"diluting" poems
the scent of incense mixed with rain is diluting the redolence of missing you, but not matter how many stormy nights i spending reading and listening and trying to find contentment in silence and simplicity, i will forever see your name between every line, hear your voice in every song, feel the absence of your presence in every moment spent alone. you are with me, you are with me, you are with me. you are always with me.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
The blood vats
Stirring clotting goo
A tepid sticky stew
Crimson mess
Spilt on the floor
The hungry goblins
Gulping the pulpy gore
Plasma swimming
In spider web veins
The dripping fluid
Sticking to you
Soaking through
The stained washcloth
Swirling in the warm bath
Cloudy dispersion
Smoky mass
Dark diluting
And disappearing
Through time
And loss
So here we are
Generations of
Vampire blood
Leaching the life force
Spreading the plague
And bleeding
Life from one generation
To the next
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
I never thought about my whiteness,
other than to realize
that I’m ghost-white
and therefore
not as attractive as some
tan buxom babe.
I thought more
about my economic status:
upper middle class
with plenty
that would give me a leg up,
that I knew I’d never
lack for higher education.
It has gradually occurred to me,
though,
that even though I may have
a societal advantage
being white and all that,
I’m still a chick
and therefore have
several strikes against my success,
or at least a comparable salary.
Not to mention the load of ridiculous
expectations to be
mother, successful career woman,
housekeeper, **** star, and ******
Hooray for the Bible Belt,
where church is next door to the ***
Adult stores targeted
at hick white males.
Hooray for my mother’s
Texas family
where it’s okay for an adopted
daughter-in-law
to be gay
but nobody else is allowed
and some of them will look
down their noses at my
Indian boyfriend
and ask me why
I’m diluting
my blood with a foreigner.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
Give me some other world to sip at,
this one is diluting.
This is how we dance
A row of tombstones; economics?
Market of waste, reinvent me.
Aligned, invisible, gothic
Encased in amber necklaces
Suspended animation
I will wait for years. Frozen
for renewal.
At every chance, the prospect of lightning
calms the heart.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
It was a chance meeting, I knew not what was ahead,
random walks, conversations, coffees and smokes,
days into nights and then early mornings...
chances random and make believe,
hints, assumptions, misconceptions and conditions.
I wanted to but couldn't see behind the blur.
It was too eerie when i came out all alone,
but I could see you across the road.
You held my hand till I was safe.
You let go when I wanted to not...
Days diluting into painful night times,
actions tormenting, waves of coldness.
Through months, often shivering,
crying, running back to you.
Dejected, lonely, you'd hold me,
take away all my pain.
Sometimes, you would cause it,
the rain would howl and cry...
There was a sudden change of heart,
you wanted more sunshine than rain,
no tears, coming close again,
tongue-tied, lip-locked joys...
In a blink of an eye, you vanished.
Punishing me for sins undone.
Thorned and unloved i hold on...
the void takes up all the space...
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
something stirred and alive came forth
out of my own heart it spoke
*all creation is of equalities
sister brother relations
here is truth*
not to let it pass untested
i made an agreement
with belief
*blade of summer grass
teach me
dust speck
gold starshine
water droplet
prisms
fortuitous spider
i hear your messages*
spider moved in her sun-sparkled circle
she threw me spider kisses
but when i gave her kisses back
some voice came booming
*humanity is the golden crown
of god's achievement*
and the spirit of these words then took flight,
transversed my landscape,
crossed an ocean's width of time
and dropped under the waves
with the natural weight
its distorted truth
practices of superiority
of ********** of killing exploitation
rose from the collective--
flashed their white lightening
but struck counter--
diluting dissolving disarming
greediness and favoritism
manipulation and lies
expectation of privilege
so called divine right
a voice it came again
so that greater love
may have heard itself
*all creation is conscious
all is alive all are equal*
*none is better or worse
than another*
remember this
to practice
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
you pledge allegiance to a certain type of government
a nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens that cloud the air with smoke
that waters your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
all the while with your right hand over a heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
diluting the poppy petal red
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls
they rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you and your people
and sell fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in
they sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand
scratch that itch.
scratch that itch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
the nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and offers too much unknown for you to think
that unknown is the opposite of the sadness you know
and maybe there is happiness there
where hands are free from swollen veins that act
as puppet strings.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
#
*The finest meaning of 'Wholeness'..
Is shown most fully within the intertwining
in to the pivotally and most necessary
healing of both body and mind..
In that
the perfect expression of Spirit here on Earth
can only happen through the physical--
You "feel" the Receptives and/or the Urgings
from deep within you (your flesh wrapped spirit),
That are only brought out into the light of day (made known)
the moment your very tangible fingers touch the keyboard..
Or up close..
the tangibly-heard sound your very voice-tones,
Created by your so very tangible vocal cords-- made unique
by how deeply infused your spirit is into that
beautiful mind and body of yours..
By your ever-renewed
and continual choice to heal.
Within that beautiful union, the Sensings and Respondings
of the body bring impulses into the spirit..
touching deeper, the Core--
The "Image" of Perfect, Absolute Being
placed deeply into each and every one of us..
by the very nature of Love's Ache--
Residing within the center of this Universe..
(and all other Universes).. both known..
and those also yet to be..
..An Image placed, as to be a Plumb-line,
and also a Never-ending Cinematic placement of the View
onto (and within) the inner-wall linings
of both mind and spirit..
..Seen in greater and greater "less dimly-lit" degrees,
based solely on how far we commit ourselves along,
and in to, the healing process.
In its finest form, through healing,
the things we take in.. through feeling;
and then express back out..
from both mind, and body's untethered Unfolding,
..Becomes closer and closer
to the very Expression of God's own heart,
..Therefore smashing through, and gorgeously undoing
the ever- quenching.. ever-diluting nature of Subjectivity, itself.
Hmm..
The "taking in" and then The Tremblings, of your body's
unavoidable responses are the very thing most 'maverick loners'
like me need most from another in this world,
if we are to continue on in our mission with any kind of strength..
(along with its much desperately-needed resolve).
If, within the "taking in" process.. the beautifully feeling
Receivers such as yourself, were to be overcome
to the point of release~ all alone.. on the edge of your bed..
isn't that a very understandable and nearly unavoidable
and also so very very tangible part of the process also..
--In itself
above and outside of all human (and Heavenly) judgement?
Carry on, sweet Angel..
and so gorgeously continue to be who you are.
Those that can see.. see (and feel) most clearly.*
I see you.
#
Aug 12, 2023
Aug 12, 2023 at 8:19 PM UTC
The first leaf born from the forests seeding. Birthing
What flourished, grew here today. Each woodland had
A keeper, a life born from seed to the fruit of souls.
Animals nourished this new born, language of each
Taught, spoken winds told her of what happened
Near and far the woodland was a majestic place.
Upon a staff the first leaf flourished free floating
Energies of the forest flowed, emanated from its aura.
The winds spoke and she listened staff held in hand.
A light birthed from the sky had found ground and
Trees set ablaze in it anger, their cries heard felt, pain
As life was slowly turned to lifeless ash, she cried.
As her staff called upon elements, ground, water, air.
Each apart to platy as the stream did rise upon the
Banks water did touch her feet and the staff came down.
The vines did drop entwined in circular stance and water
Fed and rained out, quenching diluting flames anger.
The pain felt as smouldering now floating ash.
Her hand felt the orchard of blackened bark, some lost.
But in time new life would flourish where it fell, consumed
To ash before. A seed she settled where new birth given form.
She bowed to the forest for it guidance. A droplet feel from
The first leaf, a tear of sorrow for what was lost, nourishing,
Healing those not fallen bark did scar, reminders of before.
She walks among the trees, the winds talk too her, she laughs
Sometimes a joke maybe wind is funny that way, the cycle
Continues she is the guardian of first leaf, and then she walks.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
Teachers are working organs in a sick body
Constantly challenged out of our comfort
Lungs expected to pump blood
A stomach that can't break down
Hearts begged to filter water
Diluting our true purpose
Administrators cannot function without us
A body is working system
Not a conveyor belt of replaced organs
Death is known from organs going on strike
Sickness can only last so long before we pass
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
Every moment, we are wasting away-
Our poor, dejected ambitions
Float empty
Atop a sea of partially sane intentions
Kept by a god
With a pension for deceit.
Tick tock,
Crazy never comes on time-
And three sneezes mean an unsuspected
Guest. Dilapidated hours
Wear thin
As they desperately reach to cover
The long, convoluted skeleton
Of youth.
Remnants of the past prevail,
Buried deep beneath
Cedar floors and $50 graveyard slots,
In all it's half attainable glory,
Strewn out across
A marble coffin,
Like heavy dice
Waiting to tumble down
Into reality.
The old bell tower,
Cracks and screeches
Her unrequited laments
To the indifferent sky-
Every evening at 5:01.
With each hollow ring,
Age seeps through our pores,
Mixing in and diluting our dreams,
Sinking down into the deepest crevice of our
Contorted being. Tick
Tock, time can only dance if there's a rhythm:
The beating of our hearts
Sounds on, vibrating off
The hollow cavity
Which should hold something
Living. Nothing's real here,
As our insignificant lives
Race each other down the dim and slippery
Hallway that is life.
Until sooner or later,
One by one,
We all lose our footing
And fall down the rabbits hole
To meet something like
Death- the only evidence that we were ever
Alive.
Hour hands reach out from their miniature sphere:
A cyclical world full of half past ten
And white empty spaces between
Vacant numbers,
Grasping our warm
Pulsing bodies,
And pulling us closer
Towards something almost like The End-
Tick tock,
Russian Roulette is only lucky
Until it's over.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
There are locations
that do exist,
in between,
outside,
centered,
edges,
points and places.
The space in which, thoughts persist,
connecting dots
in a sense matrix,
where words can become shapes
moving concepts
in many ways.
A different kind of map
for navigating the world.
To love life like it were a cube
colored in my favorite cool blue
Reminding me of water
and loosing form
the moment upon
it coming to mind.
Your noise pollution
diluting
something of unclear
import
but gets filed under;
URGENT.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
It’s really shameful to acknowledge
the divisiveness of all denominations;
a continuing lack of understanding is…
diluting Love’s message of Salvation.
The ongoing promotion of religious brands
has not convinced or impressed the World;
the wholeness of God’s holy Word must be
embraced by everyone, as His boys and girls.
These current disagreements and hostilities
of religious debates waste our precious time;
clearly a lack of Christian unity of beliefs
blurs the position of Faith’s dividing line.
Silly tendencies to argue, keeps us unfocused
and separated from today’s task of evangelism;
Christ died to unite us in fellowship with Him
and not vying for the best speaker’s magnetism.
Faith’s intimacy really permits us to become one
with God in times of quiet reflection and prayer;
religious brands are simply counter-intuitive,
reducing our effective witness of Heaven’s flair.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
1 Cor 1:10; Rom 16:17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
I never feared the monster hiding
Sliding out from under my bed
To grab me by the head and drag me
Into some dark, dIngy vicinity.
I had the real thing to fear. We all did
And it only hid when other adults saw.
The fear would gnaw at me forever
And I felt it would never let up.
A couple of times I felt I would die
Because I tried to stop it; to cry
To beg, to wheedle, to quake.
But I could not shake her hold.
I wasn’t all that old, but I began
To plan. I did her household chores
But she wanted more; laundry,
Preparing the meals she completed.
Defeated, I knew it was no good.
I had done everything I could.
I remember it. Oh, yes. Clearly.
Nearly every scene resonates
Grates and whips me relentlessly
Just as hard, and painfully as she
Whipped us; me and my brothers
Not acting like a mother, but mad.
Not so much angry as insane.
She was the bane of our existence
With no diluting of that phrase.
And it was not a phase, it was there
When we were home, alone
With her when she indulged her rage.
To that stage when she could not stop;
Not turn back and be the caregiver.
I still shiver. I feel the belts or sticks
Stripe across my back or my legs
When, begging, I tried to stop her;
Threaten to call the cops or something
But nothing worked since Dad was a cop.
The cops or the county would come by
When a nearby neighbor called on her
But when they heard our name, they stopped
And since Dad was a cop, they dropped it
And would sit and ask us in front of her
Whether she was beating us or whatever.
Never would we rat her out because
The claws would come out when they left
And she’d heft whatever she used on us.
And fussing and crying only made it worse.
Once a nurse turned her in to the school
And some fool from the county dropped by
To write down Mom’s lies and ask us again
In front of the woman from the welfare
And we were too scared to tell the truth.
We were in the beginnings of our youth.
How could we defeat a monster that knew
Where and when we slept. What could we do?
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
i walk alone again tonight
-
together
with my thoughts
my life
a wondering wanderer
whistling but a whisper
of secret confidence
up a downtown street
-
i remind my mind again
of strong candles soaking
through powerless nights
shadowed cards flickering
quick across the carpet
by the stair
diluting gold
that is her hair
a brush of liquid silk at night
a blade of laughter
loud and clear
-
but sharp loose wind is pushing through
my paper jacket wet and torn
walk faster now
to move the blood
toward my bed
waiting and warm
away from memories
passed on
to dreamless sleep
where wonder dies
leaves forever
with her life
-
i walk alone again tonight
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
Blame the skies
for giving me the ability
to believe in infinity
in endless chances
after making mistakes
in numerous again's
Blame the seas
for instilling a sense of curiosity
that's seduced by mystery
under the pretty blue surface
Blame the stars
for granting me so many wishes
but never fulfilling my favorite ones
Blame my mind
for not having any borders
that filter what comes out of my mouth
Blame my heart
for rippling emotions that splash
that burn with spontaneity and glow with passion
Blame my dreams
for diluting my reality
with my favorite happy ending
Blame my mouth
for planting promises
on your lips that I wish
I can pinky promise forever
Blame my hands
for caressing and massaging
all the pleasures of life, the pleasures
of being natural, into that thick skin
Blame my words
for saying things
my mouth
will always
fail
to
vocalize
and finally
blame the
last moon
for always
reminding me
of you every time
it's full
anywhere
I am
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Maybe I am a runner…
Stretched out as a wet canvas,
waiting for the stroke of the brush
While drops of rain splatter slowly,
spreading me into a sea,
overflowing off the edges onto the ocean floor…
I rise up swimming,
in a pool of colors, for a breath,
a taste, a lick
Water beaded on my skin…
I am a green lizard climbing into my papaya cave,
Sticky moist and sweet
I wish I could wear all the shades of blue,
in the sea, diluting all that is not me
Onto a canvas, to believe
Blueness of eternity…running
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 5:24 PM UTC
They harass me,
They hound me,
They tease and pester and
Beleaguer me
You know what?
I don't know who I love, and that's o-kay.
Nowadays,
Society has these expectations
They want you to love
But what's love worth if you always have it?
Why do I have a problem if I'm not in love?
Why do I have a problem if
I haven't won the lottery?
Love should be something rare,
The pulchritudinous needle in the haystack,
Maybe we've got'
To take a step back;
Maybe this obsession
(With obsession)
Is just diluting love,
Turning thick red blood
Into worthless cursèd water.
When I love,
I'll scream it on the rooftops
I'll holler to the heavens
I'll thank God, I'll curse God,
I'll be running around roaring
Declarations of Love
But not now--now, I don't love.
And now, I'm fine.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Hidden dim light in the corner somewhere,
Lost in the dark shadows,
Blurred images of a recent past
Diluting into the rains.
An untamed monsoon thunders,
Shaking me from inside
The earth rattles and trembles
Still standing under the pains.
The night crawls into the morning,
And then again morning into night.
Clouds appear and disappear,
While I still look for thee…
I curl up, in disillusionment, hoping for a miracle,
For warm smiles and bear hugs to be back...
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
How long did it take her to be free?
How long did it take
For the wingless dragonfly to finally open her heart to the world
How long did it take for her to overcome Devil’s workshop
Slowly caressing her retinas
With silky daffodils and two-faced tulips
Where
Now
She dives into a glistening pool of complicated risk
Opening her atrium to the masses
Shedding incumbent teardrops
Just for that one standing ovation
That sets her free
It was then
Where pieces of plastic chains fell from demure stratosphere
Dented taps, similar to a shoeless dancer,
Setting off bass tones and low-key monotony
For she was
One cholesterol filled syllable short
To be genuine
One tearful, hyphenated lyric
Too blunt
To be embraced by their “god”
One dilapidated vowel shy
Of being honest
Her diary didn’t have enough pages torn
From emerald sanity
There were too many “Wows”,
Diluting into disingenuous shoulder pats
Her stanza pushed aside
A glorified ***** call with no call back number
Leaving messages towards empty dial tones
…
How long will it take her to be free?
Until she looks up
Knowing she already holds the key
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
the sea is calling out the clouds again,
carrying stories of sanity to the insane,
there you lie scanning the miles,
free child of beauty or a caged reptile,
washing away black memories in white water,
diluting tomorrow's fears with yesterday's laughter
-Nausher
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 2:20 PM UTC
once present,
the shadows of the not-so-forgotten
the shadow of me
we'll be used as images
to display suffering
as two animals, (nearly the same seen
from the outside)
they are tied together
arguing, like children
about why such a thing
such a painting
of my shadow on the wall
would happen
the phones will know, they will chat
speaking amongst each other
talking about the new
this and the new that
i ask what is happening
before i am next
my shadow on the wall
along with my peers
the fellow pupils
this reality is a
chorus of voices shouting at
each other saying the same things
when none of them
(if they knew the answer)
can voice the truth
as another will agree
and the next
diluting the first point
in an idea known as
disassociation.
my shadow will be on the wall
each square inch
a blot, from each round
which will enter me.
the voice of mine is just another
in a small chorus
stuck in a small room
all yelling amongst
one another.
at least i've accepted
my reality.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC
I've been lost at the gates ever since conception,
middle of a 4-stop intersection with a mouth full of questions,
muffled moans and groans sublimate my message,
diluting the essence, fragmented and pinned down
to the dissection tray, with blurred vowels and words
contrived to a sentence.
The surgeon contains the lesson beneath his
shivering hands, carried across his stuttering voice
high strung shattered memoirs, depicting conflicting
moments of clarity and calamity, shaking and swerving
amongst the wavelengths, searching for an ear to rest in.
Blind and burned from the giving hands of deception,
greeted by synthetic smiles and idle eyes,
confronting and critiquing confidential trials,
spoken words in tongue, gasping dry air and stale smoke
with hacks and coughs, collapsing a lung.
Solved the puzzle, 10 down and 10 across,
pervading and staining blank white cubes,
with lines and dots invading, crude man made
brain-teasing tubes, revealing the question through
the only answer: Relentless reflection.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:03 PM UTC
Excuse me while I insert
This logical probe through the frontal lobe
Of my emotional epicenter
This is a latency test....
Ratings of my muse
Are falling like waistlines at the mall
From the best of rhymes
Tacitly turned on wheels of subtlety,
To the jest of all time,
A lyrical mockumentary,
Starring Miss Pellings
And her first cousin Cliche
Excuse me while I excise
The phobias, limits and lies
Polluting my paradigm of choice,
Diluting the core of my creativity,
Muting the "i" in my voice
This latency test is now complete...
Welcome to my new Literary Bar
Raised beyond the average line;
The stars of our poetic destiny await....
~ P
(#latencytest)
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 6:51 AM UTC