"recuperate" poems
All things must end in time
Regardless of who when where or why
I am absolved by the setting sun
In this absence of light the darkness is All, the shadow is One
The Ray of intellect pulls pieces from the vast darkness
Attached by fear, chased by longing
We run in circles, burying Truth beneath flecks of meaningless illumination
Frustation, anger, the illusion of danger.
I am a fool.
I sit, surrounded by water in a rowboat without oars demanding control or salvation.
There is no alternative, no freedom of suffering from pain nor dehydration.
My body, my boat, my ocean are destined to fall to dust
The wise man knows this and worries not.
Just as the sun sets, the rays that illuminate are impermanent
All that ever was transitions to all that can never be
Beyond suffering, beyond pain
Beyond illusory words orchestrated on this page
It is held by a fabric that cannot be named
It resonates in our being as love
It’s the deepest darkness that holds the brightest light.
You may heed my words or continue the Material spin
It’s up to you where it ends or when you begin
But know this truly and deeply my friend,
When your travels are over
Lessons learned and suffering done
We will be made One
Destined to recuperate in the womb of the Sun.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:07 AM UTC
The weary daylight
Wants to retire
In the cradle of twilight
The limbs of rays
Can walk no further
It’s been a hectic day
Night shall drape it
With a soft embrace
For it to recuperate
To regain energy
For another arduous day
Daylight in slumber
Night takes over
To make it a grand finale
Silver light heals
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
But, darling, no one is understanding this.
My abilities are flowers and you're picking off all the petals
before I even have time to grow more.
My brain is a garden that I can only water when I'm alone,
so please understand that I will wilt and dry out when exposed
to too much social interaction for too long of a time.
I need time to recuperate, to grow, to freshen up.
Because a flower is no fun when it's wilted, and all the petals are gone.
(d.d.b)
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
We once dined together on goodly tables
and laughed together at funny fables.
Me was 'us'
back then when the fields were green
Love was the boss
we cared not who was the lord
as long as he could our peace afford.
Time grew taller
and bonding cords grew shorter
our once glittering tables
Decomposed on beign fed upon by unhealthy fables.
Like little foxes
forces of grudges and sentiment arising from resentment crept in
and the bond we once shared was threatened.
Those cherished days are long forgotten
relics of our lost bond keep us hurting
A little 'sorry' would have let it go
but it wasn't in the tune of our ego.
Regrets like matchets cut our hearts deep leaving wounds that time's woo can't recuperate.
rays of hope
make us cope
knowing someday someway we'll return to the land
Where 'me was we' and 'his was us.'
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:47 PM UTC
(Song title from Billie Holiday’s catalogue,
by Billie Holiday and Arthur Herzog)
God bless the child who stands alone,
God bless the child who never had a home,
God bless the child I see in the mirror,
Help him recover, help him remember.
God bless the child who fights to be heard,
God bless the child who suppresses his words,
God bless the child I once used to be,
Help him recapture, help him to regain.
God bless the child who runs from the pain,
God bless the child who sleeps out in the rain,
God bless the child I see in the photos,
Help him recuperate, help him restore.
God bless the child who has his own,
God bless the child who struggles to atone,
God bless the child I destroyed inside me,
Help me resolve all his anger to me.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
~
gold-encrusted jewels dance
on sun-drenched ocean stacks,
his rugged rocks etched deep
by her waves from far beneath,
and Pacific’s gusty breath;
his wind-swept islets burn,
aflame in sunset's dying embers,
like a lover's siren call.
his chiseled keyholes waiting
for the ciphered piercing rays
to collide in rushing tidal spray.
unlocking sunset's golden hour...
surging forth then quickly fades,
as sunbeam fingers slowly slip,
beneath horizon's sultry lip;
dusk unfolds in magic hues,
molten rose turns scarlet blues,
night descends as one by one,
we raptured star-kissed lovers
disembark this ferris wheel;
the curtain falls again,
with sea and rocks
rehearsing lines
to play again another day.
this their theatre
of the night,
performed by two alone,
beneath the moon
and starry sky.
~
*post script.
our last time through in 2004 was a blur on our way through to San Diego, an exhilarating ride for certain, with all of its bends and curves experienced top down in a convertible, but hardly doing justice to Big Sur’s stunning scene in mere hours; we told ourselves we simply had to return.
it took eleven years, and this time we spent a full five days and nights along Highway 1, towing a camper and slow-driving south from Monterrey all the curves to Morro Bay, exploring just about every hike and lookout in between; and in so doing, validating our return in a most satisfying way. Big Sur is officially off our bucket list! her sunsets were particularly rewarding, especially two... one enjoyed at sea level, from the sand and keyholes at Pfeiffer Beach day use area, the other delighted us from high above the ocean waves, seated at the picnic table of our cliff-side camp site at Kirk Creek Campground.
a most refreshing time to recuperate and recharge our spirits; five glorious days of disconnection, reconnecting to nature, each other and best of all, life at the speed of sunsets and star gazing; evenings spent round the campfire with no cell, no i-pad, no laptop, only the light of the fire, the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes!*
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
Life, the present tense
Pleasant and promising
Singular & plural
Fair blend of gender
Active noise, passive voice
The grammar of life
Life is intense,
Glowing and glorious;
Blue blown umbrella
For wide void exposure
Feather touch weather
For cool n’ calm respite
Illuminated one half
To eke out living
Glittering dark on other half
To rest and recuperate
Aroma of smiling flowers
Multicolor corona
Green rich panorama
Overseeing mountains
Rousing roaring oceans
Patrolling Hydro Power Puffs
Add bonus to the bevy
What a glamorous globe in space!
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
the second time i found her
it was in the midst of the grand staircase
she sat at the far edge overlooking the ballroom below
where many a face spun in wild dance
where many hearts fluttered on the verge of dreams
she cupped a single rose in her painted hand
its petals were cracked and dusty
and its scent had hints of rain
but she clutched it to her warm heart like adoration
saying softly that if she held it for long enough she could
give it life once again
i knew this to be true
but i feared the cost to her visionary soul
would it blind her to the tigers among the lillies in the ballroom
are we all not blind to the tragedy of happenstance
so i swept her up and rode into the night
to the shallow waters of the coast
where the salt of the sea could wash away the rose
cleanse the mortal wound that is such loves
but it was made of thicker smoke than that
and still you could smell a taste of rain on its dusty blue petals
i built a forest house that fall
and there i sat her to recuperate
but she only wanted to once again dance in the ballroom
with the faces of grandeur and the voices of naughty leasuire
'only a friend can debate you this tale'
is how i defended keeping her from that fate
once again we strove to gather words from the skies
as they fell like leaves abandoning their trees
once again she left in the spring
promising this time to take great cares with her pen and heart
i gave her a tender friends smile of my own as she had once done for me
and after she had faded down the summer road
i made my own way to the ballroom
because in secret i too longed to be lost in the swirling joys
the abandon of faces and names
of tigers dancing in the field of lillies
in a ballroom of trees
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
The limited palette of the January riverbank,
#nomakeup #nofilter
just the burst capillaries and thread veins
bare
A tired earthy visage,
still allures the blackbird and wren
who never truly got the hang
of saying when
and feast past decency
The idea is to recuperate
and re-emerge fresh and green
but truth seems more like this molasses mud
that hold boots firm
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 9:24 AM UTC
It took three seconds for you to shift my universe to lift me
Like a soft breeze under soft falling leaves closer
To a sun lit sky.
It took three months of try after try time after time,
Chasing anxieties with soft sighs, chasing hot gilt
With forgiving eyes .
It took all of my trust mustered together and all your warmth
And golden patience for me to find my worth,
For me to take this new love and give all of what I had left.
It took
A thousand sweet words to heal the hurt that ached within my chest.
And time , it always took time.
For me to give you the best me I thought I would never be again.
I was new and precious ,
coal under pressure deep beneath ground,
Until you dug me out wash me off and found
I glistened, and when I listened I really listened
I loved to hear you talk.
It took
All my patience to love you, all my endurance to face mistrust
all my strength to recuperate from all the promises you freely made
just to break .
It took all I could give to satisfy what you’d take
it took my everything to feel adequate when the easy way was your only way,
it took perseverance to hear it and try to deny that voice in the back of my mind
And **** it to tell myself that I was worth more than A friend you had *** with.
It took you to pull me up remember you’d call me your angel?
Well I had to grow wings to move on , the grounds to unstable.
It took you cutting me lose to face the sky willing and able.
It took realizing you were so weak, infantile, and feeble
To believe in the core of me I’m smart strong, capable.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
even a week is sometimes
not enough to recuperate
from a novel -
something has borrowed too much
time and expects its worth a miracle of
a penny found on the road of
the eternal walker:
long the road toward a majesty
of the riches...
whatever novel it might be -
and with it,
a paralyzing ****** of doubts -
whether sober or intoxicated,
not even when: wine and music
and a book of poetry suffices...
just like now:
Beethoven, kalimotxo,
and the preferred gems by
Frank O'Hara to suit the music...
chez jane and blocks...
if ever there is something
missing in terms of
Beethoven: it's a voice reading
a poem,
but not reading it,
not like a Beatnik who would
read in the furore of jazz
in the past century...
anything more than what
is still not a whisper...
and like some farce of
the sword of Damocles...
the pen of Dickens...
not the labours of a novel,
no... not the month's long
journey into the labyrinth...
music and drinking
simultaneously with a novel
will never work...
but a poem can...
my god... some wine some
classical music and... words...
when there's music and wine
who needs words like
labyrinths when:
just on the tip of the hour's
passing: a bird in the form
of a poem...
all i can say in the most mundane
phrasing...
but i have capitulated
all prior to thrill and audacity
for a novel...
a month's labour:
and silence...
a soul in such hiding...
feels hardly a thought necessary
to reinvent itself in its prior
activity:
an mingling of wine
and music and words: come and go...
like all novels:
as much an accomplishment
of the writer, as an "accomplishment"
of the reader...
and is it so wrong
to not be agitated with emotion
that: a month's worth of
base arithmetic sentences -
the logic of: once upon a time
as the logic: the end...
sanctity of prose:
that sensible nature of that
sensible afternoon
of that sensible life,
of that: unlived crucifix
of a shadow's confiscate;
routine and sitting
akimbo on some far removed
stage:
of a sea knocking
on the door of earth -
seeking rhythm -
or a heart.
as mundane as this language:
i'm not going
to find a different language
to change this evening,
even though not awe:
or relief... but a paralyzing
doubt has overpowered me...
and, come to think of it:
that's still much more
than a heart's worth of
sitting's comforts in
the armchair of apathy.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 7:25 PM UTC
1.
I never saw you on the day you were born
I wasn't there.
I never met you in your youth
I wasn't there.
I probably won't see you on your last day
I know not how the current will carry tidings.
2.
Yet, I never saw such life in anyone's eyes
As I see in you.
I never felt such intense flow in a pure heart
As I do in you.
There is no way to fully express
How happy I am with the milk of your kindness.
All I want, is to ride that carriage with you
And drink of love's potion, keep you sated.
3.
Come, take my hand and let me hold you
Don't you crowd us out so; allow to breathe
Our universe expands as enchanting melodies, we share
Shut-tight eyes leave a crazy stab of an afterimage.
Upon the tracks, lies the truth in broken pieces
Time to gather my singularly talentless wits
Recuperate from rhythmic clacking of euphoria
A drab shoelace in flat, brown mud, is how you see me.
There's a part of my journey that includes you
An integral part of my existence seeks that spark
I have seen you, without yet seeing you!
How can I know that failure dogs not this adventure...
Can you really not see how extraordinary this is?
It may count as fiasco if absent pursuit of mysterious core...
4.
Without you, I'd be on an express train to nowhere.
At least, you're still there
(alive :)
S T, 3 May 2013
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
Honestly
I've been honest
with you
since the beginning,
I think,
but there is this
lingering
note on your face
that keeps me
in dis array
about what was
true and what was
fake,
Can you give
me a hand
and stand
in a way
that displays
a truth about
the inner ways
beneath that gaze?!
PLEASE
try something
like this
or that,
like,
Because I'd
hate to see
what you mean
to really
say
is that you might
be waiting
for someone
who was displaced,
Or is that just me?
Long gone and late
in a phase
that's out of place
and perhaps,
well,
my love,
with your torn soul in
two
and into my lap
like a warning tap
on the top
of my arm,
It told me,
It told me not
to trap you
because,
well,
what's
Harmful to you
is often too
strong on me,
four weeks times
three,
or maybe four?
Oh god and
with these mistakes
(as you know),
I seemingly need
it to bleed,
stream down
my eyes
like tears
and in fear,
Because time
is often
too long here,
(As you know),
Honey,
can you hear me?
Deep inside please
give me a sign
because it was coming
to be about that time
in the road!
And that fork
told me
that it's going to
need more
from you
to recuperate
because
so much time
and effort
makes repair
so much longer,
Because sweetest,
the love I have
is the trash on its way,
the ash still burning in the tray,
The blast
still shaking
with waves
but,
the mast is
facing the wrong
way.
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 6:01 PM UTC
**Love the purple morning light,
that spills happiness around us,
when night pitches its black tent,
it's happy time to rest-
and recuperate; birth and death
are the entrance and exit-
on the stage of life, even if one doesn't
like to retreat to the backstage, passing death's door,
it's mandatory, learn to live,
with these truths, a part of the stagecraft.
Travelers we are, through repeated cycles of lives,
we buy and sell, happiness and grief,
barter wisdom for pain, once in a while
and get richer beyond expectation.
At the end of the transactions,
purity of our karmas decides-
whether one gained or lost,
only by helping others bear their burden, one gains.**
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
Fate that's placed can often fade
as not all future states of intent are set.
The red direction changes status
with which short term paths to step ahead,
when we seek highs but lows commence.
A complex collective mix and match
of varied voices within each pack.
Try to listen softly as your intuition leads,
as ego driven voids a balanced clarity.
Are we lost in the broth life serves us,
between the choice of salt or sweet.
Drawn towards distant points imagined
through our lost and found realities.
Find space in time to recuperate,
when you let the mind wander and lust,
remembering we're here to master masts.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 7:37 AM UTC
The mid noon sky bleeds out; it bruises in flames.
Arsonists hold their gassers to my face.
In their grisly field of vision, I am a delectable
vapor, born to flit away.
Regard not the orange cones, nor the caution tapes:
these gates hold little significance to them.
(Then the other 'a-word' comes to mind: anarchists)
Prior to this, they had presented themselves
as chess pieces to fall in love with—little do they know,
I've an animus for them. As stupid as I may appear,
I know it's a game!
Unzipping out of incognito mode, they have unleashed
their razor blade. They whizz their wings.
Here they come, coming for me.
Here I go again: counting sheep,
blinking for one whole eternity.
Oh doctor! I'm in dire need of your vampiric syringe.
Swill my peaking adrenaline— at this rate, I'll go mad.
I shall never recuperate.
Mollify my entirety.
Teach me to rollick like angels do. I beg you.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 5:30 PM UTC
To the one up in the sky
I know you might be busy
But I need you to hear me.
I know I haven't believed in you much before
And I apologize
But if you're really there
And you can really make miracles happen,
I need you to hear me.
My cousin needs you, tonight
And maybe writing my thoughts in a poem
Can construct my ideas of how you can help me.
He is lying alone
And he's living off monitors.
He needs you now more than ever.
I need you to hear me.
Help him find his way.
Help him recuperate.
Help him see the light of day.
I need you to help him.
I need you to hear me.
*And in these moments of anxiety and helplessness
I find myself praying to a God I don't even know exists*
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
I speak to you during the day, you listen but you remain silent. At night I hear a familiar voice, his shift begins when I close my eyelids.
Sometimes in my dreams i see these bright flashes that illuminate, what appears to me to be the sky. But the lightning strikes are a disguise, my subconscious creates to fool my eyes. The action of my neurons firing, are mistaken by my mind as lightning.
I watch the sky in disbelief, for the light show seen is so inspiring. I'm captivated by my thoughts, as they travel along my neural wiring.
My subconscious works overtime to keep me from discovering its deception. But this false reality my subconscious made, is a needed form of protection.
As I dream my mind and body get the rest that's truly needed. So I can recuperate the energy, that the previous day has depleted.
My subconscious is a narrator, that explains my life without subtitles. Threw my dreams on this screen, plays a movie that I'm forced to watch. So truly when do I get sleep, when I'm in my dreams, and I'm deep in thought.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
Hey its me again
I just need to vent
Its time my mind got right
So I can breath again
But things begin
To take a toll
And sometimes you can feel so small
That it crushes you
Punches you in the gut
Followed with a uppercut
Like what the ****
Can I get a break?
Can I get some time to recuperate?
I guess this is life
These ups and downs
The smiles and frowns
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 1:08 AM UTC
I told her, "I wanna write a song with you."
Her immediate reaction didn't seem very musical. But she managed to wash down her reluctance with a glass of my enthusiasm. It looked a little too hard to swallow though.
Between you and me... I think she just didn't want to hurt my feelings...
Knew that anything musical we might share in this space would come at a price. Having played piano in the past, she knows…. that every… key... requires effort. Every chord requires contact, every verse must be attacked every note ... needs impact.
Channeling all that we are and hearing the universe equally and oppositely react. Like science ... She knows there's chemistry in this musical contract.
And between you and me... I think she's scared to do that.
She houses pipes that were silenced a while back. Now all noise is mute, all lyrics refute, and the tones are all flat.
She is a little mermaid.
A villain stole her voice at the promise of companionship… and nower days what a bargain that is. String up your vocal chords and I'll meet each pained utterance with a kiss. Make a hostage of your own tongue and I will grant you bliss. I'll be the hiccup in your throat, the stutter in your sentence my sweet nothings will be the only sound you hear. The only tune you’ll dance to. The only lyrics you know.
She ... was choked, by an individual who was more shark than he was man, more predator that he was person, and after all that submersion she can’t look at love without feeling like she’s downing.
Between you and me, I think when her fin was torn into a pair of feet she found it difficult to find any other fish in the sea. Violence is nobodies natural habitat. But like I said was silenced a while back. She made to believe that like every note, each future affection would require impact. And between you and me… I really wanna change that.
I told her “I wanna write a song with you”. Not to test whether she is musically faceted but rather to see if she is still passionate. I wanted to see if my prayers had reached you yet… I wanted you to be okay. Little mermaid who was washed away. I wanted to is you fire stayed, to see you recuperate. In your time at sea you overcome bigger waves. So… sing.
Understand that are the most wonderful lyricist and your pitch and tone are not a akin heartache and woe, you can be loud. Be proud in knowledge that any music you make is only the overture, only the beginning to a symphony called “done with this **** I will hear no requiem, you’ll play no finale. The stage is not a battleground. Let there be no more tears in which to drown, sing! Sing and make sea sirens jealous of how mermaids sound
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
Sufferer for life
Lived it alone days and days on end
Came through a lot
The suicide attempts
Learnt to pick self back up
Time and time again
You'll still encounter those that don't understand
It's in your head not a broken arm
Can find moments to break out
However bottom line of dragging heavy grief and doubt
Like a stone that wants to sink and drown no matter if any joy tries to save
Gotta keep on
Can't have rest days
Always something to do
Emotional maze to work through
When all you want to do is be alone recuperate or shout
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
Heaven full of dark gloomy patches,
Yonder a fierce storm approaches.
Here I stand overflowing of youth,
Agonies of life they say are sooth.
Lo! the storm impulsed me so,
Leaves n' branches stooped all low.
Hither I lie yelling of pain,
Efforts to recuperate all go in vain.
Little they know what feels being solitary,
Men do praise my flowers in flattery.
Tasting the troughs of life being doomed,
Reflected how I was once ***** and bloomed.
The violent storm was followed by rain,
Threw off all dust rejuvenated every vein.
Days passed : now my curve is gone,
And Lo! here I stand up on my own.
I reckon from the heaven a reminder was sent,
Sorrows and cheers of this life are never constant.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
After every step
The grass attempted to
Recuperate
To bring itself back standing
But certain patches
Had already given up that dream
Long ago
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
O Lord, I know and see that I’m powerless
to fight against circumstance’s mountain;
meet needs; anoint me with oils of gladness
as those, who mourn -before God in Zion-.
Rest Your mantle of praise upon me now;
allow me to recuperate my strength and sing
mightily of Your goodness, grace and mercy.
For You alone, dominate my heart’s strings
with the knowledge of the scarlet thread,
that binds my Life’s existence to You;
enlighten my spirit with more of Your Truth,
insuring that enemy traps… I will eschew.
Give me ‘beauty for ashes’, soon and suddenly;
from my sadness and hurt, I will have victory!
I will never possess a spirit of fainting,
since I’m His child, on a spiritual trajectory
that insures my ability to overcome troubles.
Avoiding bitterness from my experiences of pain,
I’ve felt the healing force my soul required-
found alone in the power… of His Holy Name!
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Isa 61
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Can't fall asleep
looking at the ceiling/
like how do I reach the top
with correct appealing/
resisting a rest
I confess
until I'm non other
dealing with the best/
feeling/
I did it it was my decision/
I said I was the greatest
I hadn't even finish/
Part truth of the statement
barley even started
Belated secret garden
Draped in decent garments
somewhere in the middle
tarnished/
An unidentified target/
Illusionary tales/
remunerate than recuperate
hoping I fare well/
thus the only way/
This the stuff wich
legends are made/
Against all odds through the opposite end of the cave/
1 verse a thousand
possibly how can he sustain/
Stay the course specifically
officially to obtain/
Rewards within the parameters
Invisible rules Of the game/
Visual subliminal critically
to attain/
The critically acclaimed/
Regardless of what
the critics be saying/
Goals agenda
to what ever it is your aim/
One in the same
With particulars bitter sweet/
Smoke and mirrors Vividly
Conspiracy? What do you see?/
Believe half of that
The Better half
you have to seek/
They took it for granted
But don't take this from me.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC