"regenerating" poems
They pick at each other like scabs
yet never let the wounds
feel exposed under their layers
of regenerating skin
As much as they make bruises
with their nicknames
and laugh it off as effortlessly
as it slipped out their mouths,
They are also the love
that heals all the pain
When one leaves
the other two produce more love
than usual
so that the third is not missed as much
But oh.
when all three sit around the kitchen table
or huddled on the couch
You can feel the rainbow
stretching further
over the earth.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
We wreck havoc on one another in the name of love. We leave inoperable scars upon each others souls and leave one another strangled for air, plundered of all vitals. We call this love, and we recycle these events, these feelings onto the next person without realizing that we are generating and regenerating feeble souls, stripped of their ability to love. What a tragedy love has become.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
Out of all the words in the human languages, almost is the cruelest.
I almost loved you.
I almost won.
I was almost there.
I was almost *****
When he snuck into the room like a wolf stalking its prey, my stomach didn’t almost tie in knots.
It became a sailor’s masterpiece.
When he laid beside me as quiet as a stone, I wasn’t almost shaking.
I was a leaf on the San Andreas Fault.
When his long, spidery fingers began trailing down my back, it didn’t almost feel like razors.
He cut so deep the skin began to peel back and expose every
insecurity that I’ve hidden away between my vertebrae.
His fingers didn’t almost dig into my arm,
they became shovels that dug a hole big enough for a casket.
Bruises didn’t almost blossom across my skin,
I was a primrose bush in full bloom and he was the gardener.
When he coerced himself between my thighs, I didn’t almost scream.
Years of ancestral abuse surged through my lungs and out my lips
into a battle cry.
When he tried to force his hand inside of me I didn’t almost feel spoiled.
I was a fruit rotting from the inside out, something that no one
would ever want.
And when my screams finally drove him off of me, I wasn’t almost okay.
I was paralyzed with fear and disgust and shame.
Everything I’ve ever believed in slapped me in the face as I told myself:
This is what I get for liking ***
I shouldn’t be so easy.
I was asking for it.
It was my fault.
I felt like a butterfly, beautiful but ruined by a man’s touch.
Never to fly again.
But the truth is, a butterfly sheds scales throughout its lifetime,
regenerating its wings.
So when a man reaches for your wings in attempts to rip them off
remember that you are not what he thinks you are.
Remember that it is never your fault.
Not even almost.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Knotted Cord
Rebekah- Hebrew, meaning - Captivating; knotted cord. Wife of Isaac in the Old Testament.
I am a knotted cord,
Of chattering reactions,
and alphabetical perceptions
straining to elude me.
A tangle of cerebrum crammed to my cranium
snarled loops that hear light in code,
or see voices through pulsating synapses.
I am a knotted cord,
A grey rope of countless nucleotides;
fashioning my own skintight survival manual
from my own regenerating song.
Rough edged coils of yesses and noes,
Spiraling into collected silence.
I am a knotted cord,
A scrambled array of ambition,
Stitched with the lethargy
of an unraveled thread.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
The attraction between Cancer & Scorpio is magnetic, deeply felt, & has the potential to withstand the test of time. The warmth & caring nature of Cancer feel regenerating to Scorpio, & Scorpio sense of an all-encompassing love appeals to you Cancer deeply. Both have the similar ways of expressing their love & make each other feel “at home”. A Scorpio man is an invincible person he is an extremist with calm & steady surface & smoldering passion within him. Beneath the soft voice of Scorpio male lays his subtle strategies to enhance his career & personal life. He is one person who comforts immensely & can sink into depression, or rise to intoxicating heights of ecstasy. In love with a Cancer woman, he is a passionate lover who knows all the synonyms of romance & eroticism. Though he is a great lover, but together with it he is very jealous & suspicious in nature too. He can be passionate just about anything, including *** love & family. If you look at the surface, he will look totally calm & composed. Just look beneath that outer layer & you will find his unique passion.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Do you know what Christian Hope is?
Is it a proper, confident expectation
of future, good things, yet to come?
Are you fully grounded on the tenets
of Faith, as part of a holy nation?
Can you share the Gospel with others?
Why is Christ’s death considered news?
Is the work of God regenerating in you?
Do you know of the sacred promises given?
Are you living Life… with Faith infused?
Do you expect that Christ will return?
Have you dreamt of your body’s redemption?
Are you eagerly awaiting righteousness,
by Faith, through His Holy Spirit today?
Have you inherited Life via Salvation?
Regarding the sovereign grace of God,
can you understand its complete scope?
Have you discovered your divine purpose?
Is life moving you towards The Christ,
in the real direction of Joy and Hope?
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Heb 6:11; 2 Thes 2:16; Col 1:23; 1 Pet 1:3;
Rom 5:2, 8:23, 15:13-14; *** 1:2, 2:13, 3:7;
Gal 5:5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Subatomic particles
They jitter and bug on
Like the people
Late for work
That I see rushing about
Every day on the street
Just trying
To make something happen
A change
Is a positive thing
Well, you'd hope so
When something
Or someone
Or somewhere
Alters their way
When they or it
Evolves
You always hope for the best
But sometime
People, places, things
Nouns
Degenerate
And it's a shame
But it doesn't have to be that way
So
Here's to evolving
Here's to change
Here's to regenerating
Into something
Better
Bigger
Staggering
On our next
Run 'round
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Now, we find needs just so we can fill them. We go insane so we can buy the meds. Soccer moms popping children’s pills. Everyone dreaming suicide and depression. No how. No why. No reason.
We want inventions so we can make infomercials. Who cares about shipping and handling? **** the national debt. I’ll give you my credit card number, and you’ll send me a pet nail trimmer, even though Max (the dog) died four years ago, you never know what you’ll need right?
We find government just to have politicians. Everyone promises a solution to the problem. No one ever expects it to pan out. Instead, we vote on name recognition, parties, and skin color. Who cares about platforms or empty promises?
We wage wars just to make video games. I’ll shoot you now, your brother will shoot me later, but don’t worry, when we’re all in the ground. Someone, somewhere, will design a kickass, strategic, lifelike game, where dying only means regenerating and less ammo.
We all want something, or nothing. We all work to live, live to die.
Try just to fail, fail to try.
We want anonymity, just to forget the tragedy of our minds.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 12:18 PM UTC
I wake up and it's tour day
Bright shining sunny
The little ones line up and fidget
Go up to the street's side and watch
Some others stream into the museum
Whose insides are covered in papers
And sketched all over with crayons
Depicting a cityscape and palace interiors
The parades are full of balloons and yet empty
Then the parade has a different balloon
It's alive, regenerating, strong
A simple face exuding evil
Suddenly I know; we have to run. Now.
Children are running and crying
My friends and I glance at eachother
Anxious, fearful
I have to dash back and forth
Running, trying to calm the children
Reassuring myself and my friends doing the same
The stenches of fear and pain permeate the air
Somehow I need to get away, to escape
And run
Then two women appear
Cold, sterile, lifeless automotons
Trying to take me away
So I pretend for a bit to follow, buying time
Then I struggle away, and run back
Mad dash
I find two friends and plead help
Wyatt is willing, Max is silent, Rachel isn't there
The women are back and no time remains
After one last plea I jump the wall
Fall, climb, stand, run
Gary appears barely in time, time for what I don't know
He runs along side, pushing, pulling, somehow helping
While saying nothing, too far away to touch
We're running into eternity,
Away from a black swarming wave of putrid evil
I wake up, sweating, gasping
And I'm still running
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
She loved the soft touch
On her shriveled skin
My wilted Daisy
The moisture of my lips
Were enough
To make her feel
Replete with satisfaction
And I think she is perfect
Because by looking at her
Her soul gets a regenerating feeling
And the cracks in her skin
Cease to exist any longer
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
If it would be up to me
I would be facing now
...
Rocks
Cool elegance
formed by the flexuous splash
Wild is the temper belonging
to the change of the impending season
the bleak-dark growing deep inside
A passion higher than the unreaching
tangent of a sharp urge unable to cut
by a smoothing of a creamy surface
Opaque by nature
hiding explosions inside
Bearing mysteries of the swallowed sounds
of seasons
Seasons of all the knowing
Covered by ...as if
the fabric of the unknowing
of the autumn waves
of the sea that grew teardrops
Washed away at once
by a fierce Splash
Shifting the mind
as the slapped face of the shores lamenting
remerge
Covered with its courageous green
A regenerating variant elongating savor
to the nose coloring the mind
by the help of a long Forgotten
rush of the algae unseen
diffusing Joy
drifting the rhythm
of a piano of a Turkish contemporary
unlikely to be heard through this maddening
storm where I am standing tall at the edge
In perfect effortless balance
Saluting the gusting and the turbulent
of all sides encircling to provide
the stillness of a home at hearts
As they used to do
O
My friends
Stay Stay this time!
As if a song
flourishing
the smile inside
As I used to do
gestureless
and they would see
But I will need to cross soon
the horizon approaching
Vertical
I only came to see you
One more time
embrace you
the last time
walk with you
through the bazaars and bridges
Our memories trapped in tidal fluctuation
Spanning generations over the Bosphorous
traces of dolphins patiently carrying
holding on to the edges
of old fishing boats
Wood hardly bearing
these ashes made of stars
Waiting to be born again
by my one look into the water
like the first one
A cry of eternity
and Today
I am heading home already
crossing this place only
where you brewed me to love
in this old drawing of truth
plainly framed
hanging
on this play
for a farewell
Ashes to alight to the sky
sculpting the light of poetic alignment
of you and I
in the eyes of the loving
A deliverance of Enjoyment of the being
Shall be my duty says a passerby carrying
The matchmaker's match for all
Until the final journey
where I shall eternally Stay
Stay this time
but
I am heading home now
I only came here to set you free
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
He always kept candles, loved
to watch their silent vigil stand
bright against shadow.
He lit them, letting himself
get lost in
their seductive mirage--
only long enough to
snap out of a haze
and extinguish the light between
his fingers.
In a way,
he lived for their death,
the curling of pungent smoke, mingling
with stale bedroom air.
But he also thrived on their rebirth--
the glowing ember, *******
breath from the smoke and
regenerating from ashes.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
We seek The Purpose of Life,
Or just some Meaning;
A Philosophy,
As we stare through the formless mists of time.
Yet Existence simply Is,
As is Life:
Wondrous phenomenon
That happens.
We are taught to give each thing a function:
The wheel that rolls us on,
A pen which writes.
But Life is Life
Nothing more.
Generations take turns to live,
Passing on the baton.
Trying to breed ever greater Minds,
We yearn to be Immortal.
Studying those regenerating jellyfish,
The search is on
For The Fountain of Youth.
Yet maybe it’s time to stop trying
To make sense of it all.
Perhaps it’s time to spring into action,
And Get On With It.
Paul Butters
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 5:01 AM UTC
Tu y yo en la noche fria
Entrelazados bajo cobijas
Como tamales de dulce
En una olla gigante de barro
I want to keep you forever
Become the water to your river
The vision to your spirit
The light to your progress
I want to stay in this beautiful uncertain moment
Court you, engage you, and inspire you
I want your heart to beat faster as I get closer
I want to become that one emotion that overwhelms every other
Your resting place, your peaceful love, your regenerating space
Your warm Mexican blanket
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
Straining your neck to get a second look
At distant locks
Shaking "I tried"
Turning door knobs inside out
Anxious patterns spinning ties
Sweating for warmth
Stepping into socks, enclosed travels
You're too cold to exist
Grabbing anything you can grab in sight
Twisting your mind
To escape living ecstasy
Dreams of you and me
The moon falls upward
The sky falls below while the cars fly
Like a limousine to me
You used to be considered fancy
Six feet under, in my mind
Forgotten parts of cringing discoveries
Lost and found inside miscellaneous medicines
Remodeling harsh eyes
Confused expressions set on autopilot
Degrading, regenerating
Organs and miles of dusted feet
Lost between them that are you
Emotions trample your face
Tracking slush in the cracks of your flaws
Where is the army fleeing?
Desire to feel them burn
Spines form to given foam
But as you lose yourself they trade for former homes
Laying themselves down, unaligned
In different storylines
Dictionaries have answers to everything known
Owning all meanings, meaning nothing at all
Labeling individuals and all things
From avalanches to eruption of mankind
Fix my eyes on you
Scribble languages on napkins
To bring education from there to near
Forget this just to remember.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 9:41 AM UTC
Dragging a baseball bat through the alley,
old-fashioned stain, auto-signed by some
body that used to inspire, you know how it goes
And, of course, it's raining a type of
slippery sludge that gets on and under
regenerating skin, born today, dead today
forever and ever a boulder pushing life
It all stings, oh god, it will accurately burn
the way that a forgotten face trips into smoke
before the mind's wandering, hazardous dare
Then, before it was ever known, you break
into the breeze, a tryst of truth, floating
Where he stands is so close to where the
bat meets the flesh, bursting under babble
Swinging with the explosion of repressed
rage, stolen memories summoned into a
frenzy of freedom and self-imprisonment
Violent before the new world,
breathing into a rumored hollow carcass
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
we often find our enemies
dawning in the core of the earth
and resting their souls on the gates of hell.
discussing untold dues
with the fragile state
of mind we're in
and reimagining
times of greater health
and masked feelings.
realization of distraught
and unnerving discussions
about our fears and weaknesses
remind us to be genuine.
regardless of opinions
and ignoring ones thoughts
we know our own worth.
detrimentally bringing hurt to your soul,
this earth is here to not only
remind us of pain
but to help us relive it.
we are not invincible
but we will prosper
in the art of painstakingly regenerating hope
for this worrisome life we live.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
I was bleeding into a porcelain
cup watching each drip, drop and fall
rippling into the pool, drowing
my ex lovers in apathy. I could see
their faces in the tiny waves
as they washed and broke against its sides.
My knuckles cracked like nail polish,
skin chipping away and regenerating
like an over-juiced lemon.
Damp pulp and disfigured rind,
bitter and dried up
wrapped around the china.
I placed it to my lips staining them
like liquid roses in a glass,
mixed with mascara and salt water.
Scorching my throat like breathing in
burnt paper and singed tobacco
as the steam rose up like
heat from the pavement in june.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
'I am regenerating.
A soul takes its
transitory step
from a caterpillar's last breaths.
The healing white lights of change renews
my soul's infinite quest.
Suddenly, a rainbow butterfly emerges to claim the waiting sky.
For I am reborn.
as the Cosmic Butterfly Eyes
of the Loving Divine.'
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC
Memories...
glisten from naked skeletons,
hung like sharp glass
shining in a sea of regret.
Petals...
plucked to breathe,
to survive the harshness
of winter.
Flesh...
oblivious to snow's chill,
caressed by the warmth
of inner compassion.
Flowers...
emerge at random
amid a carpet of thought,
recalling the summers
of happier times.
Fresh growth...
cupped in the
palms of future,
regenerating amidst
a cloak of bleakness.
Icicles...
drip languidly in the face
of desire, of strength
and determination,
as the calling of spring echoes
amidst a forest of hope
and the promise of
life anew.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
I’m not sure what I did
to deserve ending up here
I can feel my body
slowly failing me now
With every hour spent in bed
every meal sitting on the table
every new layer of darkness
underneath my eyes
Weighing me down
burying me under the weight
of my reality
You just have to make it
through the day
You just have to dig deep
and find it in yourself
to be strong
Maybe that would be easy
If it was just for one day
My energy isn’t regenerating
fast enough to keep up
with the strength I need
just to get myself up
every morning
I can feel my bones
believing that they’re
not good enough
And I’m not sure what I did
to deserve ending up here
But God, please forgive me
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
I go where the road takes me
Every twist and turn hopefully less traveled by
Each corner a new surprise.
I am how the wind has carved me
Eroded well beyond weary
Corroded, yet to be discovered, simply a theory
I am how God has made me
Internal and un-telling, amicable and compelling
Deranged and day dreaming, troubled yet never dwelling
I will let life turn me
Into the the woman I'm yet to be
Into a person my future can admire,
Someone those I've left behind can aspire
to remember with a smile
I want to always be worthwhile.
I am so many things I never dreamed I would be.
I see in ways I didn't know I could see.
Reforming the old into the new to keep from rusting.
Decomposing, yet regenerating, constantly readjusting.
There is no telling what's next
For I am the product of "Cause and Effect"
Honestly, describing me in a phrase
Isn't the easiest of ways,
But to say at the least,
I am simply Becoming.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC