"fiascos" poems
I’ve never truly been diagnosed
But I have some troubles
Some ability to scare the living **** out of myself with my mind every single night
Can never fully sleep without something happening
Shall it be scratching, moaning, pounding on the walls
Shadows, demons, or just my own self getting me
Maybe voices or images, the thought of disasters
A nightmare, body pains, or just my own mind not wanting me to sleep
Pains in my chest that hurt worse with every beat
Or maybe the sense of a presence looking over me
I haven’t got a clue for the cause of these nighttime fiascos
but it’s something every night
The only source of release is when I turn on my phone to see a text from the person I love
And even so, though it feels like a boundaries around me, I know something is out there waiting for me to turn off the lit screen and be face to face with the terrors that keep me awake at night
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
With my hands on the back of your neck
I see the crackling raising erecting
Of your swan skin
My thoughts are gasping for breath
Going upwards in the
Filling shame
War and city battles, apartment bullets
Motel room fiascos, jigsaw pounding passion
With my body cutting you down the center like a diamond
I’m breaking you into formlessness
Jagged like clean glass
I’ll pray to your white scars
I’ll reinvent myself
Come out of the still lake
Cleanse myself in black oil
Lips like razor blades, teeth like wet wings
Innards on the pillow case, on the
Boring walls, on the idols
With your hands around my neck, your fingers in my mouth
Cheating life out of life
Taking it out on one another
Bruised peaches bleeding on the ****** scene
Dead red balloons left over, molding cake
Boot marks on the white rug
I want you puritanical, *****
We’re finished
We’re glowing
Lifted up waiting
for the floor.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 10:45 AM UTC
Children, gather round
Your second parent calls
A simple box
Wooden and metal
A face of glass
Adorned with two knobs
Take your seats
And take off your shoes--naughty!
Elbows off the table
Legs crossed, hands clasped
Black and white
Levittown
Like your mary janes and stockings
Your president birthed
And mourned
Mother’s in the kitchen
The window outside your little world
Is black and red but not white
Malcolm X, and all the rest
Standing up for their territory
Little girl, the country’s changing
Pick your daisy
We’re not crazy
The bombs come closer every day
Haven’t you seen Castro
And our fiascos by the bay?
Great Society
Social Security
Aid for the old and poor
Dinner’s ready
Mother’s specialty
Credibility on a plate
Crudely disguised
Plastic, fantastic, and uniform
Yet your mind is so hungry
That you eat it all the same
And give it no thought
The window’s widening
Its light reflected
On that glowing omniscient face
Color! Color!
Bright and vivid
Dancing at your fingertips
Brother’s gone off to Nam
Off with your skirts, your stockings,
Your mary janes,
And that awful ribbon in your hair
Burning dope
The rainbow bathes you
In its splendid glory
The birds in the sky
Like rolling thunder
Hawks tearing at the doves
****** falling to the trees
Agent Orange
Fire, death, destruction
Where’s your meal now?
Johnson stumbled,
Faith has crumbled
And so have the foundations
Of your enclosed walls
Bobby’s groovy--
No--he’s gone
And King’s dream
Escaped with his last breath
White rabbit,
Gentle rabbit
Sing your peace
The country’s ablaze
At home and away
Stand your ground
Chicago, Ohio
Each one’s a battlefield
Time for dessert--
Licking lollipops
LSD
Clear your plates
For a second course
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
Real Truth is still being sought out,
in this ever growing Age of Information;
the rise of social media has added
to the noise against spiritual institutions.
Unfortunately, ungodly behaviors continue to play out
within our society, neighborhoods and church pulpits.
We Christians must wholeheartedly repent now,
before His divine Grace, we unwittingly forfeit.
Sacred texts attest to God’s existence by faith,
while Science can only prove Him via logical sight.
Genuine and unstoppable power comes from His Word
and never by the temporary strength of human might.
Personal accountability and responsibility
can be displayed via righteous servitude;
develop your unique identity in Christ
with the character of ethical fortitude.
Consumption of the Scriptures should not be ignored
in favor of viewing biblically, inspired frescos.
Be girded on the foundation of Jehovah’s principles
and put an end to the ongoing… moral fiascos.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 6:10; Lam 3:22-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Fringed by putrescent dusk
Fingernails dig beneath graveyard wounds
Fostered by lexical warfare
Within the harrowing fiascos of tomorrow
Nothing but bated memories
Braided by skin, coffee, and cigarettes
Branded by concrete whispers
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:48 PM UTC
A woman of many fine
Words, made two sandwiches
One for Nicholas, one for Freida
On this day
A woman of many fine
Fiascos, made her last
With the drop of a plate
The turn of a ****
The oven concluded
the world had been robbed
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
Playing pool at 5am,
see the sun rise and seep
between mouthfuls
of double choc-chip cookies,
Mountain Dew cooling our throats
like antifreeze into a car.
I gather up your laughter for rainy days,
everything dripping in colours
that haven’t been christened.
Your fingerprint wriggles
form an island chain on the piano,
wet symbols, bathroom carpet
where you got out the shower
in a sky-blue towel;
I hid under the bed.
I tell you you’re messing
with an amateur,
kisses are pleasant glitches
but I’d miss and trip
through the open window.
My hands become flappy utensils
when I explain years months days
of apple cores piled up
behind wardrobes,
my portfolio of fiascos.
Faults are found like Easter eggs -
squeezed from toothpaste tubes,
top shelf of the oven.
This is a dark one here,
a miniature pill.
You only bring mugs
of youthful exuberance to the table.
A click. A shlock.
I turn my head,
the game lost
within a blizzard of minutes.
It’s OK I say,
I wanted you to win.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
click klack click klack click klack click klack
klippity clop klippity clop klippity clop
slap slip slap slip slap slip.
hello and welcome to the machine age
where pink floyd your tour guide
where human beings the laughing stock
on the supposed creature comforts
but in truth dependent on those big and little gadgets
designed by the brainchildren of past and present.
civilization at the mercy of those trappings
envisioned by wunderkinds
that propelled the masses from labor
yet now shackled to technology
far removed from simple existence of yore
when people used horse power
as their chief form of locomotion in the bustling towns
that inexorably spawned metropolises
that birthed towering skyscrapers
leading to potential fiascos by making civilization incumbent on
factories generating gewgaws in tandem with industrial waste.
survival of numerous species
(including that of man/womankind) hangs in the balance
as population explodes beyond
the capacity of planet earth to support
such a burgeoning billions fold burst of **** sapiens
filling every nook and cranny on this third rock from the sun
foisting an inconvenient gory truth
that catastrophe looms ever closer
perching all living organisms ever closer to the brink
of disaster and eventual extinction
unless dramatic measures taken to manage reproduction.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
Look around
Look how many folks entering the grounds
We got wars famine disease
Natural disasters starvation
Poison facility and mold recreations
Children are bribed to be adults and vice versa
Abnormal is considered normal
And what was normal is now adnormal
They tell us what to feel what to wear what to buy
What baked and what to fry
Blinded are they by the third eye
Their faith goes to mankind
Instead of using their own minds
Words are soft and too kind
Newspapers dumbing down linguistic
To that of a level a primate could innerstand
But too many stuck on chasing money bands
Building there conscious around fiascos and chaos
And not one thinks to toss
Out the sheer idea that
They could be controlled
By an immutable force that's inevitable
At all cost spiritual dead in a mental coffin too often
People drift day to day repeating what some reporters say
There so dim-witted that they honestly believe that they are
Using their own minds
When indeed there just interpreting what message they just conveyed your obeyed
A savage to the powers that
Willfully destroy homes and family
See they want us to rant and rave with each other over color
Sister mother or brother
And smother
Ourselves with guilt shame and suffering
And thanks to a country where we always want
Instead of need its been corrupted since the planted seed
Of fascism that is
A small lucrative family of about 12 to 300 people
Run this fashion show
A live rodeo
So go ahead and book for the the light show
Of the red white and blue
Dancing colors
Wake up folks it's all a game
Pushing for success for what?
You come into this world with nothing
And you leave with nothing
So what the point of having something
When you literally have nothing
Wanting a dream house? Car ? Yaht? Island? Acres?
What is it all for lives are at stake
Poor fight the poor
And the rich lubricate the rich
And they give us their people
So they give us an illusion
That we're included which we aren't
Red And blue
Aye evil and good
Which side do you choose ?
Or do you ignore and follow your own destiny will and conscious?
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
Memories Toy Chest
Something most hold in common is the joy from a child's first toy
Marking time with bounces of a ball or combing a dolls hair, simple samples when life was still fair
Teddy bear on a tricycle towing a red wagon became a daily highlight for freckled faced boy
Sand box unifies the block, Tonka trucks take over, shovel & pail never fail, forming fundamental liaisons, fresh friends unknown to despair
Christmas tree bearing notions, free fodder for the toddler, tiny top fascinating for a tot older sibling needs a little more to not be a bore, each gift reveals internal joy
Crayons and coloring books fill a nook, many images and glimpses of our past, memories now memoirs, all of life's offerings nothing can compare
Focused on fledgling fiascos too more amorous teen things, flash before a crash, skateboard or Schwinn California cruiser either a bruiser when seeking search and destroy
Army men cheap to begin before g.i. Joe or barbies, cap gun for fun, noise for playing on the run, never standing still long enough to stare
Grandmas egg money the best for a stash of cash, bought candy or unknown present I would never resent, she was a kid at heart acting old merely her decoy
Glimpse through a child eyes, thought or flashback of childhood and early life, fishing pole or frisbee a cheap fee for a lifetime memory, simple sample of how we care
Lifes diary often leaves out those trifles that came for free, when we never feared a future unknown, nothing lost when not seen, a minds toy chest held close to the vest the items enclosed permanent parts of our history R.C.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
Since I was a baby, I wore the crown of hades, no if ands or maybes,
Prior thoughts of killers lately, my enemies always set, a vision for me to see,
Sight em ahead, so many envious of bread, love of wars, got us by the heads,
Free money only for dummies, they being set up by the scummies,
Mastermind of commies, yo I watch every thing around me, like cream,
But it dont rule me, I just sit back like Poseidon guarding the seas,
My flows astronomical, disaster make tapes artificial, yall too superficial,
I spit the real Yo, no beats or an instrumental, some say I'm detrimental,
Cuz I speak truth, to the youths mental, verbal criminal, am I,
I graze the skies, too fast new flash, I got a **** from a darkness clash,
Along with lightening, hands open like Raiden, another flawless victory,
And even if I die, yall will mourn me, in this youtube commentary,
A true visionary, twin Nastradmous, hypotnized by death and dramas,
Theatre of the war, see what we in for, see souls rotting to the very core,
They saying they ain't feeling me, but would feel me, if I was dead see,
Uh, that's how fake society, really is they got our kids, living in the grids,
Of they matrix, they staying playing tricks, inside ya mind, look behind,
So you can see what's ahead of you, only a few, understand what I do,
Some won't, cuz they caught up in the show, modern day fiascos,
I lasso my foes, everyday welcome to the ghetto rodeo, kick down the door,
Of the industry, I shoot til they oozing, out the pores, as I polish the floor,
With my sins, I see the faded djinns, taking me in, and I ain't even cashin,
In yet, no matter the plot or a threat, I stand for wisdom, so I'll never regret,
Forget what, these other brothers sayin, I'm tryna level up my saiyan,
Understand what I'm saying, I'm Goku once I focus, on what I wanna go through,
No fear in my life, I'd ratha die a man, than a cowards, a million showered,
Tryna keep dirt off their name, it's a shame, never swelled on fortune, and fame
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC