I find it so simple that a being can lull his or her self to sleep with soothing words of self worth, positive thoughts, or hopeful outcomes for the days ahead. How uplifting it must feel to drift out of the conscious world with all the dreams of the future solidifying in your mind, to only have that mirrored reflection of who you'd like to be become shattered into dismal shards of bloodied memories. The real world, I've found, is not what we experience when we are awake. No, the real world is experienced when the suppressed demons crawl under our skin and barricade our veins while we sleep, insisting upon halting our advances in bettering ourselves, proving to us that we are not as strong as we think.

Now, what about those who do not remember dreams? What do they do that makes them so lucky not to be engulfed in the nightly terrors and reminded on what life truly is, what we're really experiencing? I would never consider them lucky. They are in fact one of two types of people who are of the utmost unfortunate, the first type being those who have not yet realized that they walk hand in hand with their nightly demons in the conscious world. The other type of unfortunate soul is the one who refuses to listen, refuses to garner the insight offered to them, and suppresses yet more memories and thoughts and feelings and emotions and love and hatred until it boils up out of their eye sockets and they have no choice but to take action, whether against their own self or the beings around them.

These people, these souls who reassure themselves of their life's meaning and personal purpose each night, who plaster a smile on their mouths and a twinkle in their eye, they are the ones you should be fearing, for, if they are deaf and blind to their own misfortunes, they are deaf and blind to the world around them. They won't dream about the chaos in their brain or the chaos in society. They won't remember the day you told them they are loved, nor the day you told them they were hated. They will continue to be present in form, but absent in awareness, just as they are absent from their dreams. They will continue on down the dead end road of believing their dreams are what is planned for the future, instead of what has happened in the past. They will never learn to be strong enough to appreciate their nightly demons. They will never be strong enough to appreciate you.

God’s compassion is directed outwardly,
while self-pity is an ugly form of idolatry.
Abject misery will be guaranteed, when…
you’re centered on the selfish ego of “me”!

If you’re focused on your own misfortunes,
then you’re going to miss out on blessings;
concepts of personal happiness are fleeting;
therefore, realize what makes hearts sing

with an everlasting, unadulterated joy!
Ministering to others creates opportunities
for spiritual harvests in the lives of others,
but it requires a humbled spirit to see

the hand of God at work within His Kingdom.
Unresolved issues -anger, offense, and strife-
open empty doors to major disappointments
and insure the consequence of an unhappy life.

Being too tired and not resting enough ensures
that you’ll observe your daily lack of abundance;  
enjoy quiet time for prayer and self-reflection,
to gain proper eyesight for your circumstance!
.
.
.
Author Notes

Inspired by:
Gal 5:13-26

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

They expected you to be too much,
The funny, light hearted boy they always begged you to be,
So you gave in sacrificing the battles you
Hushed down deep in the pit of your stomach for a good laugh to create the mindful machine
To destroy the unspeakable Wars flowing in your veins.

And you still wonder why misfortunes are settling heavy on your thinning skeleton,
Forces so unbearable,
The coffee stains on your ill fitting t-shirt prove
That the sleepless nights have gotten the best of you.

Sleep doesn't come easy for those who can't let their worries go.

You blame the God you never took the time to understand,
He has always been the one who has filled you up to the edge of your mouth with
Hatred and Fire and Fear.

Oh, the fear is breaking your backbone,
Burning your every thought onto the next and the next and the next,
But when you drive your inconsistent thoughts and complaints down the throats of your parents, It has never felt so good.

Breaking them down to your level helps you breathe.
It eases you to darkening sleep,
Knowing they are worried just as much as you have always been.

Veil clear lace hangs on the finger tips of fate
Snake venom atop the mantle piece
Clicking tongues of misfortunes run
Now the hour for death has come

Make way for the reason for living
He stares at you dead in the eye
So long have you been wandering
So long you have been squandering

Hit leaf ground wet red orange yellow
Seasons change the eye is wet with water
Nothing close to genius or true talent
The God's are merciless in atonement

For' time was invented by a wave of their hand
I believe they still sit watch and stand
They are ringing their clothes in moist apple water
Zeus developing his next center fold grand daughter

We caught on to what they have been doing all along
Exploiting on mass scales for revenue and for sales
They smiles for their sickness is now our obsession
We'll build to the clouds leaving all crippled peasants

Forgiveness is no longer a future of man
Honor is dead hangs high shot in the head
Patience has been manipulated transfigured erased
Love tips its contents to beautify evils face

So many things
Have been happening
These last few days...
I have kept busy.

