"brennan" poems
Watch out, or you will find that you're
On President Trump's Enemies List,
For democratic values and Donald
Trump cannot coexist.
Former CIA Director
John Brennan, now has learned
That when it comes to silencing critics,
Trump will leave no stone unturned.
After hearing Brennan's critical
Words, the angry Trump was stewing.
Bam! He revoked Brennan's security
Clearance despite no wrongdoing.
The crazed, vindictive leader called
John Brennan's behavior "erratic."
Muzzling the freedom of speech, Trump's
Becoming more autocratic.
The office of the presidency
Has never, ever been sullied so.
This vicious attack on our First Amendment
Rights is a terrible blow.
Trump accused Brennan of making
"Baseless charges." Real translation:
Brennan didn't hail Trump
With sycophantic adoration.
On Trump's list are others who
Might lose clearances as well.
Here his lack of integrity
And pettiness have no parallel.
Another motive for Trump's action
Is more diabolical yet:
He wants to strip the power away
From all people who might be a threat
Because of their connection to
The Russia probe. That makes sense.
As more dots are being connected,
The situation is growing tense.
While servile Republicans in Congress
Defend their despotic president,
Let Brennan's powerful words
Resound: "I will not relent."
-by Bob B (8-16-18)
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
Hello, how are you?
I don’t care. My name’s Bruce.
Where’d you get your tattoo?
Now you’re smiling, aren’t you...
Oh you’re not? You’re so rude.
You’ve got a real ****** attitude!
Where’s your manager? Move!
I’m sorry sir-
What seems to be the issue?
Your cashier at register 2.
She doesn’t smile. She’s just rude.
I am so sorry about her. What can I do?
Fire her is what you need to do!
I’m sorry about the wait ma’am,
How can I help you?
Oh yes, hi, my names LuLu.
That last guy was nasty to you.
You deserve better, you do.
Oh it’s no problem-
Nice people like you make me love what I do.
What’s your date of birth, LuLu?
June 26th, 1972.
Nothing seems to be ready...
What were you expecting?
WHAT!? THERE’S NO WAY!
I CALLED IT IN YESTERDAY!
WHY DON’T YOU JUST LOOK IN THE COMPUTER!?
YOU KNOW WHAT- NEVERMIND! JUST STAY!
YOU’RE GOOD FOR NOTHING ANYWAY!
WHO KNOWS WHY YOU EVEN GET PAID?
JUST HAVE IT READY. I’LL BE BACK AT 8!
With tears in my eyes... I’ve cleared the line.
The phone’s still ringing, to no surprise.
Hello, Kaila speaking- how can I help you tonight?
I’VE BEEN ON HOLD FOR AN HOUR!
WHY!?
I apologize sir, we’re very busy Monday nights.
THAT’S NO EXCUSE. MY NAME IS MIKE.
YOU PEOPLE CALLED ABOUT MY GLIMEPERIDE.
I KNOW IT’S READY. I JUST NEED THE PRICE.
Actually, it’s not-
IT’S NOT READY!?
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE!?
Of course not sir, I-
I sigh.
Another customer steps into line.
I’ll be right with you sir!
Make it quick! I’ve got a cab outside!
How can I be at your service tonight?
I hung up on this other girl. She just wanted to fight.
Maybe you can help me. My name is Mike.
I’m out of my Glimeperide.
Oh, you see sir, your doctor prescribed
Glimeperide-
One tablet daily as needed at night.
These directions can’t be right.
WHAT, DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!
No, I-
Kaila, go on break, I will help Mike.
I just got off the phone with Dr. Brennan.
She clarified those directions.
Oh! So you can fill it then?
I’m glad someone knows what they’re doing man.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC
The year I would turn nine
Charlie Kelly threw his pint over Paul Brennan
in the opening scenes of a new Irish drama
called Fair City. The 25th Dáil was dissolved.
Ireland got its 1st lotto millionaire.
There was talk of mining for gold in Mayo
and Christy O’Connor Jnr
won the Ryder Cup for Europe.
(Years later playing Trivial Pursuit
one of the questions wanted to know:
what profession gets the Ryder Cup? —
a cousin from Carlow answered; prostitutes.)
I was growing through 3rd class
St. Brendan’s National School; Loughrea —
on the other side of Tiananmen Square
another student stood up
as the Guildford Four walked free
after 14 years innocently incarcerated.
While in Germany, a wall
that had been built to divide: separate, fell.
Pushed over by people. While Hungry, Poland
and Czechoslovakia: all said: enough.
The Russians left Afghanistan and in South Africa
Apartheid began to crumble. Pity
it was allowed to even begin.
Iran was ****** off about some book
and on Christmas Day in Romania
Mr and Mrs Ceausescu were executed.
In 1989, the Church of Ireland allowed female priests.
96 people died at Hillsborough.
Haughey was Taoiseach,
Mr. Heaney was conferred
as Professor of Poetry at Oxford
and we qualified for Italia 90.
I was 9 and the only thing I remember
about that year; I fell out of a tree
and broke my arm.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
He comes, she goes, no one every really sticks around much.
It rains, the sun bares its face, the clouds come back to steal it’s thunder.
Nothing is ever set in stone
Well, except for maybe human bones and Founding Fathers.
This is a poem I quickly threw together after I heard the line “Since when did my apartment become your watering hole of choice?” —Dan Humphery, Gossip Girl, S2:E22, 21:45-21:40. The last two lines are a play on Mount Rushmore and the setting, Founding Fathers, a bar that often appears in the hit TV Drama, Bones. In the show, Dr. Temperance Brennan, Agent Booth, and their friends often meet at FF for drinks after work. The poem is basically saying, “Nothing is certain, except alcohol and my favorite watering hole.”
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 5:45 AM UTC
(the reconvening of my mind)
It's always the extremes
that bring me back to center,
but it's the trips I take on purpose
that remind me its time to go home.
Today it was the thought of blood.
I cannot stand the sight of it,
and neither would I brave a plunge
in icy depths this time of year.
I’d rather gather sunlight
and convince myself there are
no ghost revivals,
only blood reprisals from
daddy's DNA.
I tell myself
I need to get away
to where I can pray
again, to quit giving in,
to stay and fight wars,
the black, the white,
the gray fluttering darkness that
comes out of nowhere swooping
past my ear, scaring the **** out of me
as if it never happened before
but it has, its just been a while.
So I call for a council of angels,
then prepare for the riptide
of demons that join the fun when
my cranial convention convenes.
The left against the right,
The east against the west,
The pros against the cons,
all the ups and downs,
I don’t give a **** what it is
just give me back my wars.
Give me back my reasons to live.
Give me Nietzsche
Give me Brennan Manning
Give me Sam Harris
Give me Frederick Buechner
Give me Bertrand Russell
Give me Henri Nouwen
Give me Daniel Dennett
Give me Gerald May
Give me M Scott Peck
Give me Pia Mellody
Give me Dante
Give me Jane Kenyon
Give me the Marquis de Sade
Give me Dostoyevsky
and that should just about do it.
Within these names exist
enough controversy,
enough conflicting views
on life, on love, on God,
enough heresy,
enough truth,
enough lies,
enough knowledge,
enough beauty
to keep me waging wars
inside my head until the day I die.
Give me back my wars.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Does our family speak to us on cold winter's night?
Even if there's no creek to crackle,
no stiff spines, no furry trees,
nothing but a Van Gogh room
in Somerville
and digital clocks ticking.
Does our family still speak?
Chattering away,
Background processes,
Garbled noise, garbage without
wisdom because we've lost the sophistication
to crack ancient encryption.
We hear the history,
and mimic vocalization like a song bird,
dolphin or elephant
each with converging neural circuits.
Members living the same stream?
It's easier to hack the data line,
when we've trained on same sets:
a missing wife,
black and white photos,
and a grandfather clock.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
She was a butterfly and I was a kid.
We had a kind of love that all of the gods forbid.
She had a heart so tender and placid-
the exact opposite of mine that was too rigid.
But there was something in the way she spoke;
though my walls were built sturdy, her voice managed to break through and for once, gave me hope.
But I know in my heart it won't be long before these all shall finally dissolve...
'cause time never stands still and the earth shall continue to revolve.
And who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll be left with all of the memories that we both have enjoyed.
Goodbye little butterfly, I'm going back to the void...
I know this ain't something that we can avoid.
Fly high little butterfly, I know I'm just a kid.
But I know in my heart that I love you though all of the gods forbid.
I will love you from a distance-
and cherish this heart that's so tender...so placid.
-Firenze Brennan (Florence Samson
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
Brennan. She has the brightest smile that gets you blinded by her kindness. She is patient and lovable, that the galaxies made another universe to honour for her beauty. Her sweet personality is so contagious it makes you go soft but she definitely has a witty side of her as well. She knows how to make someone laugh or smile at the right time, a considerate and admirable woman who I believe will achieve all her goals someday. I thank her for being there for me through the rough times and for the great memories that are being made each day. Though there is distance apart, she has been such an amazing friend who became a part of my life and helped turned it into a colourful and lovely one. I hope nothing but the best things for her and I hope she remembers that I am here to help with her own struggles if she ever needs it. For all I want is to help ease the stress she might feel at times. To remind her that she isn't alone in this world, that she has someone she could run to if things get rough. I am sending her lots of love and sunshine because she deserves and needs it, I hope to constantly see your beautiful bright smile in the long run.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
The dream I dreamt last night
will not fade, so real it must be true.
I was leaning against a tree,
near the shore of a great sea
vast and loud, dark but moonlit.
A shadow held my gaze, long
before me, like being followed
by the sun. The shadow was my own.
I watched it move out and away
from the tree, in the general direction
of the sea, and I felt its strong pull
so I followed.
I followed it to the water and
summoned the courage to take it
down to the bottom of it all
and soon my dream became
a dream within a dream,
and the then became the now.
The sea parted to the left
and the right and now
I am here, and in it,
walking down the middle
on dry ground without fear,
I could care less
if it collapses upon me.
I look at the walls
and feel no wonder at
their verticalness.
From the left Sam Harris says
“Its all magnetic ********
emanating from the earths core”,
while Brennan Manning speaks
to me from the right and
tells me that its God.
One side chants for God,
I can see all their faces
poking through the water wall,
while the other wall
says nothing, stoic unbelievers
confident in their disbelief.
Jesus comes through
the wall of water and stands
before me, dust at his feet,
fire in his eyes,
he puts his hands on my shoulders
and speaks:
“My prodigal son I am here.
I have always been here.
Look, there, you see the result
Of those who cease their search?
They sit in a wall of water as if
it is normal to do such things,
and though you have left me
more times than you want to be
reminded of, your leaving has always
resulted in your return, which
pleases me greatly..the more times
you doubt, and seek, and stray,
the more you are strengthened
upon your return"
Then he turns from me,
steps into the water wall
and disappears
and all is silent.
The dream is over.
Conclusion
In this everyday battle for a soul
I realize my indiscretions tend
to accelerate the tic-tocs of my existence,
While on other days, the slower days,
I lie waiting in the dark like a lonely lover
listening for the key in the lock at 3am,
alone, falling asleep in tears to wake up
in sunlight and candle wax.
*I have come to the conclusion that
I believe what I have always believed
because I have seen too much
to not believe it.*
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
I have not yet read your book,
maybe others things took,
the time, your time, from mine,
I read what you said in another
written work to your brother,
Rich Mullins.
Brennan, I know you not at all,
and after your book, I may fall,
short of understanding who you are,
but that is a measure of me or how far,
I have to go to be nearer to God.
You have written more than one book,
and the face I see when I look,
at yours is a man who wrestled with those
things of God while showing love like the Rose
of Sharon.
I will miss you though I did not know you that well at all,
except, you like Rich, were both poets, thank you for being
you. I still have your book and one day, I will, it, read.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
Maybe I'm a horseshoe
that's hanging on the wall.
Not the brightest leaf,
just the first one to fall.
I didn't even notice
when my dreams grew so small.
And I can't do it again.
I've lost all the books
I had when I was just a kid.
It's not that I don't care -
it's that I never did.
Maybe I never looked
where my childhood hid.
And I can't do it again.
I fell asleep on Broadway
and I woke up alone.
Anywhere I lay my head,
I always dream of home.
My past is writ on paper
but my heart is carved in stone.
And I can't do it again.
I went to the Moon
but my friends went to the stars.
I built myself a rocket,
but I only got to Mars.
Now I've made some mistakes
and I still bear the scars.
And I can't do it again.
My father told me,
when I was only ten,
"You can be the rose
that grows in Brennan's Glen".
But I became the briar
in a world of better men.
I can't do it again.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 9:35 AM UTC
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching ******* would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
Former CIA Director
John Brennan scathing headlines
Washington Post op-ed sharply
published critical accusations
muted excoriation slams
Commander in Chief
volcanic blatant pathological lying
spews like lava his American
foreign policy boilerplate brazenly
bastardizes by banditry blueprint,
balefully balkanizing beautiful bracketed
booming brady bunch brand,
bests best-buy buffer braking balanced
bastion, bolstered beloved benighted
bequeathed bicameral bipartisan bliss,
Baptizing bacchanalian buffoonish bombast,
betokening bobble-headed Bumstead,
barmy bartered bride bravado, bizarrely
brash brassiness, blindsiding behavior,
beetlebrowed bonehead, bafflingly baldfaced,
bankrupting, blithely bollixing,
bombastically belittling, badmouthing,
banally blasting, banana-boat baseless,
bearish blandishments, beastly boastful
boosterism, bellicosely boorish, bug-eyed,
bighearted, bigoted blathering breeding
blunderbuss bloopers, bewildering
bloodletting bellyache blight,
brazenly being bandying bellwether,
blitzing bourgeoisie balderdash,
balking but beaming barbaric
berserk ballyhoo backbiting,
backslapping backstabbing
blacklisting bromides,
besetting basic bestowed blooming,
Bobbitizing bedeviling beneficial
bulwark bereft badinage, ballistically ballooning
betrayal birthing bedlam.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
Today's Bread Today
is the slogan.
Fresh wholemeal.
Purchase on August 1st
(freeze)
consume before August 31st
(same year)
The list of ingredients is
so long and complicated,
one would need a science
degree to understand it.
(all it is missing a detonator)
But it is fresh.
"Today's Bread Today"
Well, if that is the case,
then why don’t you say
best before tomorrow?
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
I don't poem.
I just follow Brennan.
Because I love her.
And her writing.
You will too.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
I've never felt so numb
where I can't even bring myself
to type words or to rub the tears from my eyes
because you are the most important thing
I've ever held near my heart
It sickens me to know
that yesterday was the last time
I'd ever hug you
or kiss you or hold you
or laugh with you
or cry with you
because you're gone
sooner than I hoped you would leave.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
“For Ragamuffins, God's name is Mercy. We see our darkness as a prized possession because it drives us into the heart of God. Without mercy our darkness would plunge us into despair - for some, self-destruction. Time alone with God reveals the unfathomable depths of the poverty of the spirit. We are so poor that even our poverty is not our own: It belongs to the mysterium tremendum of a loving God.”
― Brennan Manning
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC