"confirmations" poems
Heed these words, write them upon the tablet of your mind for I have returned.
When you finally come to the point in your life and comprehend that the dreams with which you have been bestowed are to be used as a blueprint, you then and only then will win remarkable success in what ever calling that you adopt. You will begin to visualize things with a much greater understanding and you will experience sights stranger than you have ever seen before. You will know that these new visions are all true, for you will see that you have been given the ability to pick out and notice clusters of confirmations and on an imaginary scale. The fear of premonitions and ignoring notable occurrences by dismaying them all off as if they are just figments of your imagination is to be avoided. It is not out of random chance, the thought that things are bound to line up from time to time and for no apparent reason or that evolution had a major impact on us to evolve into begins to recognize pattern recognition, but rather, it is to be construed as if you have been blessed with the gift of foresight and you will notice that you are able to think and speak things into existence. Never again will you live with the fear of the unknown for you will know all. The truth of all things will manifest themselves and be disclosed to you in a vivid clear contrast. There will be many people who will find it extremely difficult to interpret what is being explained to them and in the process they will then start to display that they are trapped within there own gridlocked mind and be confused with just your mere presence. You will find that people who do not understand you will then try to get you to conform to what they see, ignore them. Life is but an enigma, one that is full of complex-ed riddles, when you accept to follow your dreams and with an open objective you will then have the opportunity to harness all its power and in return all the pieces of the puzzle will be spread out for you for your taking. Once you find the first piece, you then will be given the license required to take part of this phenomenon so you can complete life's grander picture found outside the ivory tower. You will know with all certainty that you are not dreaming and that what you are witnessing is not a mirage, that is until, the silver cord be loosed, after that, when death finds its way to sting and the grave can then claim its victory, welcome and accept a Re"quies'cat In Pa'ce.
As always, Welcome to the show!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Let me post a selfie
how's my hair
makeup
angle
filter
how do I look
did I get likes yet?
Let me post a status
one about how much I love my besties
another on how I learned a new lesson
now here's a photo of my breakfast
I have to comment
like
poke
post new updates
every day
becuase that's just what you do nowadays,
that's just how it goes
because we're all so afraid
if we don't keep posting
if we don't get those likes
and invites
and pokes
and fill up our messages
and notifications,
that we're going to be forgotten.
That if we don't solidify our presence
on social media
then we don't have a presence at all.
We spend so much time
trying to make other people
think we exist,
that we never end up existing at all,
not really.
We don't need all these people
and confirmations
to tell us we exist.
we already do.
If only it weren't so easy to forget that.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
aromatic coffee awakens senses
midst the gestured warmth of radiant
smiles's 'tween morning brew,
reverently paused to catch
the awe inspiring poignancy
of sunrise's exhilaration,
whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl
of captivating poetry's skillful delectation
a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,
tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness
enlightening sensibilities as it
enriches the day's appreciation
'pon the keen awareness of poets,
tempests from all niches of the world
coming together amid upheavals and serenity,
ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations
of words expressly borne, communing the
artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,
procuring special collective bonds that
only poesy can wholly dictate,
they look upon us as enigmas
rather strange breed of puzzling characters,
as this inexplicable endeavor
escapes their stifled perceptions
of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile,
we're merely cognitive passages for
experiences on common ground
in realizations of all-too-human foibles
eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude,
released deliverance of potpourri
serving up inky joy beyond expression,
intention's distinction deciphering
reflections in meditative affirmations,
breadth of unrestrained beholden visions
conjured notions of paramount significance
wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings,
beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences
wept in resolute celebrations of existence
as only a poet could discernibly translate
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
it's a surgical thing
to become so real
like the new thing, the next big thing
confirmations everywhere
tech bro's and rainbows
can't handle this season
of my life
can't wait until the rainbows
fade
can't get along with the season
next one coming next
no one to talk to
marching forth like saints
the whole world a cult to join
or not join
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
In a midnight lamentation,
the soul (suppressed) of reprobation,
wallowed in wasted conspiracies-
unjust (censored) confirmations.
My shoes (foundation) which were half on,
stained the beer (love), which was half gone,
that he camped- (devoted) so entitled,
marvelously, (masculine) so magnificently upon.
Ongoing obstacles, alluring alike,
repressed restraints depicted, despite-
ones that evaded, encompassed our love,
which freshly, faithfully, finally took-flight.
That beer (blazing) tottered so temping-
wrongfully, radiantly, reluctantly-right!
It swiveling-and-spinning, (dangling) around the axis of life,
Makes this, yet another- lamentation in the night.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 2:22 AM UTC
These roaring pains felt in my stomach ******* me to my knees
But I stand up, go back to work, cause I'm the cleaning lady
Drowning tears of failure and never to your needs
To uncles who understand and claim they will make a stand,
"Under your weight a lovely girl lives and I'm going to tell him 'bout it!"
Oh, uncle Bill, can't you see?
I've learned whiskey words make a fool out of me
I shoot the purple on the green
From racking, not knowing, just focusing
A phone call to tell me the snow is 3 deep
Spitting curse words around me like the white flakes I see
But you're just furious because I spend my money
Daddy, you don't love me like you do them
Confirmations from strangers and old family friends
Your standards too high, I never stood a chance
And here comes that pain again
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 10:03 AM UTC
Ignite!
But tame
Your flame
Within the lamp
Shedding its light
Invite, and arrange
The room, the hearth,
Lace the food with love
Cage your tears with calm
And center yourself on Him
Trust that the words will come
The hearts will open and fear
Will be displaced by truth
Careless of self offer
Effort and intent
Confirmations
Will come in time with patience
Transformation time is near
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
Promise to nominate a judge
Who will reverse previous decisions.
Relish the opportunity
To fan the flames of people's divisions.
Refuse to provide the senators
With all of the documents that they need
To allow for careful, researched judgment.
Your nominee will be guaranteed.
Be sure the person you nominate
Will have your back if things get hairy.
Agreeing that you're above the law
Is absolutely necessary.
Let ideology be
The key factor for stacking the Court.
Your starry-eyed supporters will
Give you their undying support.
Train your nominee to behave
Just like you when at a hearing.
Your base will consequently find
The person even more endearing.
If any dirt might come up,
Limit the background investigation
To make it essentially a sham.
And lie without reservation.
Persuade Republicans in Congress
To sycophantly do your bidding.
You scratch their backs; they'll scratch yours.
Works like a charm. I'm not kidding!
Belittle dissenters. People who don't
Support you, you humiliate.
Stick to this plan, for that's how you
Are going to make this country great.
-by Bob B (10-5-18)
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
Timechain - Bitcoin’s implications
Bringing better motivations
Planning now on firm foundations
Verifying confirmations
Helping us to shun temptations
Longer views - no reservations
Skipping short term complications
Better people - better nations
Starting useful conversations
Raising people’s expectations
Making needed preparations
A higher way for generations
Dec 6, 2022
Dec 6, 2022 at 9:19 AM UTC
Unread correspondence lies in despondence
Gathering dust on the shelves
Journal subscriptions of countless descriptions
Piled on top of themselves
Confirmations of blood donations
That never will be attended
Leaflets unnumbered, the walls are encumbered
Far more than was ever intended
Postcards from the tropics discussing dull topics
Like “them ****** foreigners” and rain
Parcels were ordered, were barely afforded
Never to be mentioned again
You’ve got something yourself, squeezing onto a shelf
That’s as packed as the Vatican’s coffers
But it’s weeks out of date and you’re several days late
To respond to the business it offers
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Virginity lost,
innocence stolen.
Sheets tangled,
emotions interwoven.
***** clothes,
ruffled hair.
Questions of how,
when and where.
Reminders of tomorrow,
predictors for tonight.
Confirmations of standing,
Emotions just right.
Placed bedside,
words left out.
Lust and passion,
what tonight’s about.
Morning confession,
admittance of sin.
Wishing lust to stop,
but praying it’ll never end.
Emotions dressed,
worn only during day.
Then changed at night,
seeking for new prey.
Virginity lost,
innocence stolen.
Stealing dignity,
never beholden.
A thin veil,
an attempt to cover.
Comes off at night,
under new cover.
Virginity confirmed,
finally dead.
Studies done,
in the bed.
Innocence gone,
never alive.
Veil disappeared,
ending the strive.
Bedside table,
falls apart.
Pieces found in sheets,
of an intertwined heart.
Lust and passion,
exchanged here.
Intertwined with emotions,
cries hard to overhear.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
AB:
Remembered when I was 6,
And didn't think my life would turn out this way,
Wasn't suppose to have one,
She didn't get that abortion anyway,
So I have to go through situations,
I'm not suppose to,
And every time reaching confirmation,
To people know , and talk to,
Nobody help,
But they stood on the side lines,
Fake friends and smiles,
Are limited , but please don't get out of line,
FNB:
Remembered when i was 6; didn't think my life would turn out this way.
Wasn't supposed to go through situations, but new lessons are learned each day.
Reaching confirmations, lines, fake friends, and half-hearted smiles.
Innocent kids become murderers, even pedophiles.
The good becomes limited, but please don't get out of line.
There's so much wrath and hatred, and we don't have a lot of time.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
sheets rustle with movement
his strong arm reaches across the bed
the smell of wood and sage in the air
soft skin slides across the worn washed linen
taunt muscles relax into his body
near breathless whispers in my ear
confirmations of stars in the sky
constellations and the universe
nothing in creation compares
to you and me in our bed
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:16 AM UTC
Now grows,
absorbing excess saturation,
conforming nonplussed confirmations.
Now rises in a balloon
tied to our hearts—stretching,
brimming with the gloss of life.
Now rushes from the mountain
over the great falls, into the valley,
with or without us.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
Bent on a wave
Lives to claim
From my rich tongue soars
Confirmations I want to score
A scene
A day
Sturdy hand shakes
My head is swimming and I'm able to float only on horizons
Though down beneath
Water shut off valve to the sink
Sounds of water whipping against my little girl frame and life jacket
My fathers yells
I grab the rope
Wicked laugh to echo sound scopes
I loved you as deep as the ocean goes and like a layman at the beach I will never know the ocean floor
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
For once I have known what it means to be at now and be only now.
For once I appreciated a cobweb on my face at tree level as a sign of my life.
Something that used to be so scary converted to confirmations of existence just.
Oh the fright be a torchlight and yes I have made it indeed or died.
...
Is that maybe why I feel so high sometimes?
Cannot use my eyes?
Does eating coconut help for some gravity?
My body said to do so recently.
...
but so anyway I have good news :
that ongoing heartache is gone now :)
So wipe off your care about my worrisome insomnia.
...
And guess what!
Apparently I owe my new health to your new affair!
After I rang your ‘concept of friendship’ bell,
unattended highs dropped ties deep down a steep mountain valley.
Amended a past blasphemy to praise your love only.
It's like a heart delivery after halved one's compulsory adversity.
...
and there I left you under a pine tree
observing me as if ******
Shine now you the one facing the sun at dawn
beyond that steep valley
where once we danced arm in arm
in laughter and joy and purity
but I slipped -
slipped down left
towards a darkness lit by mourners’ prayers
was that really a dream?
or have you once again saved my life?
...
so listen, listen now peacefully to the song of the stream running beneath.
Make that water sound like my spirit
and let me go back to my exile land.
...
A cow said don't worry he will be happy
Radio said don’t you forget about me
and I wept
a riverfall of farewell
but NO I cannot take you with me this time
but ditch you to purity
so call it home if you like and be me
as we have always been since eternity.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
i love late night cruises where street lights are road maps and the clicking of seat belts are signaled confirmations of undiscovered adventures. i love looking out the window and gaging speeds of trees flying past and wondering who else is in the place I'm in. i love turing on the radio and not knowing which genres of music are going to cause induced emotional thoughts and memories brought on by past lovers and significant experiences. i love winding back roads that induce stress of not knowing where to go, but only in the best kind of way. the stress of discovery and unified serenity. i love premeditated song choices set moods for the adventures we are all going to take. that talks of real things in life flow smooth and rhythmically like the turning of spinning tires on pavement coinciding with melodies of memories. i love the sound of celiphane removed from packs of cancer sticks and buying dying has never felt so satisfying. overwhelming sweetly harsh smells of gasoline and lit matches. That sometimes in these elements you think back to when you swore off ever trying these bad habits you now can't seem to kick. getting high and driving around neighborhoods looking at dream homes like built houses of cards and wondering what secrets reside inside these covered walls. i love the pattering of my heart down to my chest when i am in a automatically comfortable place iv never seen or been inside. realizations that days like these are in fact the best of your life because there is no concern for passing time in mind. in this city, where i reside, there are battered homes of love and sadness and winding roads that seem to lead to nowhere of happiness. but when i look out into those vast open fields of half rural living i couldn't think of another place i would prefer to be. that the fact there is nothing but vast land ahead and a tiny bit of sunlight sitting gently on horizons are something someone somewhere else may not ever see. makes me feel overly blessed that is pictured when i think of beauty, to me.
emily a. grande
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
Remembered when i was 6; didn't think my life would turn out this way.
Wasn't supposed to go through situations, but new lessons are learned each day.
Reaching confirmations, lines, fake friends, and half-hearted smiles.
Innocent kids become murderers, even pedophiles.
The good becomes limited, but please don't get out of line.
There's so much wrath and hatred, and we don't have a lot of time.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
Though you lose, thus becoming an intimate as a lover or friend, brother or sister, parent,
you will always lose through attrition or accident.
We know that 9/11’s are attrition and
love is always an accident, because
we reap what we sow, and never choose whom we love.
Attrition is the rain, forming
from pressure within the skies,
high and low temperatures at Armageddon:
yin and yang becoming earth’s tears.
Accident is the rain, vilifying
the evil of being from these two lessers of the skies,
love is sought but never found or found at odd places:
yin and yang becomes earth’s joy.
Thus, rain is a lie, liar, lying, saying
joy and love at the same time.
But love is not from this world. It is
not recognized, but named… “No” to the world’s belligerence.
We know love is expressed by this action, yes…
Thus, it’s not a lie. Love cannot be otherwise
or we would’ve never crucified the Savior
or our true loves for the world…
Love cannot exist naked.
It is always ready to be whipped, strangled, maimed
as Jesus or a twice victimed Iraqui,
the third world or as Salvadore Allende.*
But I love the rain despite my self.
It is within the reach of definitions
but not confirmations. So, love
like rain cannot be held hostage
by human view nor divine postage.
I love as it rains, I rain as I love.
From here, in my prayer, let my love of rain be love.
*Found in Voices of a People’s History of the United States, by Howard Zinn and Anthony Arnove, and the now canonical historical work of the United States by the same Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States: “Watergate had made both the FBI and the CIA look bad---breaking the laws they were sworn to uphold, cooperating with Nixon in his burglary jobs and illegal wiretapping. In 1975, congressional committees in the House [of Representatives] and Senate began investigations of both the FBI and CIA…It was also learned from the investigation that the CIA---with the collusion of a secret Committee of Forty headed by Henry Kissinger—had worked to ”destabilize” the Chilean government headed by Salvadore Allende , a Marxist who had been elected president in one of the rare free elections in Latin America.” (pp.554). For a more balanced view on the complicity of Kissinger and his role in U.S foreign policy, moreover his role in the death of Allende, see or read the acclaimed movie or book: The Trials Henry Kissinger.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
Glowing in the shadows
Blinded from the light
How can a left handed ******* son
Ever make it right?
Searching for perfection
And hiding when it comes..
Searching for the reasons
These shadows chose to come
Staring at relections
And glaring retrospect
Looking towards the future
Trying to forget
I guess its not important
And nor is it real
The thoughts of my predictions
And the confirmations i would feel
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Attraction
The first fall
When eyes first meet
The lingering stares
The first heartbeats
Awkward smiles
Like shy children
Feelings unexplained
Growing deep within
Infatuation
The first moves
When feelings meet
The weight of emotions
The unbearable tension
Pulling like gravity
Hoping to get closer
Wanting to go deeper
Yet far from reach
Denial
The first tests
When doubts can’t rest
The uneasy jealousy
The unnecessary confirmations
Testing out the waters
Checking the compatibility
When in reality
Needing each other furiously
Realization
The first acceptance
When nothing can be done
The fast free-fall
The great longing
Kisses addicting
Embraces nourishing
Passionate in every step
Cherishing every stolen moment
Conclusion
The first and last surrender
When everything is given
The uncontrollable throbbing
The love bursting
Heart feeling comfortable
Mind put to ease
The memories we create
Lasts an entire lifetime
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 8:09 AM UTC
Suppressed recollections
play upon the strings of my impressions,
that are fractured confirmations
of where my mind is flowing,
upwards
to the vault of all my beginnings.
There is a stalk that wonders aimlessly
within the crevasses of all that flows,
sustaining on the occasions that were
never meant to be its leaves deprived
of all worthwhile emotions.
Separate from what weaves above,
a solitary refection whispers against
the tide of the beginnings, floating with
the progressive clear thought.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
~
If I gathered all my bags
packed them lovingly and with care
folded neatly shirts and pants
taking extra precaution to carry spare undergarments
If I wrapped my toiletries in tissue paper
steam-cleaned the toothbrush
collected equal miniscule amounts of
toothpaste, shampoo, and conditioner
all medications labeled
deodorant in a special container
If I had all the reservations and plane tickets
pre-paid
my printed confirmations with my wallet and cell phone
bags shipped ahead so nothing could be misplaced
then,
would you take me to
funkytown? /
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
The indelible precision of God’s holy Word
has been fine tuned for the Human soul;
genuine application of its divine secrets
will assist us to become spiritually whole.
For the Scriptures are meant to be profitable,
and were originally encased by Jehovah’s breath.
The sacred aspirations for Man’s eternal life
are contained in principles for overcoming death.
Agnostic skeptics of circular Biblical arguments,
intentionally chose to ignore The Word’s confirmations;
meanwhile, we know that the text is open to reproof,
as we study precepts for seeking our divine connection.
For it’s only in God, that one can find completeness,
seeing that we strive to live in brotherly accord;
be trained and equipped with His divine influence
since all Scripture is… God’s inspirational word.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Tim 3:16-17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Adam, how doth thou get misled? Lost thy head to the snakes spiteful pleasures?eternally weathered!
Congenial I feel for thou, blindsided by poisonous virtue, as eve thou hast followed her nudely confirmations!
Cyanide lands thou hast brought us, death hath thou cost us, and enemies thou hast made along the way!
With god that is..
Thou were born unto bliss, and made a slithering cuticle between the slip skipped rocks..
Born amongst the loss of all thou hast taken! Was thy tree of life not good enough greedy taker?
Misfortune seems plainer when it's thy name they shout!!Thou shark made a trout, Now ethnic only to beasts who have fallen!
Didn't thou hear thy calling?
Brutalities beast!!!
Thou had a feast and turned it into darkness, thy secrets have been revealed by that fruit that thou plopped!
Plundered? Forgot, for the dragon made a home out of thou.
Gamashes thou Now needs, doth thou wear tattoos for sleeves?
Now that clothes thou must adjust?
Insurrection thou doth bow to!
Adam and eve a rotting stew!!!
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC