"implantation" poems
Calf augmentation => silicon implantation
Endoscopy, otoplasty, baby
Mentoplasty, rhinoplasty, scalpel
Juvederm at 4, Starbucks pit-stop right after,
pop some xany's and go
Chemical peel, dermabrasion
Dr. Unknown PhD. meet patient Montag XR3.
Brain stimulation, kneecap replacement
Doc, I'm starting to miss the table, is this a complication I should expect?
Fat grafting, bone grafting, mystic tanning
(what really is natural nowadays?)
Chin reconstruction, laser resurfacing,
(what really is me anyways?)
Consultation with your post-op pain,
It's gonna be "Ouchy" for a month,
but worth it in the end.
Self-esteem scan shows a cancerous tumor and growth
Yuck
And here I thought plastic was
"cancer-free"?
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast
Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire
We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness
Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness
Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars
Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges
Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses
Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak
Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast
By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon: the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation
Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
Beyond the lost days of manna,
all nutrition I'll ever need
was given to me at birth
with the implantation of spiritual seed.
An enabling inner spark,
combined with soul's hungering emptiness,
allowed me to find divine connection
and a path towards Your Holiness.
Thank You Lord for Your Daily Bread
that feeds my spirit and sustains my soul;
for feasting on Your Word everyday
is the best way to be kept whole.
Author Note:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 11:31 AM UTC
As I gaze into the stars, what lays beyond the night
Visions on a distant dream, a spark of gleaming light
Is there universal life, why is everything so bright
Colours drained across the sky, nothing but impending white
I stare out of the window pain, I wander what's beyond
What's inside the shimmering light, what's behind that tranquil pond
I'm transfixed I can not move, my body does not respond
A pulsating flash is seen, but I can not abscond
The window cracks and shatters, and I have no strength or power
Pieces of a tormented mind, float amongst the glass shard shower
Has true reality been lost, this is my most desperate hour
Nothing else is seen within, what does the light devour
The drowsiness inside my head, or am I just mistaken
I am dreaming bygone dreams, will I ever be awaken
My feelings are forgotten, once again I have been taken
Is my mind fully intact, my journey is now forsaken
Voices are heard amongst the sounds, of close and distant screams
The presence of cold grey hearts, are drifting in my dreams
Visions seen through a clouded haze, nothing is what it seems
Piercing eyes of deepen black, skin shinning though the beams
Flickering lights a small movement, I am the victim of damnation
I unravel piece by piece, experiments undo all creation
What's the purpose of abduction, I have a metal implantation
My humanity is being removed, I no longer have salvation
I can't escape my tortured soul, while I am laying here
Time stands still within these walls, along with all my fear
Feeling afraid and vulnerable , but I can not shed a tear
Helpless to my abductors, I am taken year by year
Are human abductees taken, to cause humanities own destruction
And implants placed under the skin, to send people an instruction
I am always taken back, a time before my last seduction
The light will come for me again, upon my next abduction
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC
Release yourself from haughty thoughts,
since God’s foolishness is wiser than you;
His wisdom and knowledge transcends time,
unlike the limitations of the Human view.
Release yourself from worries and concerns,
for He has promised to meet your every need;
reap benefits from the gifting that He placed
within your implantation of spiritual seed.
Release yourself now from your earthly cares;
honor Him with your time, tithes and talent!
Test the Lord today against His Scriptural Word,
for His grace will always be your Divine supplement!
Give yourself to God, while upon this earth you trod;
give yourself to His Light and sleep peacefully each night.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Phil 4:19-20; 2 Cor 10:5; Isa 57:15; Psa 90, 4:3-8
2 Peter 3:8; 2 Tim 1:7-10; Mark 11:22-25
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
i said goodbye to the desert
spit out a few grains of rust and sand
as i sat in the back of my mother's grand marquis
i was bidding farewell to the long plaid skirt i wore to school every day
the school that was mercifully unmarred by bullets
the glitter on the popcorn ceiling of my grandparents' home
the smell of an overwhelming saturday evening
which stank of discarded waste and cigarettes
we were going somewhere special
goodbye nuevo laredo
eight years later
i said goodbye again
to a neat little home
nested tightly amongst the bricks of others
a hilly backyard
bluebonnets sashaying on the side of the highway
mexican restaurants every three blocks
that could never replicate what i once had
stars and stripes holding steady in the shade of a sycamore tree
a glittering city in the distance
i was in love
and i was going somewhere special
i was elated to escape
both of my previous lives
always finding myself awash with uncertainty
adrift as i committed and uncommitted to a series of distractions
from the beastly recesses of my pruned little brain
that snarled about hopelessness
abandonment
a lack of worth
and motivation
maybe i knew i was meant to run
since the moment of implantation
my new neighborhood is impeccably silent at night
no hollers to strain my ears for
no ominous pop-pop-pops
(was that a firework or could it be...)
no jovial music with thundering basses and large round drums
i eat pork drenched in teriyaki sauce
and drink green tea in the evenings
on the train, i gaze at the empty stares of other passengers
my gaze is also unreadable
i practice the strokes of a kanji
one, two, three...
my husband and i meander through temples
heavy and groaning with the weight of a thousand years
of life
benevolent buddhas and Cheshire-grinned demons
i can't help but think of the message of a western God
that my mother recited to me every night in the black of our room
sometimes i shuffle my feet in the square space of my living room
to the tune of cumbia
i used to think that i didn't have an identity
no confinement to a culture conceived by the likes of men
but i am what i am
and i never actually escaped
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
My inspiration;
I dream of a nation
where the implantation
of dreams ceases all death-
to hungry slaves, those crying
babes, on mommy's sunburnt
knobbly thighs. And in divine truth lies
an interrupted sigh by the girl with wide eyes
who sits in a room in which Big Brother ensues...
These words spoken by scholars who want my golden
dollars, my earned debt, my love and respect, how do we go on?
How do I prove wrong to those bodies standing higher preaching to a
double bladed choir...ready to make words.
but what?
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC
If I could impregnate myself with my tears
My children would be innumerable and divine
Delicate as the lilacs at my feet
And as giving as my mothers hands
My children and I would dance wildly to the sound of the shaking leaves
And laugh until we cried at the absurdity of the decaying frames of the eternal surrounding infrastructures
I would gather our collective tears and water my children
Careful to sift the salt and reserve just enough for future implantation
My babies would nest in the tight curls of my crown and I would rock them to sleep in the gentle curve of my lashes
Blinking slowly and steadily to ease the restlessness of their being
If I could birth my children from my ear
I’d rest my head on a pillow and never leave
I’d rest my head flat on the soft surface
Turning my head only slightly to the left to give a final shake
Releasing my babies from their sack
I’d let them snuggle against my cheek as I sang to them the songs of the old Gods
And the new
I’d warm them with heat of my breath and nourish them with the saliva of my tongue
I’d listen intently to their soft whispers inquiring about the beams of light seeping through the cracks of the walls
And
The vines sprouting through the floor boards and climbing pillars on the bed
If I could birth my children from the scrapings from under my fingernails
I’d tear at my flesh until there was nothing left but raw nerve and blood
I’d dress them in gowns made from the weaved patches of hair growing across my mons *****
And I’d make them sun hats from the shattered pieces of my toe nails
If I could sink into the soil and grow my babies from my decay
I’d sprout a row of sunflowers
And the many seeds in its ***** would be my youngins
They’d fall away one by one
Matured
And run off uninhibited into the spring
Little pieces of me
Drowning in the sunshine
Free
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
Christ, such a dork. Beneath the yawning,
all leaf and stem - memory device
protruding from a secret compartment under, like, 1/2 an inch of flesh.
I've only seen it once, during a hallucination.
I had a fever and they held me down.
Step one,
carefully remove birthstone earrings, and
step two,
implantation.
Silver disk that taunts the shoal.
I meant to say haunts the soul. Anyway
I'm getting in too deep, and you really are such a dork, skipping down the sidewalk,
captain of your very own ship Don't-Give-Two-Shits. And
maybe we will picket this fence, explain that it's not the one being poisoned, that
this is literature and this is artLol, and fence,
either you're a dum dum squeegee-ing water from your windshield
or you're one of us bear cubs in high heeled christmas trees -
Idk. Pls,
give me something good to dream, sunspotter.
See, if I stack these two sponges on top of each other and then squish them,
I can make the tahquamenon falls.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ********** your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ********** your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 12:47 AM UTC
I’m not the type of beautiful that aggressors with your senses all at once, nor am I the type to make the stars stare. But I am the type of beauty that dictates spaces ,I **** up air with my soft energy, and I lure you’re in bit by bit , making you uncover the depths of my beautiful
I then start ********** your fears and painting them with rose water, I feel the textures of how you think and submerge myself into the folds of your brain ,I begin to creep around in your thoughts and I implant the real me ,and this is when my beauty will overpower your feelings
Never harshly my love , by softly , like the drip of a tap, and this implantation is worse than being injected with venom that kills you slowly.
You will bow down to my beautiful , because it’s the type that takes your life slowly , the type that you don’t realize is there.
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC