"hostilities" poems
and as being alone is not the same as lonliness...then perhaps "peacefulness" does not mean the silly liberal search for the end of hostilities
and as being a lover does not mean having *** with someone but merely implies a true commitment to humanity....then of course all things are seen in natural harmony
but then!
what would lady gaga say!
and as being a real soul does actually seem to necessitate the abandonment of cultural stupidity.......then perhaps our attempts to write down and express our feelings might possibly be the act of saving the world!
but then!
what would sarah palin say we really mean!
---
come
be free
it is better that way
i
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
Tomorrow I shall see the birth of the awaited dawn
Today it seems I am locked in a midnight zone
Tomorrow I will not walk into the dread of the night
But shall be led by the blazing light
Tomorrow I will carry my yoke manfully
And never recite the litany of my woes mournfully
Tomorrow I shall slow down and stop by the mountain side
And watch the silvery stream joyfully down way glide
Tomorrow I shall seize every chance that comes my way
And never wait for them to fall on another day
Tomorrow I shall be out of my prison cell with discord round
And shall enter a palace with joys abound
Tomorrow I shall willingly partake of another’s grief
And never seek solely my own relief
Tomorrow I shall wait for the calm that follows the storm
And not grumble in haste that life is a withering dream
Tomorrow I shall look beyond the clouds of gathered gloom
And see for myself the beauty of stars that in hundreds bloom
Tomorrow amid hostilities I shall keep alive the sparks of friendship
And never mourn the absence of anyone for companionship
Did I hear someone teasingly say to my utter surprise
“Your resolutions sound so good! But what if tomorrow doesn’t arise?”
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
Car packed and ready to go;
on leave so we thought but it wasn't so;
I suppose it wasn't just meant to be;
T Air Defence Battery was going to sea;
Across the south Atlantic Ocean;
Well at least that was the notion
One hundred and ten ships all packed to the top;
Commandoes, Paras, Guards, Ordinance, Artillery, the lot;
This is it lads. We're going to war;
But nobody knew, what was in store
And all those mixed up feelings inside;
Were **** near impossible for us to hide.
We landed at a place called San Carlos Bay;
In nineteen eighty two. On the twenty first of May;
To repel Argentine invaders from the Malvinas;
Anxious, proud and scared. You had to have seen us.
Across the Falklands, the Task Force did travel;
By air, sea and foot and not as a rabble;
Objective Port Stanley for the final shove;
First taking Tumble Down; Goose Green and Bluff Cove
We recaptured the Islands. They were British again,
And amid all the glory, cheering and pain;
We now look to peace for as long as we reign
And no more hostilities, that drive man insane
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 11:36 AM UTC
~one more for the r man~
almost Monday
and its weighty five day oppressive lead poisoning on the horizon,
is but a thirsty thirty six minutes away from its fortified Sumter, first shot to be fired at midnight, how we love to mark the commencement of hostilities and killing
but I am already wounded, a casualty of having spent evening with pleading, pleasing timer eating, reading of your work,
r
the sounds of inestimable admiration and infectious jealousy
make this old man eager to discard a lifetimes work and
begin fresh, but only as a copyist of you,
r
I know you’re thinking "what in the hell is he blubbering about?"
so I willingly will my confessional offering in the dark of the
holy bedroom; for you make me eat my words, and
spit them out as wastage, in dumbfounding humility
god you and yours, make me frail and blessed that I stumbled
upon your abbreviations of the human life,
r
shut up and accept my three r’s
reading ‘riting and rising
up to sing hymns of praise
for a man with a historical perspective and
whose few occasionals
are carved in the granite bench
of what makes my life
worthy of load bearing;
more than bearable,
all are soul-enlightened by
baring our humility, our admiration
11:24pm 4/15/18
nyc
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
Heading to nowhere, trudging, one foot falls a step in front of the last...
left battles right as one lunges for the future and one stays in the past..
Eyes scan the horizon, new possibilities with every step…
the mind grows wiser and ejects hostilities with every breath..
Gazing into the heavens selfishly to accept it’s warm love..
As sunlight falls helplessly from its ancient home above..
It traveled all the way to give me and this amazing planet life..
No turning back today, every ray makes the ultimate sacrifice..
Crashing through the darkness until it finds a reaction..
Fate and destiny have yet again have proven the laws of attraction…
Sometimes it just takes being in the right place at the right time..
For inspiration to follow the narrow path into an open mind..
This why I find myself drawn to every distant corner of the earth...
Subconsciously searching for my little section of sand, stone, or dirt..
Something keeps pulling me along to witness the unseen..
Embracing it with blind obedience leads me on to another dream..
So I'll follow this attraction no matter what's written on the scroll..
It's what the future holds, the unseen paints the missing half of my soul...
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:20 PM UTC
I sleep in my cardboard cottage
That is my current job.
I keep it neat and clean as I can
I am not a slob.
I have my own place staked out
Everyone knows it’s mine.
It keeps the wind off as I doze.
It isn’t perfect but it’s fine.
Part of my job these days is easy;
I set out a cup and sing.
It doesn’t make me a million
But it is something.
When the weather warrants it
I sleep in the park
In the bright warm sunshine;
Stay awake in the dark.
It seems the citizens and cops
All leave me alone
Even though they still talk to me
With condescending tone,
Tsking at my laziness in general
Give the charity buck
Or maybe a quarter when they see
Since I’m down on my luck.
There’s this guy Hay Soose
But he spells it Jesus.
He could spell it that way
If he so pleases
But that don’t keep him dry
Whenever it rains
And it doesn’t stave most of the
Deep arthritic pains
From sleeping under cardboard
As his only roof.
Watch him shiver in winter if
You want some proof.
People have gotten to know me
As I’m here every day.
Some of the even come by with
Nice words to say.
And, I am used to the noise here;
The horns and the noise
Of the workaday world of these folks;
These grownup girls and boys.
Some tell me to go find some work,
I don’t get mad and shout.
I understand they have some hostilities
They have yet to work out.
Some of my neighbors here in cardboard
Dwell here because they
Can’t seem to work life out for themselves
In any other way.
People fire them from any employment
Because they act weird.
Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is
They refuse to cut their beard.
As for me I have had enough of it all;
The rattle and the hum.
I know society has a lot to offer but
I already had some.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Never appease one to please one....
Never pacify one to satisfy one.....
Never contradict one to predict one....
Rationalize one to correct one.....
Debate one to change one......
Sound minds are strong minds......
Have peace cross you over.......
Meditate to create........
Hold no,
hostilities,
resentment,
anger,
hate.....
Hold on to,
humility,
forgiveness,
compassion,
love.......
Stay real....
Stay away form games.....
Think before you speak.......
Do what you say....
Dream big and chase your dream........
Surround yourself with one's with goals.....
Learn self motivation.....
Direction and drive is the key.....
Discipline yourself.....
Count on no one and the intelligent will follow....
Be a true leader and it will lead you to success.....
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
My Muse had a strange concept,
Aussies could spread Test cricket,
Global peace from this precept,
Middle East with a new diversion,
Test Cricket's mesmerising stupefaction,
No shots daily, narcotic absorption,
"Resume hostilities at the end of the next over..."
They'll say, "New bowler's called Grover.
We'll see if he bowls a maiden over."
Large LED screens on constant display,
Test Cricket, Ashes every day,
Hours sitting in the hot sun, that's the way,
That's why there's Peace in Australia,
Without Test Cricket, Peace is a failure!
Yes, Aussies could preach Test Cricket,
My muse and its weird concepts!
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
If it shames you,
If it shocks you,
If no one ever cared enough
To brave it through for you,
If that's not how it was done-
Then run.
Shirk responsibilities,
Hold on to old hostilities,
Ensure a future
For your daughter
Full of mistakes you've already made.
Do not grace her with faith,
Do not bestow your care upon her-
Let her think it was never there.
Cigarettes, alcohol,
Heartache, adolescence
Just ************ and
Regular flirtations and relationships-
Don't tell her to say no.
Just make sure she knows
They're unforgivable, all of them;
(Make sure she knows both shades that life can offer,
Raise her awareness of the wonderful choice
Between white and black.)
Fabricate the pretense that in this 21st century
She'll never come across them, not once.
Tell her that safe *** is not
Something she should know about
Because she will just not do it
Ever, period
And experimentation with substances and heck,
Even with people, are crimes
That only criminals commit.
And she will learn despite you.
And she will do things to spite you,
And one day, she'll grow old enough to hate you
And she won't care or feel the need
To explain her side of things
Because she will find happiness in her way
And she will have survived long enough
To have learned how to cut you from her heart.
And she won't even have to see you,
And the day will come
When you've become
Just a subject of her art.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Significance decreased as your speech began to reek
with pretentious hypocrisy revealing conspicuous shortcomings
Importunately making conclusions based upon illusions
Spouting lines to save but delirium is all you gave
As if I were seeking your confirmation, salvation, or blessings
I would've asked your opinion if I valued your progression and prosperities
or wondered into a church if I sought duplicitous appease
This unrequited love you deal is meretricious and full of disease
You sell a lie until it's spent then devour what is left of one's esteem
You depend on the humiliation and degradation of another
to accommodate the hostilities you experience from others
Passing off insurmountable grief to save yourself from your own realities
I hope one day you find peace and revelation
Before someone else is enraptured by your false persona falling victim to your belittlement and fluctuations
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:46 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
You oppressed, egotistical , ignorant, uneducated , biased self
Living in the box of conformity
I want to stitch your tongue on the roof of your mouth to silence you
I refuse to coincide to everyday traditionalist events
I won’t be a victim of someone’s else’s mistake
Hostilities and intimidation it polluted you ***** little mind
There is nothing unique about conventional clothes
Poverty ridden the abyss makes me rage
Dreaded emaciated void that overflows with pain
No one is thriving but this phantom pain that you feel is real
Bleak and suddenly ill
I want to choke out the interior of your shame
Gelatinous core swallows you whole
While you wear your American mask
This is your wasteland , desolate as your character
It interrupts with clatter as it fractures the earth
Covering you with splinters of despair
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
Not equal
We are not born equal
I'm born in a naked cage
Open hostilities
A crown of thorns etched into our being
Namelessness is considered a gift
We are not born equal
The weight of expectations
The brunt of brutal suppression
Of our existence
Is incomparable
The pain that we never deserved
Yet is destined for us
Religion defined me
Contained me
Yet changing it
Abandoning it
Does not break my chains
Often I wonder
When people cannot realize
The wholesale selling of humanity
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
I saw you pass me by in your lonely-star state
and I thought if I ever had time to say anything to anyone
now would be the time to tell you
why you would ever want to collect dust in a place like this where all things
and dreams are swept out the door at night in place of the lies and hostilities
we all feel during our shift to keep watch of strangers and best friends,
why you would think of responding to me still baffles the shy kid inside my
oddly shaking heart while he's standing next to you asking
if you would please just dance with this broken toy and you did without
question or reason, you just took me and shook me and reminded you
of someone you still think about on the days when you feel lonely
and the people here just don't sing the way I can or meet your eyes
in the hallway where I'm trying so hard for you to not touch me
yet you are trying to graze my chest ever so subtly that everyone seemed
to notice the smile on your face or how quickly it left you
when that criminal came waltzing in, holding your emotions hostage,
knife to your throat, heart knocked out of wind when all you had to do
was ask me how to breathe again, why you would ever want that
still makes me wonder.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
I was the small animal, shivering in the cave,
Scarcely breathing, trapped, pushed in.
My beating heart revved like a motor engine,
Like adrenaline in fierce hostilities.
Though I could not see it,
I was too busy trying to frolic among the alpha-males,
As though that was the only way to live,
Sharpening my claws when I could have been sharpening my cunning,
Because here we live not understanding,
That not everyone is gonna flaunt themselves as the big dog.
I’m out now,
I grew opposable thumbs and was able to turn the key,
And say “Do svedanya”
To what I realized was just,
A pile of males competing to be on top.
If people wish to take a stand,
Against something they cannot truly feel,
Then I implore you,
Do my lungs not breathe the same air as you do?
Does my heart not beat just as yours does?
Do my eyes not perceive the same wonders as you do?
For those of you who enjoy
Distinguishing right and wrong,
Look at the animal to your left and
Watch if he tries to steal from your plate
Instead of letting your eyes burn
With that overwhelming rage.
Those claws can’t scratch the surface
On understanding that the same blood
Flows within our veins.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
Friction addiction
Hostilities slip from blistered lips
Scald the core of me
The I don't love you
War of words
and absurdities
What will it take to please you
Teasing me with shackled pleasure
The measured moments
Your addiction is friction to my spirit
I hear it in your veiled promises and lies
Defies the logic that tethers me
Responisibility
Civility
The trappings of this plastic
Psuedo humanity
Insanity the manacles I drag
Bound and gagged by your perception
The deception of what you choose to see
Skin to skin we writhe enslaved
I will never be set free
TL Boehm
080708
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
My mother is no mother.
For some time there is laughter, a tangible happiness runs through the air.
Day to day and everything is ok.
As the laughter fades the days grows dark, because, my mother is no mother.
What was bubbly, sarcastic, and even fantastic! is now rude, ungrateful, and hateful.
My mother is no mother.
The time has come; she feels it at the very core of her being. An internal
clock, tic tok, tic tok, tic tok and stop!
Calm before the storm, we wait. What more is there to be done?
Its world war three for about the thousandth time. Down to the bunker, also known as our room,
we'll wait out the storm. Call in for back up; it’s going to be a long night. We can leave, but what
about the others? Decisions we shouldn’t have to make. Decisions deciding others fate.
For, my mother is no mother.
I’m sorry, it’s ok. I love you, I know.
The peace is weak, how many times can you sign the same treaty?
Force a smile....look some light creeps back in.
But still, my mother is no mother.
Tentative at first, but then more secure. We laugh, we sing, we run, and we yell.
Simply for the sake of a hiatus in hostilities.
Even if, my mother is no mother.
Inside she knows she is lying. I'm sorry, are you? I love you, I don't care.
My mother is no mother.
How much more can I take?
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
When Elijah comes again,
We'll all turn the page of sin,
He is not the Lord,
But a voice of awe,
Heaven above, earth below,
Fire within, ever to glow,
Divine life and love on Planet Earth,
One vision and one dream,
Amity and no more bigotry,
One global fellow humanity,
Ceasing hostilities, such sin,
When Elijah comes again.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
In this world there is content,
Not peace resulting from ignorance,
But from of a constant epiphany,
A continuous period of bliss.
With No presumptions towards secrecy,
And the Creation of lies, forgotten.
A world with no language,
No value given to specific vibrations,
But, value of conceptual understandings,
Portraying only pure… hmm what’s the word??
Idea, thought, concept, want, need, feeling, mood, attitude, intention
Alas, the flaw of words.
A world with no idolization,
Presence of worship missing,
Useless notions of transcendence
And false beliefs of punishment, lost,
Without fabrication through
Generations of distortion,
And lack of interest towards justifying mysteries,
But only understanding.
A world with no usury,
No additional value given,
To luminescent objects which capture attention,
And marvel towards possessions of large stature,
But, in a world of such nothings,
What is?
A world of simplicity,
A pursuit of self awareness and want of betterment,
Without intentions of grandeur,
Want of greater good, without hostilities.
Thinkers, always in pursuit of truth.
In this world there is content,
There is not war,
There is no religion,
There is no frail mind,
There is no necessity of grandeur.
There is no truth or lie, just understanding,
In this world there are no humans.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
I will not hide despite the cameras in the sky, nor will i fear the satellites or Internet spies, and i will fight, and i will fight, as to not comply to the lies that co-hearse the norm, into standing idly by, in malformed, and twisted histories, twisting history, into a pearled vision of ministries giving eulogy, to enemies of the light, using light to blind the masses, before the flashes of infertility begin emanating from the cities, under the unity of, We The People, turned predator, under better sedatives that are better delivered, straight to the dream, or belief, of, or in anything.
Dare to dream, turn a blind eye to everything, or just something else, assigned children, or stolen wealth, while warmly held, in foggy hostilities, of those you rarely see, while soldiers of the peace, protect the streets, with covered faces, and powder burned fingers, lingering just out of reach, from the stones that burn the armored cars SAWing through the crowds, with the pulsing sound, of a million hell hounds, hell bound, machine gunning the bodies on the ground, for the pale riders, feeding on the dark horse, on course for a four course meal, leaving hopeless poses, of crying corpses, ashing in the wind of their trail.
Its our blood of defeat that lines the streets with the feed for the beast, as well as that same blood that feeds our victory, as we shall be exactly on time for the end, and the beginning.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
ah, there's the honey
right in front of you
labeled for eating.
give me information
and take off your blanket
(unless it's snowing,
and if it is, promise to take me with you):
to play.
oh, there are faces,
beauty, reaching out
beneath eyelids because
direct contact is where confusion strikes.
snuggle buddy
you feel like silly putty
you mold and mash into me
warm and happy.
tying
and trying
to escape the binds
we wrap ourselves in.
we sweat, we sleep,
wake up hungry.
sit across the table
from each other,
in the corner,
and try
not to
stare.
give me a bite
I just want to taste what you taste.
constant communication
my hands are clammy but running them through your hair seems nice.
you let me lift fingers
tap gently, crawl scratching:
don't stop. don't.
no.
you shake your head
faster than the cold
shakes my legs.
I understand when to back away.
but here I am.
in your arms,
all sweetly woven
that it's me you've chosen,
but I relapse through thoughts
of conversations that remind me that
this is more stimulation than either of us
are used to.
we need time to relate.
some self-stimulation: **********
give your body away less than you want to.
notice the difference between stimulation, gratification,
and feelings that need to subside.
letting go
falling through
breaking up
it's all puke in the mouth
the taste is indifference
and I swallow it back
without choking or spitting.
thoughts of you: staying cautious.
I'm drinking through thin fingers
my throat is a pillar, an obstacle.
my dead end is an abrupt answer:
so clear. restless, and easy. feeling
the need to move. risking my senses
for more adventurous hostilities.
things take time,
but what if time and I aren't speaking?
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
In a clear cosmetic inclination
Of my vast amount of limited intelligence
I resolve what's known to sever the connection to oneness
With my passive excessive alarming calmness
I hide my humanistic conflicts in an unconscious state
In the compression of unreleased hostilities
I combat my unreserved civilities
In a melting *** of unreasonable measures
I find sensibility has lost its pleasure...
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
My
lens is myopic
as the lunar lights reveal a replete and sallow stillness
I close my eyes... stuck on her
Our
slow motion
Zapruder film flesh hostilities play out
They
Lurch further toward me from the worst part of my mind
This is an
ante-meridium rerun wrought familiar
Those slow motion frames serve as a reminder
and I tell myself
“not again”
It’s always destroy, withdraw, withdrawal, return
No thrill, no endgame,
but we (i) play it out just the same
Renewed, resolvent, arisen,
(my) stake is wooden,
(she is) wet, crimson lipped and collapsing
Rest coldly now, unmoved upon a moribund midnight heart
These Thoughts of her feed on me in the night.
Images that prowl, project and play like celluloid
wanting her I toss and turn,
till, I lay,
languishing, and losing
lifeblood
lost and dreading daybreak
a living dead type of drained
Forlorn Feelings brought back from
damnation
soulless and predatory
This vampire lust won’t die.
But still I doubt Nosferatu had an *** like her’s
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Morning.
Temporary ceasefire with insomnia,
Marked by cheerful birds.
Morning.
Start of hostilities with drowsiness,
Combating alertness ceaselessly.
Morning.
Opening salvo with heavy caffeine support,
Awakening the senses with hot beverages.
Morning.
Food, an uncertain ally.
Alertness or comas—it’s sometimes close.
Morning.
Battle lines redrawn,
But war continues perpetually.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
The soul would have no rainbow
if the eyes had no tears.
Our wasting time would be useless
if we allow an explosion of fears.
We must exist, as best we can,
in this bothersome realm,
of dropping hints and
suggesting possibilities.
Rumours arise, like
dropping snow on
the sidewalks.
People walk upon
these cement lines,
looking down at
the tracks they
are making.
Counting their steps,
in an effort to be
significant.
We should look up, those
walking people and I,
at the snowflakes dripping
with the heaviness of change.
A new world, a white one,
is emerging in this place.
Dirt and grass covered.
Truth easier to ignore.
The soul would have no rainbow
if the eyes had no tears.
Our wasting time would be useless
if we allow an explosion of fears.
Fears, they come strong and fast.
Dominating the mental plane.
Creating new hostilities that
war like armies in the field.
We thrive in hated disasters,
creating boundaries to control.
But we control nothing, really,
but the direction of our hearts.
We must seek better directions.
Easier ways to co-exist
as we dash and flash
upon the city streets.
Eyes misted.
Hands cold.
Be quiet, for a second.
Listen to nothing.
Grow. Think.
Let the snowflakes
pattern themselves
into transformation.
Nothing of this world
is worth stressing about.
The soul would have no rainbow
if the eyes had no tears.
Our wasting time would be useless
if we allow an explosion of fears.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC