"generating" poems
Heat beats down upon the street
Birds too hot to fly,
Blistered sand you cannot stand
Drenched with sweat am I.
Cows collect in shadow deep
Panting sheep hang head,
Goshawk flies in cobalt skies
Hills of grass stand dead.
Whisp of smoke, a puff of breeze
Sirens scream in air,
Running men in squads of ten
Emerge from everywhere.
Now the rising wind takes charge
Runs with leaping flame
Into crown of eucalypts
To rage across the plain.
Too late the tenders hoses pour,
Too late the fireman’s shout
Inferno hot has run amok
And all control a rout.
Generating mighty winds
The fire charges forth
Spiralling in furnace air
To incinerate for sport.
Vanquished men exhausted stand
Watch with useless eyes,
As raging flames consume their truck,
Inside a good mate dies.
A live thing in the burnished night
It writhes and spirals high
Across the flaring treetops
Hot, red smoke fills the sky.
As sudden as it starts, it stops
A wind change in the air.
Ravaged forest stark and black
Hot ashes everywhere.
Hills of cinders smoking now
Stock in death’s repair,
Homesteads rendered charcoal like
Farmers in despair.
A silence in the ravaged hills
Birdless in the sky,
Bushfire horror, death and smoke
Enough to make you cry.
Marshalg
In support of my Australian brethren and their torched nation.
30 January 2013
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Mitochondria generating the necessary energy
to graze my fingertips across your zygomatic arch.
Feeling your breath quicken to almost hyperventilation
as desire fills your eyes. Blood pounding through your heart
containing red cells, white cells, fibrin, plasma, life-giving oxygen.
I brush hair behind your ear and feel a quadrigeminal leap
in the need to hold you close.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 6:26 AM UTC
Kisses up and down your body
Lay cuddle start to feel naughty
Game of footsie under sheets
Probing strobing generating heat
Take my finger direct me to the good
Sun rising like my morning wood
Juices flow feel the wet
Anticipate pounding you're about to get
In your thighs staring deep in eyes
Inhibitions fly
Everything we try
Comfort there is no fear
Nibble whisper in your ear
Lap explosion need no muzzle
Sip it slow then take a big guzzle
Pulsating pleasure fills your body
Consistent pace no longer spotty
Caressing scars with healing bars
Pen will stroke till seeing stars
Let us strum like a song that's sung
Twisted like our tangled tongues
We are honey bees
Smoking trees
Tantric trigger squeezed..
Buck my shot
Push to last drop
Contorting from ******** shock
Rub G spot get three wishes
Only need one its your Morning Kisses..
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Outside two squirrels foraging
Inside one hundred and one keys tapping
Three buttons clicking and one wheel spinning
Eight hours a day sitting badly
In an ergonomic desk chair
Soft fingers tap on plastic and glass
Weak muscle memory of calluses and splinters
And sunburn blisters from another life
Outside the old prairie wind howls like a phantom
Lost in urban canyons buffets the panes
Drives the torrents of freezing rain
Hard droplets tap on metal and glass
While inside our high-rise terrariums we sit
Generating transient value that flits
Up into the clouds till whenever
You tap plastic to trade your invisible worth
For a hot meal in a disposable bowl
Ponder and sip in another life you could be
Spending all day in the freezing rain
Hunting squirrels for soup
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
*"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."*
Shall I compare thee...
...to the Iguazú Falls River, where legend serves that a serpent; Boi, demanded a sacrifice each year of a young female, and the day two lovers; Tarobá and his beautiful maid Naipí, took to escape, and in revenge of such an act, Boi exuded such anger that he parted the river, thus forming the Iguazú Falls, splitting the river and condemning to two lovers to the falls.
or
...to Cristo Redentor; Christ the Redeemer, the Art Deco statue, protecting and looking over the city of Rio de Janeiro, to whom in all its glory cannot escape the force of nature, struck by lightning, causing damage irreplaceable.
or
…to The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, hundreds of metres into the sky, a place that to this day is unknown, myth being that King Nebuchadnezzar recreated the homeland of his precious wife Amyitis, who was deeply depressed and homesick, allowing her to find comfort and happiness.
or
…the Taj Mahal, of Pradesh, constructed using marble by the emperor Shah Jahan, in loving memory of his third wife; Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of Muslim art, a calligraphy written Great Gate reading; "O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you.
or
…the Temple of Artemis; Istambul, on sacred land in honour of the Greek goddess Artemis, the most apotheosized of Greek deities, the supposed daughter of Zeus and Leto, the temple also known as Diana, one of the goddesses who vouched never to marry; alongside Minerva and Vesta.
or
… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, of the Persian Empire, whereby Mausolus ornamented four sculptures created in relief for his wife (and also his sister); Artemisia II of Caria, generating an above ground tomb that would become to be listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
But of all,
I compare thee to the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sexuality; Aphrodite
arising from the sea, floating ashore on a shell;
Venus rising from the sea,
a lover of many,
later depicted as a painting of the Birth of Venus,
by the sufferer of unrequited love; Botticelli,
using his muse Simonetta Vespucci as a model.
© Sia Jane
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Women Rising: Five Predictions for Women in the 2012 Workplace
In Society 3.0, Dr. Wilen-Daugenti presents a compelling case for how women’s prospects in business are on the rise. Based on her research at Apollo Research Institute, she predicts that in 2012, women in the workplace will reach the following milestones:
1. More women will become leaders in the workplace.
In 2012, 18 women will be running Fortune 500 companies—the highest number yet. This confirms a rising trend of women’s corporate leadership. The U.S. Government Accountability Office reported that in 2009, 40% of managers in the workforce were women. In 2010, women held 15.7% of board seats at Fortune 500 companies.
2. Women-owned firms will drive job creation and employment.
Women business owners employ 35% more people than all the Fortune 500 companies combined. Women own 10.1 million U.S. firms, employing more than 13 million people and generating $1.9 trillion in sales as of 2008.
3. Women will obtain higher education in greater numbers.
Women now earn more degrees than men, with graduates from all ethnic, racial, and socioeconomic groups racing past men in rates of completing programs of study. Women aged 25 to 34 are more likely to have a college degree and are more likely than men to go to graduate school. By 2012, women are expected to earn 60% of bachelor’s degrees, 63% of master’s degrees, and 54% of doctoral and professional degrees.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
Breathed in the breath of the saviour,
To richen the soul of the poor.
I puffed out a portal to the cloud kingdom.
Holding onto the scales of a dragon.
The earth beneath my feet begun to shrink,
And the sky above my head started to sink.
I caught a glimpse of what was behind the cloud,
And was dropped from a million feet high down to the ground.
I met an angel with a kick,
Wanted by the government.
Eyes as wide as rabbit holes,
As bright as a solar moon.
Black stars in between white spaces,
Generating a reluctant mold.
There’s golden flakes in its hair,
Its string chokes my throat.
I thought it was my angel,
Turns out it was fool’s gold.
When the fog sets,
And everything fades away;
I turn off my car headlights,
And stear into the grey.
I like to hide in the clouds,
They make me so happy;
But when I come back down,
They make me so sad.
Digging in my grave to find heaven,
Inhaling the smoke of another dragon.
I think I might have found my God.
I’m melting in his eternal sunshine.
Smoked the crumbled image of his face,
It turned my tears into wine.
The earth's my grave,
The sky's my cradle.
Unearthing my new low,
To find the highest place one can go.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 4:04 AM UTC
Thought's wander not definitions random words and my mind associations..
ALWAYS
Move forward feel emotion ride life's waves explore all oceans
BALANCE
Most people don't have it can't figure out how to counteract bad habits.
CHANGE
Continuous you can gage growth without age
DESTINY
Predetermined path sure to feel its wrath
EVOLVE
Everything is an evolution study patterns find solutions.
FOCUS
Reality smokes us takes our hopes constantly chokes us.
GREATNESS
Never will be achieved we run in circles feeding greed.
HAPPINESS
We feel it unnecessary conflict will **** it.
INTERACTION
Worlds collide theater of thought, share knowledge all can be taught.
JOY
Give to planet, heart is a diamond made up of fossilized granite.
KARMA
Never a mystery all a part of our history.
LIES
We live it everyday, leaders speak them with every other word they say.
MOMENTS
A snapshot of time can be felt in spirit and mind.
NATURE
Outside or within an untamed force that is invisible like the wind.
OPPORTUNITY
Comes knocking all the time never to those who close their mind.
PATIENCE
We wait for saviors like we wait for coffee, we rush to our deaths while the clock is tick tocking.
QUESTIONS
Bring them on answers only come to a mind that's strong.
REVOLUTION
A sibling to evolution, born from desire to find the ultimate solution.
STABLE
Not all are able put your cards on the table.
TIME
A measurement of a period, tied to our existence which is myriad.
UNIVERSAL
sounds huge but isn't, puts us all together maybe we can win it.
VISION
we must gain sight to see ,the patterns of history are blatent in stalling humanity.
WEAKNESS
in everyones soul, it's when you move forward strength arrives and you pay the toll.
XENOPHOBIA
what's new is strange addition will always equal change.
YESTERDAY
has passed a new day begins, forgive yourself today for yesterday's sins.
ZOMBIES
I see many of them everyday, walking through life with nothing good to say.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
I know I've been there,
I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality
Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images
Of the limitlessness of death
Coupled with elusive, Luciferian harm which will befall us all
Who subsist on the manipulated reality of the hyperspace information field
But one day, enlivened by the festivities of Shakori Hills
And the fungal spirits who awoke beside us
I walked the irreversible pathway through oblivion
Facing cruel destruction and terror
For a horrifying passage across Styx into eternity
And emerged within a crowd of mollusks dancing to the waves of a musical sea
All time suspended in the impossibly drawn-out ****** of the
Archetypal wizardry of rhythm,
The swirling clumps of faces in
Unshakable ecstasy
And seemingly responding to the wild currents of my conscious thought;
A longing for human touch drew the others closer and closer around me
Till they began brushing against me
Bumping into me,
The flow of the crowd saw its axis at my psychic emanation
As once more the last song of all time began with thunderous energy and applause.
I escaped the arresting confines of the crowd
By willing them aside, wearing, as I suddenly became aware, the shoes of Moses
And seeing my muddy feet upon the sands of Egypt
But I yet had no understanding
Of the nature of the garden of earthly delights
Into which I had fallen,
And fear began to envelop me,
Producing law enforcement officials hawklike swooping in to limit my power.
I had but to let go of my acceptance of their power over me to transcend them
But fear tethered me to reality,
Even as I saw about me a Dharmic mandala
Of my past present and future,
Generating inexplicable archetypes around me in a manner profoundly defiant
Of rational logic.
Synchronicity compounded upon me
As the Christos within me
Brought rain down upon us
Forcing us together and leaving me in dumbfounded reverie
Of all that had transpired to bring this moment forth
What had seemed to be the end of history was in fact
The awakening of a new rebirth
The first moment of coming to be
The union of past, present and future
As the reassuring smiles of my trustworthy disciples gently allowed me passage back into a rational existence
I beamed in utter gratitude for the eternal life which Christ afforded us.
Chaos had subsided back into normalcy
But still winked at me
In telepathic coincidence.
My soul has begun to realize that it resides in all things
Soon they are to be reintegrated
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
Hesitations grips me
Sometimes with a soft gentle squeeze and sometimes with an iron fist
That split second where you see that girl with whimsical hair and a playful smile and your body is screaming at the top of its lungs “GO AFTER HER YOU FOOL!!!” while your brain mulls over the endless stream of stressful situations
I can hear Robin Williams calling out to me “Let me hear your YAWP!” and I’m shaking, quivering, rattling, generating the vocal ferocity of a lion! And all that comes out is a whimpering “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
A harmless compliment to brighten someone’s day, no harm done, just a quick simple “I like your pants” a smile and I’m on my way
Simple! Wrong!
That flickering candle of pleasantries is cut short by a swiftly shutting window of opportunity
The breeze not hesitating to extinguish its light
Hesitation grips me
How many moments must I suffer paralyzed lips before my can of complimentary worms is opened?
How many lovely strangers will continue to mill about their days in unblissful ignorance of my enjoyment of their simple, subtle or overt characteristics?
This hesitation grips me!
It shackles me and holds the key in front of my face and all it requires is one real Yawp! The mustering has begun! That key is my freedom of hesitant chains! Just! One! Yawp! I think I can I think I can I think I can! Just! One! Yawp! “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
Your borders
are mending fences
And false fiction
is the elevated
runoff of the headwaters
of your dreams
And the people black framed
in the cages
of the eternal moment's collapse
Will gather generating
candle light wisdom
of those
who deny existence
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
What is reality?
Is it the cool embrace of winters chilling winds?
Or is it the tingle you get while walking in the sun on a summers afternoon?
What is reality?
Is it the smell of fresh apple pie cooling on grandmas windowsill?
Or is it the sharp smell of perfume on the girl sitting next to you?
What is reality?
Is it a beautiful sunset, sending ribbons of color across the ocean?
Or is it the New York City skyline shining like a beacon through a thick layer of smog?
What is reality?
Is it made up of everything that we can see, smell, and touch?
Or is it made up of the dreams that we are constantly generating inside of our heads?
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
We wreck havoc on one another in the name of love. We leave inoperable scars upon each others souls and leave one another strangled for air, plundered of all vitals. We call this love, and we recycle these events, these feelings onto the next person without realizing that we are generating and regenerating feeble souls, stripped of their ability to love. What a tragedy love has become.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
My eyes were beaming out,
onto the gloomy streets.
Fog was lurking in.
It adhered to my skin.
As the dew latched on,
after only seconds,
I slowly became damp.
Contributing to my silky skin.
Dusting my cheeks,
generating rosiness on my surface.
Glazing over my hair,
gluing each strand to another.
Coating my hands,
nipping at my fingertips
The haze in the back of my head,
It kept getting heavier.
Digging my fingernails into my head.
Tugging on each strand,
between my scalp and jagged fingernail.
Clawing as my nails trailed down my skull.
Blood dripping,
Streaming,
Creating tidal waves.
Fog was sprouting in my essence
The fog began to maneuver on me.
Blanketing over my body,
weighing down my soul,
overloading my carcass.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
Your beauty is unmatched
your essence unscathed
you could wrap me in your curls
and leave me bound for days
The thick bristles on your face
resemble a forest to discovery,
your mouth a cave to explore
lighting the way with electricity
generating from our rapport
Sweeter than a glob of icing
on the last slice of cake—
Your twisted expressions
make my chest quake
You’re a lot to take in—clean cut nails
and pasty speckled skin; the
trail of hair on your belly and
your form soundly sleeping
where our motions had been
Now you are far a fields away
frolicking in colorless grass,
lost and in denial of what
you could have made last.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
On the edge of the railway
I was caught unprepared,
of whether to fight or not
of whether to give up or to give in.
I went to runaway
taking every breath that is left in me,
chasing the shadows away from my sun
pondering through these thoughts
of whether should I live or should I die?
I took the imbecile mind of a weak heart
struggling for words I cannot say,
revolution against chaotic ideas,
generating evidences of what is left,
generating evidences of what was taken away.
I stumbled on the great floor,
misled my feet on the broken rails of the railway.
I fractured my foot, the other luckily was scarred
now I have to run, but I just can’t.
Where should I put myself in this trouble
imparted on my living sense of self?
Now I have to run, but I have nowhere to go
I need to escape this extravasation of doom
as I left my heart on the coffin of his memories.
I wept right where I was trapped,
until someone offered his hand
and gently lifted me up from this pandemonium.
I turned my head up,
and saw the sincerity of heart that he possess,
whose eyes brought me to a safe haven.
I moved with him, and with him I breathe
the air of solace, the soliloquy of the imbecile.
He brought me to the sun, bequeathed it to me
and for me he chased its shadows away.
My doom is now the doomed,
as my chaos is now the chaotic,
for what was drastic is now lenient,
and that railway is now just another railway,
a quotient of my unfulfilled repose.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
and so life makes life.
the strange beauty
of pollination.
flowers allowing insects
to mediate, relegate, perpetrate
and consummate their ancient ritual,
their sacred act of reproduction.
A third party multispecies **** of sorts.
But the bees never get off.
still,
truly takes the task a touch further
than the innumerable sea animals
who mate in mass,
whole schools of fish
releasing egg and *****
anonymously
in a surging swarm of ***
generating the next generation.
and so life makes life.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
Have you heard about your hands,
how they’re the devil’s play things?
When entwined with my fingers
we cradle til numb, fine friction from
a twiddling thumb; graceful extremities
fondling every surface covering,
generating and extracting energies
With a hover they raise the dead
cells on my flesh and walk the sacred
space of nerve-endings with a trace
and trails of my racing heart
They’re smooth and soothe wounds
that can’t be spoke, knocking at
my teeth to wrestle my tongue
seducing me from the inside
Your hands are the tools
of your trade, skilled to persuade
and bade time--for it doesn’t exist
Unable to resist your palms upon me,
pockets of warmth radiating heat,
I relish in the sin of wanton skin
waiting to play with fire again
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
sometime it is
in the act of writing
that we create the sense
of what we want to say
as if the process of articulation
when we are fishing for the proper words
is generating meaning
inventing itself in its own genesis
leaving the poet amazed
sometimes even the readers
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
I have, on my computer,
two sound generating devices
which I meditate on
for healing reasons
and I am on
a Dharma network
which has photographs
of Yantras, which are those
geometrical designs
that I meditate on
for healing reasons
and I don't know
if I am healed by these things
or not
but it sure is a trip!
Aug 9, 2011
Aug 9, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
A true relationship is fluid and energy generating
Being dynamic, it should activate your highest potentials
You have forced me to realize what we had for those years was never a true relationship, or a true love
I do not solely blame myself or solely blame you for our many fails
But as far as myself goes, I know what my faults were
I often lost my sense of self the longer we were "on"
Wondering when it would end that time, I became anxious and derealization would occur randomly
I clung to you in anticipation of my heart sinking and shattering and taking my soul with it
Those feelings do not emanate from love though, do they?
No
They emanate from fear
I did love you
But then I feared you
Feared your absence, neglect, reactions, and that, is not love in any way
The trust I gave you time and time again was never held with care
Maybe you never knew just how low and broken I'd be
Maybe you did
My wisdom never let me forget that loving someone and being loved meant allowing vulnerability
I knew and know love will never be love unless you're vulnerable in some way
But my oblivious heart somehow believed giving you complete control was a part of that
Starting anew after a year or so sounded incredible
But it didn't take long before reality emerged and I found myself in the same degrading and depraving phase I have been oh so familiar with, with you
The entire meaning of this is to say I know what I had for so long was not love, but fear
And now that I don't fear you...
You're just a stranger that knows my weaknesses and none of my strengths
One that's only ever seen my lows, never my highs
And I'm ok with that
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Table salt without pleasing flavor is useless,
like a weak Christian lacking “good works”;
for the World is in need of divine examples
of how to live within the Kingdom’s framework.
There are many souls craving spiritual waters,
to have their endless abyss of thirst quenched.
Are we testifying of God’s Love to reach those
in strongholds- where they’re firmly entrenched?
Unless there are obvious and significant change
in the personal behavior of our everyday lives,
the World will have no real motivation for faith
when there’s no evidence of transcendent lives.
We’re still called to be the salt of this planet,
demonstrating victorious lives as saved brothers;
As Christians, we’re supposed to add loving flavor.
We’re responsible for generating thirst in others!
.
.
.
Author Notes
Loosely based on:
Matt 5:13; Jam 2:14-26
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Fractals make me Fractious,
Measuring the edge, Numbers on the ledge.
Fric Frac, Fractals make me Fractious.
Measuring the line, Not using sine
Fric Frac, Fractals make me Fractious.
Generating Geometry, Calculating Topography.
Fric Frac, Fractals make me Fractious.
Equations they don't rhyme, Colors between the line.
Fric Frac, Fractals make me Fractious.
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 7:44 AM UTC
I soar with the zephyrs on a daily basis
Will I ever reach the stars?
Maybe.
At the very least I can spend a day with the clouds I envy so much
and be thankful to see my kin rising to the ozone
We are a generation of generating art rather than splitting the world apart
We can find a plant called hope in a desert with no seeds
We need to add ourselves to one another and witness what higher numbers can achieve.
I mean this world isn’t just in our hands.
Its secrets are deeper, written in our palms
So I pray that when you hold one another
the truths of this world speak
whispering "Us, not I"
among other things
that make you welcome love as if it were a long, lost friend.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
I've scrapped the first
fifteen versions of a poem
I don't want to write or
maybe I want to write it but I'm
afraid I won't like it or
am I just afraid of what I might
say,
of what my subconscious will
convey?
Ink drying up like dried blood
while the blood in my veins
pulsates and my
head throbs as I try to decipher
how much of what has happened
to me is actually because
of me.
Is it me?
Are my experiences mine because
I made them so,
or did I happen to just
stumble into the darkness?
A sour mashup of
self-love and self-loathing,
it's like I have two minds intertwined
double-analyzing double helix
radioactive brain DNA
Am I great? Am I awful?
Am I even worthy of such extremes?
Where are all the adjectives to
describe me?
Can I write about it if
it changes daily?
Is it possible to know yourself perfectly and
also not at all?
Questions generating more
questions,
hypothesizing Eye
must seek before
I find.
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 12:00 AM UTC