"regenerated" poems
Soft wooden pews and the white dogwood tree,
Arched ceilings and Mother’s whisper Tetelestai
Making surprise harmonies with the sinner beside me.
Black preaching robes saying Grace is for free,
Now pass the gold plate so the Church can supply,
Soft wooden pews and the white dogwood tree.
Regenerated through love-on this we agree,
Shouting Hymn 22 children’s voices blend high,
Making surprise harmonies with the sinner beside me.
Drunkards and Deacons with Thou and with Thee,
Starched shirts and white pearls all standing by,
Soft wooden pews and the white dogwood tree.
Released from all of our chafe and debris,
With roars of repentance and relief we reply,
Making surprise harmonies with the sinner beside me.
I am whole I am new through His ministry,
I know I can never this truth deny.
Soft wooden pews and the white dogwood tree.
Making surprise harmonies with the sinner beside me.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
tears fall
your name i call
gone
frozen in time
wasting away life
heartbroken.
outright cry
strikes at night
lost.
always lost
confused.
anxious.
scared.
lies.
knife
acts like
gasoline , poured on me
cast a match
flip the latch
to the prison cell of lost hearts
murmur my name
before i slain
the wretched beast
whisper into
the dead alleyways
a revival unavoidable
n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ l̶o̶s̶t̶.
c̶o̶n̶f̶u̶s̶e̶d̶
a̶n̶x̶i̶o̶u̶s̶.
s̶c̶a̶r̶e̶d̶.
more deceit.
cold like a
untouched angel
away from the worst danger
i am born again.
purged.
regenerated.
strengthened.
renewed.
rebirth.
(b.d.s.)
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
The poem was inspired by a particular photo of the WT C, and after that by my first visit to the 9/11 Memorial. On the day of 9/11, I was working about a diagonal mile away, and from our windows, we could see people jumping to their death.
Open sky annulled
to bordered lines of
uptown edges,
worldview momentarily
forcibly redefined by
memories of buildings and sadder days,
recollections of pillars of biblical smoke rising
A photograph
makes me look up,
and sit down historically,
need to catch a breath,
to rest mentally,
upon a storied small bridge's steps,
that I well recall,
a disappeared street stoop.
all were rubble then and once
upon that day.
Wear, tear, and older eyes distill perspective,
but the hardy heart is hardly stilled
by the recognizable gray upon
bon vivant gray reflective surfaces of
memories of buildings and sadder days
So today, on a reborn street,
I rest upon reconstituted speckled curbstone,
the city's lowered down ledges,
the city's lowered down-town boundaries,
constantly redrawn, but
nonetheless, always rebuilt from their own
regenerated stony compost,
and the NY passersby doesn't even notice
a man, head in hands,
silently weeping, thinking that:
We throw away so much we should have kept.
We keep so much we should have thrown away.
Lose keepsakes, but keep our mysterious sadnesses
locked away in compartments that open only to
benedictions uttered in ancient tongues.
Make your own list,
be your own curator,
catalogue visions of sophomoric triumphs,
museum mile pile
those early poetic drafts,
be unafraid of memories
raw and ungentrified,
overlaid, buried underneath
postmortem of dust-piles of senior critiques
Finally went downtown to see
where the blessed water falls
into catacomb pits that once
were the foundations
of buildings that ruled the cityscape,
downtown anchors
for a modern city that exists
only because it was built on
million year old granite bedrock
Stone monuments are stolid, discrete.
Memories are of grayed, frayed edge consistency.
Negatives resurrected that survive digitally,
all blend synthetically, layer upon layer,
essence distilled in a single,
black and white photograph
that serves to
disturb complacency,
awaken stilled pain,
reflections suppressed,
are restored
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
So, up to Liverpool,
pretty cool,
I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings.
When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel,
I remember it well,
so that's where I'll start, move my feet,
it's a quick walk to Bold Street.
Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks,
regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city,
which is pleasing,
the only downside is it's ****** freezing!
The nights out are decent too,
this where Liverpool really pulls through.
Matthews Street, can't be beat,
or Concert Square,
where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars.
Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population,
going down to Wolstenholme Square,
great memories, shame it's no longer there.
Capital of Culture, lots to explore,
the council wants to restore the city centre,
Liverpool One is second to none.
New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops,
new bars to entertain us,
new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers.
A modern shopping centre to walk through,
have they really called it Everton Two?
Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's,
funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place.
Lads in black Lacoste trackies,
in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success,
wearing Fila and Ellesse,
it was called casual,
the style went national.
A city of myths legends,
some more tongue in cheek but still unique.
A sock robber from Kirkby,
is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree.
What about Carragher's tattoo?
He's blue born and bred,
is Paul McCartney actually dead?
I know it's a clichè, but I must say,
it isn't a mere rumour,
there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour,
wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say.
A witty city that's for sure, come and visit,
you'll have everything you need and more.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
Every day I reveal
I give a little more
something special, so real to life
a different side of life
those pieces of me no one can steal
every night I'm where it takes me
to where I find that part of me
that needs no excuses
nothing to change
nothing to add to
But what if it isn't the truth? What if I am a product of fear? When I look at my keyboard, I remember things I cannot say aloud. That is the darkness.
nothing to subtract
the fairy of all things sharp and dangerous.
a day in the sun a light
That casts no shadow,
Pushing through all darkness
To reveal the only truth
a smackeral here,
a smidgen there
i stitch into the weave
as my truth
as i can bare,
leaving me naked
and bereft
but as a milliner of words
so fine
I stitch together a tapestry
of twine
upon a silken bed of shadow
the words, they matter
on the morrow
Twisted threads of golden thought
weaves crimson tears
that taught
the one that orates
as they weave
leaves a pattern
that can't deceive
cleft, my palette
of words, sacred,
alone but not forsaken-
created, awakened and tasted
and i stop for a while
to taste the silence between words
the echoes of my steps
roaming inside a dream
Chinese boxes with corners that
domino like the seals
of envelopes, they
stick to sticky
seals of words,
telling of straw earth.
sinkhole, the word frightened me as a child
even now I tread lightly
allaying the inevitable
i tread lightly, lightly... allaying
the inevitable
babble of...
"lustful gushing
of wordlove
that cascades
from my brain
enervated, regenerated
obligated
to explain
the gears
and cogs
of this
clockwork world
write....again
and again
the never ending
refrain
oh listen to the silence
listen
between the words
from
the death of one breath;
to
the birth of the next
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.
Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 7:45 PM UTC
Social relations.
Fading, dissipating.
Regenerated and rebuilding.
Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.
Talking of brighter days with different time lines.
Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.
All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.
It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.
When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.
Anything to fill this void.
The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings.
Constantly picking at the scab.
Digging for one last laugh.
A final smile.
The perfect ending for the night we might forget.
We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates.
Evolutionary socialization.
Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.
Open eyes burning for something tangible.
Awake and unaware.
Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius.
Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.
We speak of ideas.
We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.
We dream of what it is and what it could be.
All seeking growth.
All staying just within the caution tape.
Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.
I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.
My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.
In the end it's just another day.
Contributions minimal.
Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.
They're Remnants.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
Hazel eye's
Illuminating
High on life
Embracing
Soaring
Exploring
Breathes under water
Swims on the breeze
Artistic
Futuristic
Regenerated
Cut from the collective
Energized
A shooting star
Exploding into colour
Come alive!
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
***There was music in his voice
as he whispered his name in ancient tones
straight through my core
My spirit danced
as it basked in familiarity
and pain
I could feel the music reconstitute
a desiccated heart
as it regenerated belief in people...in him
In an instant, I knew what I was once sure of
I knew that, sight unseen, I was bonded
with a soul born in tandem
Circumstance be ******
there will be love
for I already loved you
The second your name sung to my essence
and I realized...
you loved me***
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
I never truly believed this would happen to me.
Aware of it, I suppose but only in abstract notions.
You're like my unique potion.
But I am running out of your liquid in my bottle
and with every major use I drain you out.
I never thought it would dawn on me.
The setting sun of a finished love.
A chapter turning and I am the page mid-flight
feeling your existence coming undone...
and regenerated into something I can mold.
My mental attachments transferred into art.
And through this my other half,
may be born.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
Pay attention to what God wants to show you;
embrace the regenerated self created in God’s image;
a wandering mind of distractions, unable to focus,
leads you to trouble and and adverse situations,
when not following the principles of Christ Jesus.
To sincerely follow your heart’s desire,
while avoiding the issues of double-mindedness,
you must properly set and keep your mind;
when waiting on God’s timing for your life,
the things that you will actually find…
are the genuine blessings that God had intended.
While the mind of the Spirit is life and peace,
personal growth is only possible via humility;
exaggerated opinions of oneself are dangerous,
for they severely impact your spiritual acuity.
Seriously concentrate on the higher things of God!
Renewed thoughts come from studying of The Word
and a humbled mind of Christ becomes accessible.
Trust the Bible and apply its truths, whereby…
earthly problems are still divinely addressable.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Col 3:2-3, 11; Phil 2:5; 1 Cor 2:16; 1 Pet 5:6;
Rom 8:5-6, 12:3; Eph 4:22-24; Jam 1:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
Look at me now
Rising from the ground
Taking everything with me
No regrets
No remorse
No shame
What didn't **** me
It sure made me stronger
But it left some cracks
All of them are apart of me
Of who I am today
Scars of a battle that I've won
Medals that I carry with pride
Because if it wasn't for the past
I would never been this brave
Now I've regenerated from the ashes
My inner light shinning brighter than ever before
I've been reborn
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
The sacred rain has a secret to tell you;
Be the source that brings life into your place,
Be the fire that sparks positive change!
The melodious bird that sing at the crack of a new dawn has a secret to Tell you;
Embrace this song that is your life,
Embellish it with bright colors, sweet thoughts, and notes of bliss!
The brightness of the moonlight in the darkest night has a secret to tell You;
Let your inner beauty illuminate when facing the darkness of misfortune And calamity!
Let your light shine bright and touch others.
Every fiber of your being, every regenerated cell in your body has a secret To tell you;
Be a part of the movement towards awakened living,
Keep evolving with new ideas and creativity!
Hussein Dekmak
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
in sleep i saw something
beautiful in your eyes
no doubt you have regenerated
my awakening
© Qwey.ku
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
When it comes to forgiveness
In truth there is not a single body
to be forgiven except for your own
Let go of that self with an inner smile
Let these subtle flocculation dissolve in the pipelines
By inner knowledge
and flow Down the back
drawing the borders of the levator scapulae
On Both sides of the neck
where both lines shall meet to run down
through the gutter of the cervical curve
A clearing and space created for it by compassion and
Skin Replaced by the regenerated cells of the mind purified
And that pseudo-self delivered from the sacrum to the ***** of mother earth
with a truthful farewell.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
I frame the means of his work,
Faceless and boyful
Dissolving somewhere between love and abuse
Successfully regenerated in some rigid idealism
Shaking the wings of his terrible youth
Calling to join him -
The wretched and plastic
No more alone or himself could he be
No shortage of sordid,
No protest from me
He's The Angel of Death in The Ketamine Scene
Feeling less human and hooked on his flesh
Straight from the fields,
All frightened and fertile
****** and raw,
But I swear it is sweet
Lease the unsettling,
I'll wonder the concrete
Wonder if better now having survived
He's The Angel of Death in The Ketamine Scene
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
My love is transforming
No longer fixated
Moving beyond
Preconceived notions
The catalyst has occurred
Metamorphosis begun
An altered state
Of heightened awareness
Bursting from it's cocoon
It has evolved
No longer stifled
By your acceptance
It has mutated
Regenerated
Fortified it's being
In Self.
© Tina Thompson
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
I've not been content with the empty spaces
Let alone appreciated them
Greedy to fill them with my own thoughts
My own dreams, my own desires, my own need
My, my, my, my
Never once thinking that the void is infinite
Offers nothing, consumes all
Could care less about my, my, my, my
Let alone my inability to appreciate them
I seek to fill them to sate my own narcissism
To work a fine piece of alchemy
Upon a golem
A frightening, lifeless husk of flesh and bones
Perfectly content with it's station
The last thing in the world it needs
Is me for a soul
A new life, a new purpose
A real "yes man"
Elemental body eternal, regenerated with time and coincidence
Spirit trapped within, room to spare
The perfect companion, yet still I am unsatisfied
If only I could turn the tables
Denigrate the good times
For their rarity
Perhaps make peace with the boredom
I would be glad to sacrifice
All this insignificance I've collected throughout the years
Place it in perfect perspective
Stand back and take in the beauty
Of how nothing in this world is mine
Except, perhaps, nothing at all
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 4:44 AM UTC
Through the barren ground there was hope
a tiny plant grew!
The drought wiped man from the earth
mined of all goodness.
Without water the human race declined
few were left to find.
Warnings ignored but the wealthy hoarded
while most were denied.
Rain became just a word in our history
so from billions alive!
Numbers fell to less than a hundred thousand
a child's cry a rare sound!
Two centuries went by the numbers dwindled
the earth like a huge prune!
Vegetation withered sand replaced fields
the seas paddling pools.
The survivors huddled in the many cool caves
the dying planets slaves!
Then that day early before the unbearable heat
two young humans saw.
Under a shaded rock overhang rarely visited
life they'd never seen.
How could it be growing in this dry soil
without water or toil?
Had nature at last regenerated starting to heal
the air seemed to blow.
A trickle of water bubbled up by the plant
the small group gathered.
Looking at the plant growing on barren land
each touched it with a hand!
What none knew was from an underground lab
in a secret city.
Genetically designed plants and creatures
were being unleashed!
Deciding earth's only purpose experimentation
before it's total deterioration!
Then the wealthy would move to a new earth
they'd found for their rebirth!
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:51 AM UTC
creepy moss that hide in dark spots
on creaked roads and river ponds
slimy green and even brick red
they are the first terrestrials ...or so , Ive read
the stages in which a fish walks on land
or how earthquakes move continents
and how movements cause formation of land
that millions of cells died regenerated to birth new plan
that stars died for earth to be reborn ..
that there is no right or wrong
that i have no such a purpose but to exist
that life is an empty and a meaningless abbis
that the rays of the sun so colorfully stream
are shooting down at precision speed
that the rotation and direction of our earth spins
in nothing but chances ......by them we live
although facts upon facts , they reach
never coming to conclusions , they teach ....
how can we just be
an anomaly of evolution and astrophysics
how can we be
so complex ...feel ?(thoughts , emotions , ideas ?..)
or is it just chemicals that control our
actions and the turning of the wheels ?
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
He draws a drag
Of his Newport
Staring up at me with
Those knives he calls eyes
My stomach twists and
I can taste the
***** in my throat
From the
Disease we call
Love
I study his appearance
Thinking of how beautiful
The folds in his baggy jeans
Really are
My opinion is biased
I'm sure it's hideous
But I've always found a way
To see the beauty in him
No matter how hard he
Tried to hide it
Love
I try to scratch the word
Out of my brain
But it's no use
How happy I would be
If I could just
Live alone
With a million cats
And slowly progress
Into madness
And when he
Leaves
Because his cigarette has
Dwindled down to
The filter
It rips me in half
And my heart bursts
Into flame
Then to ash
Only to be regenerated
When he walks
Back outside
And slices my veins
With his words
*It's freezing out here,
You going inside?*
I prepare for the worst
Take a few steps
A few deep breaths
And concentrate on the
Pulse from
My internal
Bleeding, broken
Phoenix
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 1:14 PM UTC
Has my sorrows left,
as I thought they had,
or could my tears be revived?
Though these may have regenerated,
my feelings for him are long gone,
or so I believe them to be.
When he returns, how will time pass,
as it is now,
or will love blossom once again?
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Beautiful night,
vivid with magical
clear full moon
hanging in the
dark night up
in the sky.
It brings thoughts
of restlessness
as if you
want to explore
the galaxy
all by yourself.
Beautiful as it may,
calm and quiet
with sounds of
the deep silence
of the earth
talking to your soul.
The heart is
so at ease
and peaceful.
All around you
are not going
to be the same
as time alone
with nature nurtures
and engulf your
being with the
power of love.
With your soul
you feel the light,
even when your
eyes only
see darkness.
The soul opens
up like the
rose flower that
unfolds itself as
it blooms and
blossom to share
it's fragrance
to cheer the
brokenness of the heart.
Washed by its
purity and adorned
by its pureness
the heart is
renewed and regenerated
with bliss.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
1. You're nothing.
2. The piece of my heart you stole has been regenerated.
3. You cease to exist.
4. You didn't make an impact on me.
5. I never loved you.
6. You were the part of me that I despised.
7. Now that you're gone, I'm swimming in self-love.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
#Stephan W
*My beauty is resisting the worldly pull-- to
slip into lethargic un-consciousness,
in order to no longer feel the anxiety
brought about by non-response to the
primal-question's asking,
But instead is choosing to feel it all-- and in
doing so- it, is costing her everything.
Everything.
She is showing us all what true courage is about,
suffering for the greater good:
for that which is within herself
for her children
for all womankind-- and therefore, for all of man-kind also.
She is the firstfruits of the Universe's
deepest dream; that of a full restoration,
allowing herself to be cut-open, internal parts, rearranged,
heart regenerated, rebuilt through love's magical ways
her mind, being renewed through understanding,
repetition of love's true ways, washing it clean
from the shame unfairly pressed upon her
by the broken, fallen love of man
She is the new Eve-- this beautiful-one,
free from the need to re-create what love is--
she is open, believing.. her beautiful receptors-
perfectly aligned with the harmonic-tones
emanating from the garden, as she walks.
And I.. Adam, love her deeply.
There is an ache with in my side-- a reminder
of my consent of its removal
so that I would no longer have to be so alone in all this magic
and as I struggle, taking in all that is beautiful about her,
I see now that she was not produced from me,
the man
But that I was the oyster,
and she, the beautiful pearl--
the one beyond all price,
the shimmering diamond-- formed,
within this lovestrong lump of coal;
over millions, and millions of years.
I sit in awe as I watch her
she has been worth every moment
of the wait.*
#
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 8:50 PM UTC