Busy with day to day errands
And pursuits
Day to day misfortunes
And pieces of happy!

Went to Walmart
And went to a Jazz festival!
Fell down from my bike
And Gus treated me to almond milk cold coffee!

It has been
This whole bundle of
Contrary things
Which have made up
My moments
Of these recent days...

I am happy
Because every grey cloud
Has shown me
A silver lining!
Did you find yours?

Like this
like that
we go into the night
cold
it's like an invigoration
invitation
to be naughty
get drunk
and laugh
until the cops come
and then some more
at the misfortunes of us
and ours
take it like it's light
and easy
because at the end
it's the end
and tonight
is pretty ******* awesome

It’s a long way down Long road
but surely you know that I want to go
this long way down Long road.

It’s a long way down Long road
but let us walk it slow, for I know
You         enjoy this time

And as we talk
And as we mock
And as we laugh at their misfortunes
we walk this long way down on Long road.

If this were to be the last of my odes,
Wait, an ode this isn’t for all of them,
Let me tell of this poet’s misfortunes
That has engulfed her to a requiem.

Everyone who sees her turns to sweetness,
Who wouldn’t turn down her cozy ambiance?
No wonder they turn to her blessedness,
Heart so crystal pure you won’t miss a chance.

She desires to fulfill her own heart song
And change from a sad and perilous past.
Alas, Fate is toying her all along,
Plummeting her to a prison aghast.

Now, she is but drowning in her own blood,
And all she can do is wait for Hades;
I see her soul being caught by the rod,
Gasping for her life, clasped into Eris.

Sadly, she falls to a tragic pure death,
Her carcass as feast for the dogs and worms.
Meanwhile, her soul is given for a breath
A dark ambrosia rejected like germs.

I can’t help but cry of how life fared her,
But no, pity isn’t to be given;
All the pangs of pain, she’s now the bearer,
Anon, the goddess of the forsaken.

Hey Star Child, are you listening? Do you know?
There is a woman who is seated at the edge of existence;
She sits at the blush of all creation
And in her deft hands, the fabric of time and upon it, she will sew
She will sew ever so lonely, the joyful memories of those of space
Such thankless work

Her skin is as dark as the unknowable void and her eyes as bright as celestial sparks
She wades her long, thick legs in the primordial ooze
From which all life grasped onto her endless scroll of the fabric of time which she marks
With all the spectrum of human knowledge and human emotion: humanity itself.
But for her deft craft; it is thankless work

And she has name; a name of decency and order
Cosima of the Cosmos: divine being of all with tranquil auras upon her lips
Her soul is that of chaos and order; blooming with gentle petals that did corder
The interconnectedness of the realms and worlds at her fingertips
With deft fingers, she sews and she sews and she sews
Unaware time has passed at all; her endless chore without beginning where she goes

Without end, without thanks
Cosima sews. That is the true nature of her celestial,
Of her ethereal
Duty to us, the children of the stars whom she is unaware of; hark
Tis us who are unaware of her
She who sits, sewing, at the gorgeous turmoil of the beginning and end of the universe
That she has crafted, blissfully unaware of her how fingers bleed for us
She sits, sewing, and crafting the fabric of time rolled out infinitely upon our Earth

Oh Cosima, oh darling Cosima of the Cosmos, do you know?
Are you listening to I?
I who wish to bid you praise for your stellar talents
I who cry out in the astral abyss; completely separated from you by space and time
I who cry out in a weak, perishing voice
I who wishes to acknowledge your tireless, endless work

The work Cosmia, oh Cosima my darling, who creates all the pleasures and misfortunes
Of the human experience we write, we sew, we who praise all your efforts
Unknowingly so
To which is met with more bitter, ignorant bliss
For you, Cosima of the Cosmos, do not realise you are not alone
You do not realise that your astral fingertips is more lives than you will ever know
How horrible it is, such thankless, beautiful work
Imbued with loneliness you will never fathom
For such loneliness is all you’ve ever known

The ordered universe: symmetry and entropy
Petals of magenta, unfurl and it does greet
The morning sun in joy and the evening moon in farewell,
A name by any other just as sweet
Cosmo, the one with the name of peace and order, Cosmo
The flower we have signified to mean such pleasantries
In the feminine name of the motherly woman who sits at the edge of nothingness
And all
We did name such a pretty petal pink
But does she know?
But do you know?

Hey Star Child, did you listen? Do you now know?
Hey Star Child, will you be the one to let her know?
Will you be the one to thank Cosima of the Cosmos?

052816

Career is calling me,
Ringing for several times.
My thumping heart says,
"These're your dreams, why not give it a try?"
Lingering deep down on my marrows,
An illusion of deception,
An escape to higher dimension.

Yes, I want to be who I wanna be,
But when not in Christ, it'd be a shattered me.

Calling isn't ringing at all,
But he's bumping down my inner soul.
He's not my type but there's something in him.
That waiting becomes a rest that's a prerequisite.
I'd required so much for myself;
At times, rest becomes a chapter to close
I'd to wipe every single misfortunes of old
I'd rather face this moment of yes to His call.

Praying to God led me to found the key,
The gist to a rebel who's vault is in an alley.
Dreams of old, faults of such degree
Of burnt, unwrapped -- an ambushed stealing of me.

"What have you done?"
One voice tamed the thousands,
Bring halt the aphonic mimics of who's legit.
Found myself showered w/ crystal-clear tears.

Awaken, tattooed the psyche of self;
Trashes became a view, floating with the unrest ocean.
I hear no breeze nor its whispering fears,
But fear itself, a coated-candy of trampled gears.

The word divorce has endless meanings
many couples part without malice.
Mutually agreeing to separate lives
property and thoughts divided.
Staying friends others enemies for life
regretting ever being man and wife!

Yet when children are in the equation
trouble really begins to build.
Each wanting the children with them
being a close part of their situation.
Courts and high costs are in the play
their wishes ignored anyway.

For years the arguments can rage
with untold damage done.
Selfishness of the individuals own thoughts
cloud the sensible approach.
But these are times of heightened tension
each are careful what they mention.

As the costs get tighter legal aid restricted
common sense needs to prevail.
But those who can afford to battle on regardless
the self indulgence of material wealth.
And haggling over their children's well being
creating future problems I'm foreseeing!

Do We Not Create Our Own Misfortunes?

The Foureyed Poet.

Glass people with their millions of physical worries
A rain pours and gets them shiny, gets them wet
The hem of their shirt rips underneath glass arms
A ripple is heard from the chuckle of a far away fawn

No words produced from these smooth glass lips
Are able to enter into my deep dark ears
I've been too busy listening to the soft cracked shores
The light drip of drink from the back alley ******

Is it too late to leave this world without regret or remorse?
A narrow opening slowly shows a flurry of colorful bows
Masterpiece of misfortunes unravels like a newborn babies cry
As the glass people walk delicately unknowing of their livid lie

To see a world with corrupted tree planting their plentiful seed
A memory of purity reminds me of youth
While a future that is bleak shows an adult already
Yes the night anywhere was always my only friend

And the sidewalk, with all its cracks, was always there for me too
Clipping my ears pointing to the bends of every tree
Passing by while eyes glance in nun like suspicion
Gripping their pounds and pounds of infinite ammunition

To the night that never left me
To the morning that always finds me
To a love that cannot escape me
To a hope that tries to forget me

Organizing myself the shelf
Tying the belt
For the start the part
The beginning of the day

Light seeps through
Window below the bellow
Of the city beats like
A drum
Like a
Heart on its last day

Grey misfortunes of
Lightly pattering rain stains
Of love presses Her lips upon
The ink blotched page
Memories of moments movements
Make their way to my
Consciousness now breathless

Table stands on four legs more
Days are coming
Solitude solidifies madness
Walls speaking wrecking havoc
Upon the fingers of the misused
Forgotten ****** unfortunate

Christmas time has passed at last
We wait for salvation in
The summer months of Heaven
Breaking the bread wine stains
Heavy tasting of pencil lead
Here the clock only strikes midnight
And the raven's beak has dulled

Whiteness of the walls wake me
Again and again
Prison must be easier than this
The salt shaker and pepper reflect
A sun whose heat I cannot feel
Two chairs one soul no bowl

If there was time to articulate
The meticulous meanderings of marriage
I would make an attempt at it
Try with every fiber to forget the past
Living here before and evermore
Releasing myself with mediated consistency

Words on these pages
There have been for ages
To say to live to breathe to die
A storm approaches
The farmer is putting all
Of his sheep inside

Coffee colored bitter hair
As the winter's chill is fair
Nodding to the frozen leaves
Of seasons past and gone
The spider weaves Her web
As the children make their way
Up the church steps

Each minute She is away
I can here the passing sway
As the cable cars make their way
Tickets are punched and
Hunches weigh me down
As the frown I wear is here to stay

Night and day
There is no difference
There is only
The distance between
Her and I

When the moon rises
She wakes
When the sun beams
I urge myself
No to flee

On the street there
Are places to
Wander into that
Take away loneliness
But
Only for a moment

When back out
On the desolate desert
Valley of concrete

The direction of purity
Is back to the room
Back to the page
Back to a place where
There is no thing as age

Heartache's
Perfection

Like a cork *****
Like a mountain
Like a diamond
Like the ocean

Perfection in its
Ability
To run you
Right through

With one
Simple

Move

my brain tricks me into thinking
that i'm the only woman
who's turned out jaded
after watching a man eat
chunks of my still beating heart

it's easy to place myself upon
this island, silent and sorry
while i sob under pine trees
and curse the planets for
making me endlessly desire love

i see you approach the shore,
the boat wasn't built with
your own hands, but you're
still a better man than all
of the ones that proceeded you

i speculate that you're here
to hunt weak and easy prey,
truth is that doubt and not loving
myself will be the only misfortunes
that bleed me dry

It's the way you genuinely laugh at my minute misfortunes.
It's the way you dance to your odd music, carelessly.
It's the way you looked at me.
It's the way you dedicate yourself to a task to a point where nothing else exists.
It's the way you let me talk, talk some more, and keep talking until I'm done. No interruptions.
It's the way you were honest with me.
It's the way you were patient and persistent.
It's the way you impulsively decided we should go swimming.
It's the way you would lead, the way you would always go first.
It's the way you forgave me.
It's the way you tolerated who I am, and how you still do so.
It's the way you get really cranky at 2 am.
It's the way you get even crankier when I tell you things you don't want to hear.
It's the way you would listen with the intent to respond with something meaningful.
It's the way you would indulge my interests without complaints.
It's the way you continue to be my friend.
It's the way you say good bye.
It's the way your eyes don't have a definitive color.
It's the way you look when you first wake up. It makes me laugh.
It's the way you REALLY enjoy TV.
It's the way you love your family.
It's the way you dress and present yourself.
It's the way you listen to peculiar music.
It's the way you make long drives fun, and mildly dangerous.
It's the way you were sure that you liked me, no questions about it. You liked me and that was that.
It's the way you look in the rain.
It's the way you don't understand that I think the world of you.
It is the way you are, and I like that.

You were the moon, the stars, and everything in between
But we fell apart like houses shattered by devastating hurricanes
And were trampled by the panic of tornadoes rumbling our hearts and cluttering our minds
But I swore I'd never see another sunrise
Without your hands occupied around my waist
Smiling with such certainty and elation
Sandcastle monuments glittered in the risen sun
And dancing waves met the shore infinitely
And that's how I envisioned our love-
Like the ocean's unfaltering meeting of the shore every time it breaks away
Like our lips and your cola residue
Dripping onto my tongue
I swore I tasted happiness when I kissed your smile
And I swore I felt alive when we jumped off of the edge of the Earth together
Free-falling into life's copious fortunes and misfortunes
I was lucky when I was with you
And now that the waves have swept you under the riptide we no longer meet
Forever was short, forever has ended
Separated by the fallacy of consistency and routine
I am embodied by bad luck in the form of face down pennies
And black cats circling my yard while lie outstretched on the ground, consumed by the dewy grass
Looking for you somewhere in the sky
The stars are my source of light
Since you no longer provide this commodity
I glance into the immense and mysterious abyss and beg for your voice
Like a foolish attempt to save the collection of memories and conversations and store them inside shooting stars
The salty floods rush to my eyes like devilish waterfalls
Sliding down my cheek with such ease
And every now and then ill look up at the moon
And see happiness resting inside the tiny sliver presented and I come to realize that
I may have just been a crescent in your sky
But you were my whole moon
(You promised always)

And at the end of the day
We are all left our own devices
To plot the peaks and highs of our lives
And mend the bridges we have broken along the way
To destroy ourselves once more
Each day at dawn
And resurrect what has already begun to Decay
To follow the clock
On and on
And become mechanized thereupon
To wash off the scars
That have soaked in our skin
And look up to the stars
And pray that we do not wear too thin

But every now and again,
Through the cracks of the asphalt
And cement
A blossom will sprout.
And the clouds will begin to part
So that the forgiven misgivings and
Misfortunes of the past shine through
And when the world stops
And we are suspended in time
We are reminded of what is up above us

We are made to marvel
at the wonders of the Sky

It was in my mother’s father’s final days when Beckham curled it in against Greece
It should have been wrapped up months or at least minutes prior
But for the English
Football is a beautiful form of torture
Some relief in the dark and painful last of his days
It may sound dramatic from the outside
But from the inside
When you’re in on the secret
Football has always been the beautiful game for a reason
And fate was sealed that day

The infamous Zidane headbutt
It came at a time when I was realising people aren’t perfect and heroes are human
For me, not a disgrace, but a lesson
The world’s greatest are also flawed

Lampard 2010 World Cup
It was over the line
I know it
You know it
But the greatest journeys all have their ups and downs
Their misfortunes and their injustices
Our time is nigh
It’s coming home

The psychopathic work ethic of Ronaldo
The glue on the boots of Messi
The precision of the Pirlo pass
The ‘Why always me?’
The ‘You’ll never walk alone’
The wins, the losses
The joy, the heartbreak
The frustration of supporting a yo-yo that never goes all the way up
An ode to my forever unmentioned Plymouth Argyle
The screamers, the blunders
From Thierry to Titus Bramble
Alonso to Okocha
The once-club-record-signing whose name now evades you
The heroes, the villains
The naive dream that maybe one day you’ll make it
And the hope that maybe this will be our year
The diving, the referees, the relegations, the failure
The 4-0 thrashings by the rivals, the penalties and quarter finals

I don’t know why I do it to myself
But I know that I wouldn’t have it any other way
This is the beautiful game
This is football

Once there was a lonely crow,
Who fell in love with the nightingale's broken soul
Bewitched by his otherwordly beauty and frailty
She yearned for his song to possess of her body

The nightingale fell in love with the crow's genuine affection
Of how she visited every day to listen to his misfortunes
She accepted his whole being despite of his imperfections
A broken bird like him doesn't deserve to have salvation

They shared a special bond, no one in this world could understand
One moment of their affection is eternity in Time's hand
The two understood that Fate abhorred their unlikely passion
And one night, they knew, everything came to a conclusion

"Sing with me, my love", the nightingale hums
"For this is a memorable night  I wish that would last"
The crow who does not sing, sang a song full of love
Two incompatible birds wove their melodious sounds

"Will you hold my hand while I sleep?", the tired nightingale pleads
The crow nodded her head, not looking at his misery
While holding his hand, she promised of unending songs of devotion
The nightingale closed his eyes and dreamed of their reunion

we’ll destroy ourselves
for a feeling
of being completely disconnected
from all of you
from ourselves
we fear you we fear ourselves
our reflections spit hate
haunting us
nightmares of that same face
and running
and ourselves
you are we are
what we’re running from
and we’ll destroy ourselves for a moment
to get away from disasters
mishaps, misfortunes
evils
damage in doses
our restlessness
insomniacs in love
with destroying ourselves
we’re running we’re hiding
as long as we can forget for just a moment
just give me that moment
and all will be well
take me softly  destroy me slowly

The wind is picking up
On this peaceful night
My tea is half empty
Or half full
I can never make up my mind

I think of you before the sun rises
My sleepless nights
Have given me superthoughts
Existential crises all around

While you were living life
I stayed behind like a hopeless fool
I blame my misfortunes on everyone
And especially you

But what I don’t want to hear
Or even think about
It’s the truth,  
I was never ready
Much less mature enough
To live hopeful life with you

When nobody cares what's going inside
your heart in moments you need to feel care
when you are supposed to be satisfied
at least when somebody notice you're there...

and you want to scream and let go the fear
but something has hanged in you on a string
and you want to feel the hug, and comfort
yourself with the same bizarre haunting thought

that you lead a life, full sunshine and light
that cannot be led by someone who's blind

you comfort yourself that you hear the birds
and voices, and music a deaf person don't

you comfort yourself you can easily achieve
the peak of a hill of which ******* dream

you comfort yourself that you feel the life
with all its misfortunes and cravings and trials
and when you're sitting at sunset on shore
you know the path of the sun's chosen your
unapparent figure as aim of its tour

and feeling of life can pierce to the bone
when you tries to fancy where're people who've gone...

the thing you learn, when a child enters your world
is pain, and suffering out of your control
also, laugh and smile for things bigger than yourself
and how you missed, needed that one thing, friend -
wet wipes…

mostly, one of the thousand uncontrollable misfortunes’ birth
the moment when the first spoon of avocado needed to end up on your shirt

I Drink! - to blot out the world,
I Drink! - to make sense of the pain.
I Drink! - to forget of my misfortunes,
I Drink! - to suppress the insane.

I Drink! - as life dealt me a meaningful crack,
I Drink! - as I am as low as I can go.
I Drink! - as no one could love me,
I Drink! - as no one would stoop that low.

I Drink! - for I need courage,
I Drink! - for i need the reassurance of man.
I Drink! - for to blot out the voices,
I Drink! - because I can.

Sheila..