"counteracts" poems
You travel between disparate realms
desperate knights, with splintered shield
and cracked helm, black rose on their white backs.
Such void, from which universes are created,
where normality is clay, and plasticity.
Granting merit to my thefts
Your ink spills in torrents,
rapidly alternating colors.
But my black and white photos
they are beautiful too!
I never have known boredom
as a man in my own home,
such is my inability to understand
how you flit and zip,
I only have two hands and two lips,
to try and transform a gift,
from the norm, while a storm sleeps
beneath every syllable.
Countless bodies, devoid of mind
until swooping in they come,
it is not enough that I possess true feelings.
It must be the purity within my tainted stanzas
that counteracts the inadequacy of the volume.
Or some subliminal, or sublingual amplifying agent
or reality distortion involved,
which brings shapeshifting angels
gliding by, leaving tokens of bone carvings,
and charcoal drawings of what I choose to hide,
but simply cannot.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
your gratuity
is not sincere
if it is balanced as a pendulum.
the anticipation of return
counteracts
the authenticity
of generosity.
it is acceptance that brings humility-
acceptance that a gift
is not equal
to inherent necessity for reward.
you cannot define "gracious"
while using the words
"owed"
or
"deserved."
allow every inch of your heart
to be a gift.
to be opened
received
and valued
for it is not in balance
that we show love-
but in the counterbalanced abnormality
of sharing.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
The true virtue's chaos.
Chaos is a fascinating state,
Even better, as a state, chaos is everything.
A glimpse of hope that human solves the chaos,
but then it's gone...
You can't control and it feels exhausting.
Feeling of losing control, humanity tries to solve chaos,
Create an order.
Obviously not possible, it leaves a negative feeling.
Inner squeezing as if you got pulled by a strange hand into a
dark abyss.
It shackles ,your spirit, squashes everything out of your
pinches your bones till you hate it but then.
The only notion, admit. The only alternative, love the chaos.
Humanity tries to make and keep everything in boundaries.
These are fruits. These are vegetables.
Gas ***** up in the sky are stars.
They are students and the audult people
on the right side are teacher.
In the the end they are citizen,
human, animal, creature,
energy maybe an assemblage of molecules, atoms.
But when a new thing comes that does not fit in,
A new boundary will be created and more and more...
Humanity can't control that anymore, too many.
An apple is a fruit, honey is an artisan good, not for me...
The counteracts against chaos creates even greater chaos!
I love, but sometimes my darling makes people drive made,
Humanity is not ready to face the chaos in another way.
Chaos creates disorientation and orientation.
My inner me donned to a shackle, slowly squeezed, and
sag confusingly in nothing but everything.
A vessel made out of clay with a rough surface and a crumbling facade.
A powerful stream of happiness embraces every servant of chaos.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
I’ve watched the western coast decline in pounding surf and howling gale
I’ve noticed how the rising tides encroach, to day by day impale,
The crumbling cliffs, the drifting sand, the ever creeping surging sea,
The violence of increasing storms…. and how it all impacts on me.
The polar ice in melting sheets cascades into high warming seas
Islands in Pacific sun now inundate with cruel ease.
Swathes of forest in Brazil encroached by axe and palm oil gain
Climatic balance counteracts to guarantee tomorrows pain.
The ocean strewn with plastic waste, choked in tides of human ****
Churning chimneys bellow forth across the blue globe, poisoning it.
Coal’s contaminants are burning holes across the crystal sky
And leaking nuclear waste contributes now… to killing you and I.
Wealth and politicians howl abuse at they who caution loud
Climate change, they disavow, is but a ploy to woo the crowd,
**** the future for the now” is the mantra held by they
Who wield the club to rule the roost and pocket spoils themselves….today!
Overwealmed by monstrous change, management relinquish charge,
Service and supply collapse with climatic refugee collage.
Hurricane and wildfire spread in league with rising seas
Of course the leaders wring their hands and call on God to please, .....appease?
A vision of this shrunken earth with coastlines vastly higher now
With cities drowned, Atlantis like, where millions, dispossessed, do prowl,
Where law and order, gone, is now replaced by desperate **** and take,
Where the rich and famous bastion arms behind their futile walls of hate.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls...It tolls for thee
M.
30 July 2019
New Zealand
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 8:44 PM UTC
I was a mason and am meant for daily wages,
With me are helpers, young, old, men and women,
And we are the builders, but we do not own the building.
Yet, we own the building till the last patch of the masonry.
We sleep in the storey; dry our clothes, cook our food;
We scatter our belongings and we rule the building a while.
People think we’re just masons, but we’re the kings of the construction.
They say it’s their home or shop to make money for their ‘statuses,
But who is the owner of the property,
And no one on earth is the owner of anything.
On morning we brush our teeth; clean our bowels;
We clean our body; we fill our bowels;
And we take our tools to break and cement the walls.
The sun sets that we shall crawl to our beds,
And our body twisted to stretch out from pain.
Every day we the kings till the last patch of our work,
And no one questions our stay under the roof.
We shall permit even the ‘owner’ of the roof.
We become ‘untouchable’ after our last stroke.
We make them ‘comfortable’ for their stay with our sweat,
And they threw coins at our sweat.
Yet we have not lost our kingship, for we shall regain it
When we’re called for another construction.
We’re happy with our kingship ‘cause we are kings of many homes,
But they ‘own’ a bit of the land.
None on earth is the owner of the land,
For HE Who hath created it is its Owner,
And we’re HIS tenants staying a while,
And we play gimmicks to mimic the outrageous traitor,
And the traitor is the law-breaker, who counteracts the Creator,
But in vain he brandishes his sword against the Mighty.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:34 AM UTC
Maybe
If I buy new sheets
I'll have an easier time forgetting you
And your shifting eyes
All morning sun and maroon.
I had better get a new color too
Just not blue...
That was the one before you
With the thin hair and half lies
And winter city lights.
And before that I like to remember nothing besides the yellow daisies on a peachy sunrise of my youth,
But the silky stitches will forever hold
Their petals;
White centered with a splintering,
Tainted innocence;
A pasty white puddle of
Bodies too young-
Caught in the riptide of our
Childhood storms
And a desire for adulthood
Or something seemingly more....
Stable.
Details will only cause us to once again derail
so I must insist you don't question this.
I've been going out of my way so long
Trying to wrap up my Saran facade.
Now every interaction
Feels wrong
And rubs me raw.
My plastic skin is wearing thin
And I might melt against the heat
Of the confrontational defeat
That I suppose ...
We all just get used to.
I keep tripping over perceptions
Strewn across a convex looking-glass
Of stereotypes and slurs that shaped my past;
And I suppose
Made a lasting impression
Rooted deep enough
to now be the
Instigator of my regression
And unrelated, runaway thoughts
That seem to always get deeper
On accident.
Everything will become a hazy memory
And glob into two word phrases
Of the forced politeness
That accompanies the acknowledgement
Of a past regret-
Still freshly gawky
As a transitional stranger;
I am inquiring
In an attempt to find an explanation for this untold something
That remains unseen
Until we're too disheveled
To distinguish it from a
A misplaced dream or idea.
Relativity counteracts the sheen
And perspective is everything,
But I feel myself slipping away
Into a despondent complacency.
I left all my linens in places
I no longer cared to be.
Yeah,
Maybe new sheets are what I need.
C.e.M 12.23.14
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
I know you, you know me
We are one and the same
So how do you fight yourself
When it's a never-ending game?
Everything I do,
He counteracts as I expect
And every dark, insidious move he makes
Is a struggle to reject
When I was always told
That I'm not good enough
As a young kid I handled it well
I just shrugged it off
So when did opinions start mattering?
When did I become so influenced?
Was it opportunity, coincidence
Or some other, unknown incident?
How I've battled for so long
I guess remains an enigma
Even to the one in concern
Raises a puzzling air, a stigma
Myself, my misery, a mystery
Decipher it if you can
For the nine years I've tried so hard
Yet I still don't understand
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
Going my own selfish way,
based on the ignorance
of my false understanding,
leads directly to my downfall.
For chronic indecision
counteracts God's divine help,
as I traverse the narrow path -
Walking boldly and tall.
My Salvation is not achieved
by what I do or go through -
For I'm mindful of His Guidance
to accomplish a role that is small.
I desire to live a life of Faith
that is visible for any to see;
as I'm strolling in this spiritual journey,
I look to join others on this global ball.
Author Note:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2009, All rights reserved.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 8:30 AM UTC
I.
I look both ways when crossing the street
even if the light is green and it's 3 am.
I sleep with a light on and my door locked,
though I know the danger of locking the door
counteracts the safety of the light.
I don't drink, even in trusted company
and I definitely don't let it bother me that I'm missing out.
I've learned from other's mistakes.
II.
I cry when scolded by authority figures,
but not when I've been betrayed.
I never go to sleep on time
especially when I really should.
I say everything on impulse
and shut down when faced with anything I don't like.
I don't learn from my own mistakes.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
The world is full of clatter and chatter
An inspiration killer
To those trying to make it better
Rackets instigated by the media
Minds are floating oxygenless
mid air
how I dream of a noiseless world!
The internet's gutter
Suffocates innovation and originality
Surfers floating in a sea of pseudointellectualism
Infecting each other
Man's worst fear has come true
confusion
Media addiction and inability to listen
Listen to one's own thoughts
Phones buzzing with tweets
Celebrity and cat videos
4000 texts a month for a teenage girl
Leaves her no time for self reflection
The world's charter and clatter
Counteracts education
Logic extrapolation
Projects loss of identity
and susceptibility
To mob psychology
Lets take a vacation
Away from the clatter
Embrace silence
Meditate or say a prayer
And seek inspiration
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
How heavy are these words unspoken:
It's almost as if I disregarded
All the weight of the world
Already on my hollowed shoulders
I've found my new hold of home
And despite a pulsing contentment that makes more than sense,
I'm still catching my muffled thoughts
Request your attention;
It's that kind of imagining
That feeds off tunnel vision
And brief but meaningful exchanges
It's that kind of
"Where have you been all my life
and why can't you be a part of it now?"
That performs like automatic transmission
And interprets a second of a glance
As a spark of a chance.
The damage is done, I suppose
Nothing could really burn worse
Than what the flames have already touched
You have your ice princess
With her glistening curls
And bright, beautiful eyes
To cool you down when
Your temper begins to scorch
...
And it isn't me.
How heavy are these words unspoken:
It's almost as if I had disregarded
Any pinch of this mysterious mess that is romance
Counteracts
My sturdy, broad, broad shoulders
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
Gravity counteracts me in a way I can't explain —
It's like driving through a haze
Or trying to catch rain
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Painful memories always remind-
They cower over your head, patiently waiting..
In a moment of surprise, you don't expect them.
Its when you aren't prepared, that's when they attack.
Taunting you and tempting you, they want you to be crushed.
You keep wondering why you were so naive-
Again and again.....
Listless burning counteracts all those tear filled memories
As you drift off to your next living nightmare,
The memories darken like a street lamp
Flickering in the pitch black night.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
I am trying my best
as are you
and even though I say I am trying my best
and still fail- does not mean I am a hypocrite
it just means I failed. So please,
cut me some slack
let's stop tearing each others' throats out
a moral lapse or two is not reason to turn on each other
the world is hard for both of us
and you are not superior because what you say and what you do is in alignment
if what you say is 'I am a murderer' and what you do is ****** then
'at least she's honest' is not the right response- they deserve
no credit for the truthfulness of the fact,
but only credit for what they have done- the good or the evil
though I say I have goals and I do not reach them,
at least I have goals, and at least I am mostly good,
the difference between who I say I am and who I am
is not so big of a fault that it counteracts everything good about me
for the good stands alone- the goals may not match, but
they drive me towards being more good
and does that not make them good in themselves?
I am trying my best
please, please, please
just let me,
because you do the same thing-
and setting low goals for yourself does not mean that you are better
because your goals are equal to your achievements
if anything, you are striving less than I
and you are in no position to judge.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
I smell perfume in the air
on your breath
in your hair
I will myself
to embody
mind and soul
fervor--full
heavy lashes
flutter faulty flicks
hang my out heart
just for kicks
your disposition
counteracts
a weak proposition
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
That first step is the hardest,
it's the abstract that counteracts
reality,
your ideas of real are really not mine,
mine are the flip chart
the start of the rainbow
the unicorn and her dancing show
the things we feel
what can you disprove?
remove me from the equation
and what have you got?
straight lines
shipping lanes
trains of thought that
take you to stations
that are already there,
Scot free?
yes
I got off
quite easily,
never got trapped or
stuck in the mud and
it's all good
Tomorrow is where I
thought it would be,
yesterday
behind me
and
today,
here to see
how your reality
really doesn't
affect me
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC