"geologist" poems
The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some **** or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes. The rate of ooze changes?. Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with ***** practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility. The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you. Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and ***** sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications. I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin. I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always ****** me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks? Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx. Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of You’re Not Included Whiteboy White ****** Ghost ***** all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business. While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
if i thought they were dumb before,
now (after the geologist broke my heart)
i think they're
lethargic,
obtuse,
pointless,
inane,
futile
(boring as ******* hell).
i will now stay away from men in climbing boots.
so, thank you.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC
People wonder, how can Christ, be all things to everyone?
Without the proper perspective, Truth can be missed.
So carefully consider some ideas presented here,
before these spiritual concepts are mistakenly dismissed.
To the BUILDER, Christ is the Sure Foundation.
To the ARCHITECT, He is the Chief Corner Stone.
To the GEOLOGIST, He is the Rock of Ages.
To the SCULPTOR, He is the Living Stone.
To the STUDENT, Christ is the Incarnate Truth.
To the PHILOSOPHER, He is the Wisdom of God.
To the BANKER, He is the Hidden Treasure.
To the PREACHER, He is the Word of God.
To the DOCTOR, Christ is the Great Physician.
To the SERVANT, He is the Good Master.
To the THEOLOGIAN, He is the Author of our Faith.
To the EDUCATOR, He is the Great Teacher.
To the JEWELER, Christ is the Pearl of Great Price.
To the ARTIST, He is the One Altogether Lovely.
To the HORTICULTURIST, He is the True Vine.
To the FLORIST, He is the Lily of the Valley.
To the STATESMAN, Christ is the Desire of all Nations.
To the CARPENTER, He is the Eternal Door.
To the PHILANTHROPIST, He is the Unspeakable Gift.
To the LAWYER, He is the Lawgiver, Advocate and Counselor.
To the BIOLOGIST, Christ is the Life.
To the ENGINEER, He is the New and Living Way.
To the TOILER, He is the Giver of Rest.
To the SINNER, He is the Lamb Who takes all sin away.
Our Christ is a multi-faceted personality,
Who has something for everyone who comes to Him.
Therefore, we should continue to rejoice in Who He is,
by offering heart-felt praise through songs and hymns.
Author notes
Loosely based on:
Col 1:15-18; 2 Tim 2:19; Eph 2:20; Isa 26:4; 1 Pet 2:4-12;
Matt 28:20; Cor 1:24; John 1:1; Heb 12:2; Jer 17:14; Matt 19:16-17;
John 1:3; Matt 16:13-17; John 3:1-2; Matt 13:45; John 15:1;
SoS 2:1; Hag 2:7; John 10:7; Cor 9:15; James 4:12; 1 John 2:1-2;
Isa 9:6-7; John 14:6; Heb 3:1-4:13; John 1:29
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
This poem is not meant to serve as an all encompassing list of professions; for example, here are a few more viewpoints not mentioned:
To the BAKER, He is the Living Bread.
To the JUDGE, He is the Righteous Judge of all Men.
To the NEWSPAPER, He is the Good Tidings of Great Joy.
To the OCULIST, He is the Light of the Eyes.
To the SOLDIER, He is the fortress.
To the CHRISTIAN, He is the Son of the Living God, the Savior, the Redeemer and the Lord.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
There used to be spaces
Between falling asleep and waking up
Spaces without emotional gravity
Where it gets hard to breathe, and I am turned inside out
There used to be spaces
Between pale fingers and heavy shoulders
Spaces cold with longing
For a breathing, comforting warmth
Where these spaces used to be
There's now you
Within every weary crevice, your presence flows
Every touch a lingering sediment, filling pieces that were once broken
Fossilizing fragile parts that were once left to die
Where these spaces used to be
There's now you
Patiently holding me through the varying magnitudes of my earthquakes
Silently bearing my uncalled eruptions
So accepting, of my faults and folds
There used to be spaces
Where what was precious to me were only the gemstones I collected
And where these spaces used to be,
There's now you.
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 12:53 AM UTC
You are a slow lava flow
hard rock over a
flowing magma heart.
The catch of your breath
feels like a mountain shaking.
You are a calm surface,
a gentle heat,
and every mineral I need.
you may never explode,
but any good geologist would agree
a volcano is the best way to go.
let me die
still studying
the very heart of you,
in 50 years or so.
Jan 5, 2024
Jan 5, 2024 at 5:31 PM UTC
The nation's Capitol rattled and shook.
Washington's monument cracked.
The Nation's Cathedral is minus a spire.
The people cried out for Barrack.
A previously unknown fault line had shifted
causing a crack in basalt
The President paused from his golf game to chat
with his geologist, a man named Walt.
After a lengthy Analysis
down in the Smithsonian's vault
The commander in chief is relieved to report
that this too was Bush's Fault
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
Today I learned
That rocks are more likely
To break along preexisting fractures
Even if you fill the cracks
When under pressure
They fail along those same fracture lines
I think that is how heart breaks work
When your heart breaks
And leaves an empty space
You may be able to fill it in
But it doesn't take much
To open that hole again
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
The nation's Capitol rattled and shook.
Washington's monument cracked.
The Nation's Cathedral is minus a spire.
The people Cried out for Barrack.
A previously unknown fault line had shifted
causing a crack in basalt
The President paused from his golf game to chat
with his geologist, a man named Walt.
After a lengthy Analysis
down in the Smithsonian's vault
The commander in chief is relieved to report
that this too was Bush's Fault.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 9:17 PM UTC
Ask me about *****
at the Pitcher & Piano
a woman sits angular
snow swirls in her face
the Tundra, a riot, an Izba*
or a Romanov's Faberge egg
Lean into this moment
the curve of it's being
like a sail into the wind
or the Bering Strait neatly
amongst Icebergs
Canada
Marylin
The Niagara Falls
a Geologist's contentment
a backpack & a tent
ink& a compass
Omai* resplendent
* Izba - a country hut ( russian)
* Omai - Mai, the second pacific Islander to ever visit Britain in the late 1700ds who became popular in London's high society
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
we are pre-existing pieces of decayed particle mass
eroded bones and ***** tissue deteriorated in between
sediment layer and sand which was once
rocks and crust which will become dirt and dust
we are part of a cycle:
evolve, exist, decay, die, rebirth
isn’t it comforting to know that no matter who
you loose in the physical realm
you gain in the mountain range?
i am of the same consciousness and
compounds of our beloved earth
i am the exoskeleton of prehistoria-millennia
of bodies cursed with
skin or hide, feathers or scales
my future can only come to fruition
if my past accepts it as a part of it
i can no easier deny myself as myself.
i must first accept myself and bits
and pieces of yesterday
not one individual, but a collective of
energy sources
i am an archive. i am a history book.
i am a geologist. i am space and i am time.
in its never-ending full arc continuum
my purpose in this life is to
accept myself only as a recycled
chain of elements
and i don’t mind sharing wavelengths
with continental crust
and i’ve already come to terms
with my brain becoming dust
and i fall asleep tonight with a happy
heart and mind.
knowing my place in life
and my impression throughout time.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
I think I'll go for a walk
To myself I shall mutter and talk
I'll search high and low
And home I'll not go
Till I find the poem I sought
Shocking how the time goes
Like a river it flows and flows
It just disappears
Days become years
Where does it go, do you knows?
He found a rock, the geologist
Whose identity he missed
He thought it was gneiss
But when he looked twice
It was just a piece of schist
They found a bug to eat plastic
Which everyone thought was fantastic
But they started to frown
When their pants fell down
Because it ate the elastic
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 5:30 AM UTC
Once upon a time, I met a girl.
Now, I'm certainly no geologist,
but I can definitely say she rocked my world.
So much so, that I may need to see a psychologist.
This girl was beautiful from head to toe.
Not just because of aspects like personality or aesthetics,
but because she continued to fight her internal foe.
The kind of ceaseless beauty not found in cosmetics.
Sadly, she cannot seem to see herself as I do -
shrugging off compliments or scoffing in disbelief.
She struggles every moment of ever day, yet there is one I rue:
The moment she convinces herself death is the only relief.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
I found an empty room in you
Something i never found in everything else
All i got from them is a room
Filled with people pulling each other on the way up
Being there kind of set me free
Like a bird's first time flying
And like a child's first time walking
We all wandered and flew and soared
Did things i never thought I could
Like having the world in my hand
Seeing what my heart contains
And my love in a piece of paper
I'am a scientist, a doctor and a geologist
I'am everything, I could be everything
No one tells me what I should be
I could be a coward and still not be judged
I found the whole world in you
I felt his love in you
And it's kind of everything
Slowly I forgot my way out
It's so calm and serene
away from the chaos
Away from the pollution
away from him
Seeing nothing doesnt mean empty
Im wrong its not empty at all
It was filled with things i could not see
But Im certain it's love
(K.Cross)
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
Things chronicled in shalestone fossils
or superannuated tree rings
can only be read by convinced decipherers.
Disciples of scientific wedges,
the geologist, the dendrologist,
are playwrights of elapsed and extinct
note taking on modern note making gadgets.
Habits only experts in probing
can manage. To convince a tree hugger
that his data, is more evolved upon
a digital device rather than paper,
provides no comfort for fossil record-keeping
stone huggers worried about a valley
of eroding silicon.
I, for one, cannot be concerned for either.
As for a more feasible digital implant
to be splintered under my skin,
to keep track of my where-abouts
is now achievable. I may want one
for my dog or child, but do I want one
for myself?
Will I have a choice?
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
sometimes, life is suprising....
the orchid I left to die of loneliness
has put forth a new shoot and seeks
the sunshine from the dusty window
my brother's daughter
has taken up residence
in the nannexe and
is exuberantlu adventurous
next weekend she jumps
from a plane, strapped
to a stranger...
this lifestyle is of course
my fault....
my mother enjoys having
her knees massagd by
the big muscle bound attendant
and flirts outrageously with him
(don't have the heart to tell her
he is gay..... a lot of the older women at
the residence also flirt, he takes it all with a
gentle smile)
the tuxedo devon rex has
taken to sleeping in the wok
sometimes with the purlioned
sock stash of the day...
one of the academics, a geologist
a gentle quiet man, steady as they come,
stripped naked before dancing
the charleston in the quad
....he is now under care
as I said sometimes life is suprising
sometimes a little sad
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC