometimes?
why is the joy and genuineness of people
so fleeting?
why is it ninety nine percent
utter ********
and the rest just
dark matter?
only sometimes
fluctuating into a
big bang
of the real
version of us
he tries to live
he tries to love
is there really a
*******
difference?
doesn’t one just **** you
quicker than the other?
or at least feels like it?
i’d rather laugh
i’ll just face the mirror
face them all
face all of it
and just
*******
laugh
it’s all
comedy
anyways
just let
me
****
and
laugh
in
peace
and
in
pieces
now that
is what
i call
a genuine
choice
and i call it one
as i call my own
horrible hypocrisy
it’s the only
*******
choice
left
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 2:44 AM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
Love
is a fire
in each of us;
it is fueled by every
breath we take and it is
kindled by wholesome
faith and passion.
Love
is a persistent
blaze that is only
extinguished
by the
suffocation
of our death.
Love will
burn
until
there is
no air left
to feed it.
Hatred is
not the absence
of love; hatred is the
conflagration that sparks
from the haphazard tending
of the inherent love-flame.
Hatred is merely
the byproduct of a
series of choices that
ultimately result in
suppressing or
denying that
which is
undeniably
aflame within us.
Hate steals our breath—
the precious air—causing
the flame of love to wane,
yet love's fire will burn
at any cost.
Love,
of
its
right
to consume,
will always aim to
overcome and redefine itself
as well as any flame that rivals it.
Destruction is intrinsic of a flame.
Yet, love's fire endures to make
us pure.
Severe
structural damage
is inevitable, as love will
destroy all that is not of it.
But, love will never
destroy us.
Love
works
to destroy
the machinations
we have allowed
the ruinous
world
to
*****
within us.
We must all choose a
flame to tend and we must
also choose how to tend it.
We must never misuse
the bellows of faith, lest we
start another fire that will ultimately
starve that of atonement and purity—
the one we were all born with—
the one in what's absence
we would cease to exist.
Fighting fire with fire
accomplishes nothing directly;
it only succeeds in adding
'wild' to the fire,
encouraging an
incinerating confusion.
We must focus our attention
to giving the love-flame
the fuel it desires
and let its
nature
take
course.
As love thrives
to grow within us,
all other fires will
cower and die.
The flame
of love
will
leave
us clean
and whole;
a tended flame
by any other name
will leave us
ashen and
wasted.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
i cannot do.
make do i cannot.
to understand what makes only my surroundings happy.
what wrong keeps returning inside of me to leave me out?
envy those lucky and careless, i do, for i cannot
do no more than merely wish for a smile to spread,
not the numbness weighing down my chest, flooding the gateways of my veins with its poison like wet black paint.
i do not want to make this all i know;
its familiarity scares me.
what am i missing out on?
when sad longing eyes scan from the corner
over the strangers i do irritate myself seeing,
the fault in isolating myself is clear.
finding too many flaws and reasons to
throw away the key of eternal joy.
why do i do this to myself, thinking about
how upsetting it is that i find it sad how
i am not alive only in dreams.
my mind begs me to stop all this from happening.
it needs a get out jail card, but unfortunately these types
do not come for free.
because i cannot always feel what others feel.
i am cast out from having too much fun,
and jealousy accomplishes so little.
but indulge in too much pity i refuse.
the universe doesn't care about anyone
it does not keep promises for anyone.
believing in its reliability to keep you feeling
wanted, and with purpose and worth
is not worth it.
it does not stop for anyone
especially not to make sure i am feeling okay
on this gloomy monday morning.
i would rather be anywhere else.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
What the hell does that mean?
When does someone become an adult?
When they turn 18? 21?
Or does age even matter?
Maybe it’s more about what someone does.
How much someone accomplishes.
What makes someone an adult?
Driving?
Moving out of your parents house?
Getting an education?
Losing their virginity?
Having a full time job?
Making money?
Marriage? Children?
What if I haven’t accomplished any of these?
What does that make me?
All I know is that I’m 25
and still feel like a ******* child.
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 10:31 PM UTC
His craft is unique.
Unable to be recreated.
An innovator,
A creator.
His hand a machine,
Wielding various tools,
A paintbrush,
A pencil,
A pen.
He befalls to beauty,
Triumph,
And pain,
Embodying each to create.
Every canvas marked by his emotions,
His visions,
His ideas and mastery.
He lives, breathes his work.
Each day adding to his ingenuity.
He will not give up,
Till the world hears his cry,
Till the world can see his vision.
He embodies what society needs,
And creates for his audience.
A masterful dance,
That he accomplishes with grace.
He makes his mark with passion.
A skill unlike any other.
He was born for this.
It seeps through his blood,
And guides his life.
He is an artist.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Every day I close my eyes
I feel like screaming; instead I sigh.
Sometimes I wonder why
I'm still breathing and seeing the sky.
I can be happy if I choose to be
But I can't be happy by myself
And I know it's difficult for me
To get along with someone else.
I try, but so many
Ramble on stupidly
I'd like to slap them silly
But know that accomplishes nothing.
So I have to breathe
I have to care for me
No-one else knows how to
It's the best thing I do.
I can be happy if I choose to be
I could be happy by myself
But I know that some love me
And don't want anyone else.
8th June 2017
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 7:02 AM UTC
Vented topsoil nation
1500m below the sea
A Bismarkian mystery
***** by the International Seabed Authority.
Yeah, I know
We weren't even there
To say aye or nay
But we're gonna **** it anyway.
"Inevitable environmental damage"
Plays backseat to the real "need"
And the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea
Gives the poor folks some of the proceeds...
Yippee.
"We are at the threshold of a new era of deep seabed mining."
Knowledge well worth having
But not executing
Not on this planet.
The Clarion-Clipperton Zone
An entire alien race's home
They think they have it all mapped
But it doesn't depict their head up their ***
"Proper controls equals proper sustainability."
Are bold words for someone with no accountability
It's just a paycheck
For someone who doesn't give a ****
Soil Machine Dynamics
Accomplishes the fantastic
With seafloor mining tools
Never before used.
We rise up
As we fall down
Choking on our own failures
With eyes to the sun.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
There is great beauty in "ugliness",
and there is great joy in "pain."
We know each through their opposites.
Existence and non existence give birth to the idea of each other.
The idea of difficulty and ease produce one another.
Length and shortness fashion out the figure of each other.
High and low contrast and measure each other,
like how musical notes become harmonious through
the relation of one with another
and past, present, and future require each other.
This is how the Sage
accomplishes without doing
anything at all and he
and teaches without
having to say a word.
As things arrive and disappear
he lets them come and go freely.
He possesses but does not own
and perform without expectation.
When he finishes his work,
he releases it without attachment,
that's why it continues eternally.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 4:27 AM UTC
Dejected by the performance
in an administrative test
a guy returning home
couldn't give his best
Perturbed mind
deluged with spike
It was only his reflexes
controlling his bike
A crowd gathered
on the road
grabbed his attention
switching off his thinking mode
He applied brakes
only to know
the real life and the turns
it takes
An office guy
had met an accident
remaining was the trampled car
while the soul had gone far
Filled with mixed feelings
of guilt and fear
sitting on the roadside
he couldn't stop his tear
Gathering himself
he kicked the bike
Mind was dumb
with no more spike
He reached home
and hugged his parents
he had got his answers
and he never laments
In spite of aiming high targets
he now accomplishes his immediate goals
Instead of showing off in the society
he plays his each and every role
For now, life is his only test
and he has to give his best
Today, an engineer near to his village
he writes and writes with courage....
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 7:08 AM UTC