"mundanely" poems
You were beaten and bruised,
for the sinful likes of me;
three nails pierced Your flesh,
as You were hung… at Calvary.
An unthinkable act of Love
was cruelly executed for me;
for You took the punishment,
that had been… meant for me!
With forgiveness on Your breath,
You requested a pardon for those,
who carried out judgment on You,
as a death sentence was imposed.
A spear was ****** in Your side,
as Your demise was underscored;
when it was mundanely removed,
both blood and water had poured.
[chorus]
On The Cross of Calvary,
Love was brokenhearted;
Salvation was paid in full;
Grace’s flow was started.
[bridge]
We don’t fully understand,
God’s goodness towards us;
Sin’s debt was wiped out,
by the sacrifice of Jesus.
We adore Him, since Christ
had truly loved us first;
He bore the painful brunt
of payment for Sin’s curse.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
1 Pet 2:24; Gal 3:10-14; 1 John 4:19
Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
I took a rest on a ruddy bench
Aside the lady with the looking glass
Till a little blessing came tapping
With an outstretched hand telling
Begging change in exchange the floras
The lady, amused with the child
Showed him a wise saying
That was mundanely swaying
As the words came out
The water of life pouring
As the true meaning he learned
From the lady's interpreted word
That moment the personas shared
With time who couldn't stay
Could determine the fate
As it wasn't too late
I took a rest on the ruddy bench
Flowers, words and lives were traded
Familiarity grew on the streets
Where strangers pass or meet
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
I sleep during the day between the nights I feel alive.
The same mundanely chaotic dream...
We're holding hands and whispering sweet nothings.
fast forward, we're racing across old country roads.
You're inviting me to breakfast, and i am racing across the town.
Only to show up and make a complete *** out of myself.
My body becomes a healing flame, when we walk your hand in mine.
Of my life i can't say that I remember all that much.
But what i know is i wasn't truly alive till i knew "what is love"
When i made you smile, i felt the entire world fall away.
it was then, i was reborn with 5 whole new senses.
All the grays i stared at turned beautiful vibrant hues.
Your meals were a work of art, Fireworks exploding in my mouth.
You brushed my hand, and i felt poetry radiating through my flesh.
it wasn't till i looked into your opalescent eyes,
that was when i saw the world in all its unfathomable beauty.
I know i am nothing to you now, but if you see this i want you to know...
Thank you :)
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 10:24 PM UTC
We arrive home
and I see you look over there.
I've been so happy
just spending time with you.
It's been just the two of us,
a welcome escape.
It's not often this happens,
when we get time alone
without interruption
from texts or a phone call.
But tonight we are free
and we have the most
mundanely grand plans.
And I look forward to them
with utmost glee.
But then it happens.
We pull in and you say
you're going there
"just for a minute."
I'm not fooled,
it's never just a minute.
Our plans are derailed,
I'm left to bring in the groceries
alone.
And do the dishes,
alone.
We said we'd tackle them
together,
tag-team the massive pile.
Yet here I am,
alone.
And I get left feeling like
a complete and utter *****
because I'm upset at the fact
that you want to go home
to tell your parents good night.
I just want this to be your home.
And I'm afraid
it never will be.
You'll always have to go there
and we'll always have some
sort of interruption.
And I'll never have you
all to myself, never,
and sometimes I'll be left
feeling completely *******
alone.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
I sat hard-pressed against
the plastic seat on the Metro,
green line to Branch Ave,
feeling the heat
of all the dozens of bodies that surrounded me,
5:30 PM and everyone
making headway for home after a
long, hot work day.
The swampy humidity
clung to my arms like sticky tack.
I wiped my brow with the sleeve of my
blazer
and listened to some 90s
R & B on my iPod as I
c
o
u
n
t
e
d
d
o
w
n
the exits till I could
free myself from
the suffocating crowd.
It was no day that was even remotely extraordinary,
no life-changing series of events,
no incredible people I had met;
nope, just commuting back to the SE quadrant of
town as I had
every day that summer.
I looked up and took
a snapshot with my mind;
I remember exactly
how that sliver of time
felt to me,
how it looked,
smelledsoundedtasted
as I realized my days in D.C. had begun to feel
like the norm,
that I had grown accustomed to the
claustrophobic train cabins,
the repetitive street names,
and
10% sales tax.
So suddenly there was this
catastrophic
timeturning
momentous magnanimous monumental magic
of the most mundanely minuscule moment,
as ordinary crawled up my veins
and absorbed me in it.
Somehow
squeezed.in.between
the rush-hour,
the annoyance, impatience, and near-suffocation
felt like
home.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Earth: our ominous all-mother,
she, the greater good:
the interminable fountain out of which stems life and vivacity itself
always reaching
and grasping for the abstruse azure heavens above.
her hair never stops growing. the mites and parasites never cease to fester her scalp. She is growing and changing and rotting and dying. but where death comes, there is no long interval until more
life.
the liveliness is everywhere; it promotes to all faces and regions and niches. Multiplying, begetting, propagating. all for the greater good of our orb and its inhabitants. Most dwellers are humble and solicitous toward her, and learn to keep a vigilant eye
as she can be so
forceful and violent.
She does have, however, one rascal who believes that the globe belongs all to Himself.
He is the man.
He has a masterful gift, yes. He is profound and competent. He forges the impractical query into a conclusive answer. He, however, is also egocentric and pompous, and He sees her as a specimen to which
He has the rights to dismember and pervert.
He makes a mess of her unique vistas. He tramples and stamps on her face, running about as if she were the coliseum in which the gods gather to view the Species fight itself to extinction. He works her to the
core, always asking for more, more, more, more,
until she has little left to give.
But she never loses courage in His asinine and moronic views and His sprawling village,
for she created Him
out of herself
she is the framework out of which the mind is able to mundanely manifest itself.
Without her, He would be nothing.
And she is so immeasurably loving and benevolently caring and forevermore giving; for
She is life, she is love.
We are love.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
My best friend Steve
had a rat named Beulah
and although she wore the white pelt
and pert whiskers of a domestic pet
she never generated the heroics
of Disney’s menagerie;
rather, she’d
unwind her days doing a scurrying
hunch'n'hop
around the perimeter of the living room.
As a native Pittsburgh rat
Beulah escaped the bizarre fate
of her Baltimore cousins
who resided in neighborhoods
where the residents fished for rodents
using Kmart rods and big steel hooks
baited with cheese and rancid bacon.
Instead, she died rather mundanely
like many rats
at the end of her life's only adventure
fleeing the tame existence
of the living room
for the fresh air of the driveway
where the rear wheels
of Steve's dad's pickup truck
flattened and whirled
poor Beulah
in a counterclockwise
spinfest
of radial belted
frenzy
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
You've been crying into your pillow for weeks now
because he-
Never mind.
Today, you walked into a grocery store
and stared
at all the people
buying broccoli and shampoo and dish-washing liquid.
All those people with their own
chapters and textures,
their own loves and hates and
personal heartbreaks,
all their embarrassing habits.
Mundanely gathered in this over-lit shop...
You realize that for this short while
all your lives were quietly mingling.
And then your heart sighs
with relief because
you've done it, finally.
You've realized something small but so very
important.
It's quite simple, really.
The world is larger than your heartbreak.
(You smile because you know that things just might be okay.
Eventually)
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
I long to see me
As you do,
Entirely foreign and
Mundanely beautiful.
I wish to trace
The curves of my lettering,
Attempting to decode
A message I have already
Memorized.
I have already unraveled
All of my mysteries but you
Still startle at each creak
Of the floor, each squeak
Of the door.
Nevertheless,
That elsewise wonder
Is only reserved for
Strangers.
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 12:00 PM UTC
*When the evening glimmers day slowly turns dead
I peek at my watch sweet six in my head
Walk in windy sprint in cheerful childly gait
To reach home in time meet you sweet mate!
When the few hours seeming like weeks
Roll out prolonged till they reach six
I pick up my bag leave the tedium behind
To reach home in time my sweet mate in mind!
When the day unfolds bland time slowly ticks
The clock acts too lazy to reach the magic six
I hold on the belief the evening won’t be late
To ferry me in time to my waiting sweet mate!
When nothing seems to tick except my weary watch
As it trundles into six I say thank you very much
For though you ran so lazy reached six at any rate
To tell the time is ripe to rush home for sweet mate!
When each hour passes mundanely alike
Work drags slowly painting the day prosaic
Past its burned hours beyond the toil’s sweat
Chimes the magical six it’s time for sweet mate!*
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Gazing at a mundane paper
The mundane eyes came across
A mundane error in a mundane question
In a mundane hall
The mundane boy returned
To his mundane house
He had a mundane lunch
With his mundane pet mouse
When the mundane moon came out
Of the mundane sky
He put on Eleanor Rigby on his mundane phone
(As he did every mundane night)
And slept mundanely
In the mundane moonlight
This is how the mundane boy
Lived his mundane life
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 12:34 PM UTC
the worms crawl into our brains
as we passively accept our reality
the worms crawl into our brains
as we lead our lives so mundanely
the dream for which we reach
proves that we're asleep
and as it molds itself into a nightmare
we realize, alas, too late
of the horrors we create
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
Beauty, i've realized, is not confined to one singular moment
Nor one singular place.
Not one precious moment in time but perhaps a web of them.
It's intrinsic to nature.
Confounded through and possibly limited by the dullness of people.
We need too much.
We desire emptily.
We set definitions leaving little space for the outlier.
But beauty, in its purest form, is the outlier--a great composition of them.
For what we set our eyes forth to blatantly, routinely, and mundanely is often the most beautiful, masked by our innate desire for novelty.
Mar 27, 2020
Mar 27, 2020 at 4:02 PM UTC
truth-
the direction of my energy is going to more productive places
than reserving hours each day to mourn a thing that used to be
second truth-
you were rooted more in my mind than in my heart
which is why i've thought so many things for you aside from true love,
which would be wishing you the best.
resentment is easier to harness than open sadness
but now i see that the heart must be open & wounded
before it can harden.
(i tried to skip all that...)
pangs still come
deeply through music or mundanely while turning onto a given street
saudade will strike; dismissed weakly via anger or fruitfully through
mindfully acknowledging these
parting truths:
there is much for me to continue learning and exploring inside of myself, and a day will come where another soul in this Universe will present itself through the kind of love I need, so painstakingly clear and this experience will be looked back upon in its appropriate light- a necessary painful stepping stone rung on the ladder that prepared me for what I've always wanted.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
1
i am the space expanding non-stop at the risk of losing history
and what remains of its stardust.
my sorrows expand with it; my vastness grows wider,
deeper by the day to accommodate
an uninvited houseguest.
2
i fear the act of going through my bones
like a bundle of endless, wistful letters;
some for burning.
some for throwing away.
some for breaking through
my ashen skin.
how can i be both limited and boundless —
it is no magic — just mundanely human.
the thought descends like poison eating at my backbone
until i am no more than a bygone, spineless caryatid.
3
yet again i take down the cosmos,
pick it apart
and in my hands, manage to turn it
into something distastefully prosaic —
turn it into a disassembled being.
all this wordless sadness has made me ancient. alien. unidentified.
4
i am the space expanding non-stop at the risk of losing history;
i have long stopped trying to make any sense to myself and
there is no greater joy
than to be a perplexity.
amid it all, i tiptoe back and forth
between the ice-thin parts of celestine silence
and the static ringing of incomprehensible poetry.
the ground where i stand on breaks;
i float with no direction.
5
i am the space expanding endlessly; i grow wider and deeper
to make room for vaster sorrows —
if only a sigh is enough to hold me
as i tear it all down. tear it all quietly. inward. once and for all.
if only a sigh is enough to hold me
as i implode in tragic,
breath-taking cosmic colors.
Nov 26, 2021
Nov 26, 2021 at 1:59 AM UTC
You take so much of it,
From me.
In my daydreams,
with a script imagined out of idealism,
filled with a seamless string of events
almost as if every tiny detail has its own biography.
The way a scene is choreographed for an awfully flawless performance,
like a single foot positioned an inch too far would make the masterpiece a fiasco.
In perfectly crafted scenarios too fragile for them to be acted out in reality.
In the songs I listen to,
not from the lyrics, no.
But in the rhythms that sound like my heartbeats,
whenever I hear your laugh that is mundanely common,
yet so notable that I still think of you whenever I hear it from other people.
A tune that feels like a glimpse of ethereal blessing, but still unharmonious for other people.
In melodies that resonate how it feels like to hear beauty in frequencies that others simply overlook.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC