"religiosity" poems
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******** sycophant
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
Friends with modesty, honesty and quality
Friends with novelty, loyalty and equality,
Is What all desire,
And
Friends with disability, social inequality and religiosity,
Friends with 'weird' human ecology, and 'discriminating' ideology...
None wants to acquire..
Some traits of these,
Are undesirable for sure,
But not even a single person of them,
Need to be ignore(d)...
We all are humans, we all are friends,
We all are lovers of humanity,
We all are creators of humanity and
We all are sufferers of humanity...
We all are friends, we all are a family,
We all are a human colony..
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
death mourns a life
that succumbs to suicide...
classical lawless-ness?
calls the jyst...
a thieving;
a stolen death,
a suicide....
bride riddled to a bridge...
baking...
left half awake and half baked...
you count with the number of
blinding equations...
your 80+ segments?
i want nothing to be part of,
whether polymath,
bilingual, or polymath...
you resd yourself into "it"....
fuck you, and...
**** off...
in terms of .gif ***** files...
no... the part where
we don't parrot?
for no worthwhile surprise!
death is alal b & w...
memory?
all invigorating sepia...
life?
the blooming of color...
you take shrooms,
to invigorate the colors?!
oh look...
you're as loony as me...
and why would i
give a **** about your
tall-tales of subversive religiosity?!
you're right!
like you have been with me
to begin with...
there aren't any!
now?!
suffer!
you're in good hands...
turns out?!
i'm a sadist...
i somehow tested the pain on myself...
i enjoy...
the pain, of others,
having, prior, teased the pain
on, myself!
i forgot teasing the pain...
i taste it...
i welcome it...
i've become welcoming
in allowing it,
a stature abbreviating a transcendence
of victim-hood!
i need pain,
to craft an erasure of ever having
the capacity to instruct
a modus operandi for pleasure!
death contra suicide...
a fact contra a premature contest
of pleasure...
suicide is what
death calls thief...
there is no moral artifact
of a "question"...
suicide is the thief,
when death is the executioner...
what moral question is
to be entertained?
non!
i can't blame the mortality
arsonist...
less Tartarus and more Gehenna...
less S.S. and more khaki
S.A. night of the broken windows
and less...
hyper-Hindu
reincarnation,
hue hue grey...
woo woo the ashen pillage...
no... i'm not here for the
cinder and the ********
it's enough that i drink
the sort of excuse,
that sober people could hardly make
excuses about...
and that's enough...
and enough, is, where i'll stick to.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
Last week we decided to just be friends
Even though I like you and you like me
It’s clear that now, friends is all we can be
Our union is something no one recommends.
We’re too polar, for even our own pretends
Your Aquarian audacity
Coupled with my religiosity
We just don’t mix well, there are no “depends”
As we share our brains through books and music
We also share philosophy on life
Though to be “together” would prelude strife
Our contrasting faiths may seem ironic
But such conflicts will bode cuts like a knife
'Guess I rather would keep this platonic.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
*Deadly deluded deceitful demon's of: inter-racial racism; murderous religiosity; frightful jealous hackings; tribally usurping genocides; atrocious political strength-of-arms; invading ferocity; selfish presidential reasoning;
Springs cut Irises -
dripping vital red not purple,
far from my window;
self-effacing prime ministerial decrees of war; sanctioned moves by greedy banker pawns; designer labelled terrorism; War, a game now called 'Texas Billionaires Commodity'; a countries paid survival; seeded maniacal jealousy; globalisation's murdering grandiose; grandiloquent made walking bombaster(s) ; revenger mob leaders; our taxed Fools World !?
Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses*
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
Beyond the realm of everyday
In mankind’s attempt
to portray the mystical and metaphysical
Sounds are bent
The Shepard’s tone is heard
But a human presence is felt
For in each note you hear a breath
An exhale from within
that make the soul melt
sounds made with air
a human quality
For it needs to breathe like you and me
Bringing the feeling of Religiosity
Stone walls and Choirs
Stained glass and pews
Added with The *****
Sets a polyphony muse
~ p.w
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
today i learned that a friend of mine
was nearly tickled by death
in a terrorist excavation of bones
in Brussels, with jean-claude van damme
included in the action sequence -
although without stunt artists, by god,
that's the second girl on my list of near
encounters with death and a permanence of tombstones;
i took four beers for a walk
trying to gather dogs' tears along the way...
if she was only worth blowing myself up i would,
she wasn't - because, i mean,
is this a 72-get-together asking about circumcision
and contraception, and is the niqab an over-sized ******
in the supermarket jokes,
me with my long hair tied into
a samurai's bun of a seashell, she with her
hijab... i didn't get the joke either...
i said i wrote poetry for friends,
and yes, i've become a so-called milk carton
at the supermarket - the expected, shelved -
first they asked for my name, then what i did,
matthew, poet...
well you've got the cheapest bottles of whiskey
around here, of course i'll testify
to a religiosity of having to repeat purchase... d'uh!
still, jean-claude van damme and those
four cans of beer... the dogs salivated more
than wept: so i collected saliva rather than salt drops,
of what could have suckled dry a field
readied for a harvesting of potatoes.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
Ongoing studies of Egyptian history
demonstrate lessons can still be learned.
Their oversized achievements were possible,
by having its peoples’ hearts turned…
to the idea of a national identity.
Around the Nile’s life giving source,
the commonality of personal survival
eventually produced an effective workforce.
Since times of Middle Eastern antiquity,
the annual flooding of the coastal plains
created the opportunities to trade away
the abundance of flourishing grain.
From enjoying unexpected prosperity,
the human lust for gold, wealth and power
was lavishly made clear by the Pharaohs -
as evidenced on their monuments and towers.
Under the pretense of religiosity,
Pharaoh was supposedly “heaven sent”;
for blinded people without vision
will always find having their will bent…
and on their knees, before earthly authority.
With governmental dictates on its population,
the heaping of rock into pyramidal shapes
has resulted in lasting, tourist attractions.
And what else, might one see?
From ancient propaganda on temple walls,
the timeless message of glory and conquest
still beckons everyone to its empire’s call.
Is it really true? What else can it be?
What about these ruins are still unknown?
What primeval truths are being promoted?
Seeing they’ve been… etched in stone.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Gen 47:13-26
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
The forgotten bedrock gleams...surrendering
crowns deep in majesty.
As breath comes and goes freely...what of
your fashioned cage?
Your multiplying extremities by mind's might
to touch the untouchable...allows religiosity of
fragmentation.
******* recalls of salvation...coasting still lifes
who blackened an etheric sea.
Seven Days in, and Seven Days out...clockwise/
counterclockwise, a Black and White Hole.
God of thy God in doses...whose meager One
be death at Once.
In the subtlety of trillionth aspect a clearing
may resolve as it were...what's point blank stands
as you Are.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Some people serve
little gods.
They keep them in
a shoe box with
other odds and ends.
They take them out when
they need something.
Their gods don't expect
much of them.
I can tell by the
way they treat people.
Cold and cruel.
Wars break out,
famine hits,
families disintegrate.
And there goes Betty,
reaching up in the
cupboard for her
dust covered god.
She asks it to
make everything okay.
She lights candles for it.
Sometimes she has a
little ceremony.
But her tiny god can't fix
her heart, it's brutal and lost.
It does like religiosity though.
Oct 15, 2023
Oct 15, 2023 at 5:58 PM UTC
As we are
Famed for hypocrisy
Do allow us to
Lecture you
About democracy
Though we know
Prior to us
You have the practice
In the timeline, upstarts
Usurping the know-all
Permit us
About democracy to
Goad you please!
The divide-and-rule
Machiavellian gesture
As an adventure
We admit
And still exercise it
Fomenting
Ethnic-based conflict.
We adore to fish
In troubled water
To sure meet
Own objective faster.
Just like a canopy feeder
With our wings
Eclipsing the water
Striking out light helps us
Unsuspecting fishes
To pick better.
In a
System of governance
And religiosity
You took the lead
But our piece of advice
How to dine, how
To put on attires
You have to heed,
Forget not
Boiled-wheat aid
You may need.
Disgraced, it is better
For food your pride
You barter.
Don’t think
Humanitarian issues
Or aid
Is what first comes
To our head.
The economically weak
Their mind we—
Hooligan hypocrites—
Don’t
Allow them to speak
Leave alone
Their own roadmap
To design and
God-bestowed
Wealth to tap.
Worshippers of devil
Head- to -toe
We are evil.
It is our duty
To exhume a
Terrorist party
That shows alacrity
To execute assigned task
The reason behind its back
Remiss to ask.
TPLF is our right arm
We don’t want
On it to happen
Any harm.
We don’t mind
For genocide
A hotbed TPLF members
Or dissenters may find.
Introducing
Modern colonization
Is our covert intention. ///
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 8:44 AM UTC
A victim of selective segregation
A society of articulated differential synopsis
Weaponising religiosity with extreme hypocrisy
Aided by the water drinking ****** perfectionist
Who bath their illusion with institutionalised pride
They force the common man,to trade his superiority for their overpriced inferiority
Until they were embedded in a caste of self pitying and planned rejection
Just like a self updated software..
They were condemned by the same society,in which they worked so hard to satisfy
They only had a scratch,but the hatred drive it to a wound
They became rotten,spoilt to the outside world
They were tagged unhealthy not acceptable in any form for human consumption
Discarded and thrown away and left to rotten to death
They were filled with hatred ,frustrated,and ***** by love
Like a condemn prisoner who found himself in siberia for a minor case
They were locked up in a depression gown
So death became the only way,the only liberation from the eternal suffering
The deluded hypocritical society celebrated that with a visible stunt
And the cycle continues
AYANFE
suicide is never a solution,just a passage to eternal suffering
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 7:40 PM UTC
I weave words within
an ephemeral
tapestry. a seamstress,
or a scribe of sorts.
either way you hear it;
the song remains
the same.
I understand and I do
not: a simultaneous
quantum superposition
(or superstition) for
an unutterable blazon of
infinity, encapsulated
within a granule of sand amidst
the eye of a great tempest.
I cannot claim a prophet.
no. I do not merit
such bravado.
no testament to my
works and days,
nor presumptuous air
of religiosity.
my fingers sketch out a
tempo through the
c
u
r
v
e
s
of letters,
a form which
sings and dances
for those who cannot.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
An elegy echoes from a high place, toward ardent souls parading below.
Cascading sculptures are carried by failing effervescence…
Masses are laid anxious; by irrational passion to venerate the superior.
A culture unchallenged is tolerated in its precedence to death and questionable redemption.
Here the tradition is exposited:
It is said that by the touch of HIS ornament, that of his imitated form, will provide the requester of their plea.
In light of HIS agony and validated glory this belief was prescribed.
So it is that souls are driven.
HIS arms gilded, HIS face adorned.
But by a mad riot for this achievement we find no acuity for complacence.
A tremendous depth of perdition is much predestined.
Harsh and vital consequences cannot be halted in its continuance.
Inevitable fury fall with tears on feet wounded; screams of worship increase amongst hopeful delusions.
Blood remains as these intrepid helots pass.
Marching forward with their thinking misaligned and unreliable, debris of retreat no longer exists.
A disserted option must be initiated to avert disruptiveness and voluminous loss.
A journey most unhurried...
A guise of religiosity quite mordant …
Each breath constrained and succumbing, each fretting step prized.
Fortunate are the survivors, let prayers fill the dead.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
The dreaded holidays recede.
Greed and gluttony,
bogus religiosity,
mandatory jollity,
painful remembrance,
all depart for another year.
The merchandising serpents,
having sold their apples,
slither back to their offices
to count the take.
The usurers smile
and unbutton their vests.
The God of Mammon
is sated for a while.
The possibilities
of real life return
and that is truly
something to celebrate.
- mce
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
*why should there be a medical diagnosis of pronoun use, when the pronoun they is treated as show-off problematic and paranoiac naturally, to ease the conversation?*
the day when the tetra gram ah tonne
met the compass of the crux
and turned the sacred YHWH
into N.E.W.S. -
to make it easier, the crucifix,
an abstracted square - collapsed -
they are indeed shoving ***** at as,
with prayers at the Hagia Sophia,
they're shovelling ***** at us,
because they're realising that the power
they claim to have is ineffective,
hence their need for religious topics
to organise legions, to utilise religion
is to finalise political ineffectiveness;
political apathy breeds
religiosity and attachment to symbolism
rather than geometry.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
A big mistake
We propagate
Unthoughtfully.
We need to shake
Away from the
Philosophy
That we can hate,
Because of our
Geography,
Or we can take
The truth from all
Our progeny.
Give us a break!
With all your
Religiosity.
You bunch of fakes!
Confusing
Bibliography.
For goodness sake
Cut out the hypocrisy!
It is too late,
There is no more
Monopoly.
Just keep the faith,
And if you do it
Properly
You will escape
The owner of
The property.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
I think l'll find a bluejay -
a loud vociferous jay -
standing her ground , sure-
and proud ..
Alert , unabashedly pious -
and lyrically meticulous ..
Voracious for truth , golden throated with frank religiosity and unbridled animosity in silencing the powers that be ..
Bound for eternity ...
In her honor I have named her-
Miss O'Connor ...
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 11:21 PM UTC
From whom did I dare seize the fire
Which casts light on truths to be sung to lyres
The revelations are suffice to inspire
Paeans to be sung around the pyres
There was thunder in my brain
When truth cantered inwards like a train
Albion pointing to the warriors slain
And to his wound, his immortal pain
From the torch the truth doth bright exude
A light that is a sort of useful food
That renders visions in which sense brews
That with divinest meaning woos
Promethea a warrior magician
I am also the strangest of physicians
Bearing heavy the weight of contrition
When faced with the plans of the worlds morticians
I traverse my path to get my heroine
On this troubled, but essential quest I begin
There is nothing that we can win
But we can redeem our conscience of the devil's sin
But Devils' sham religiosity will not survive the ravage of time
Earth's rustic children are the truly sublime
To dare to strike them down in their prime
Is the most heinous of mortal crimes
O, my god, I bear to you
The angel, the angel, spirit true
Through my heart a warm breeze blew
For having seen a soul so true
Now you can ascend the stair
And find your way to perfect care
In the castles of the air
And find peace in angels luscious blare
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
Roaming
In the dark continent
Where the sun shone brightly
And the grass withers too
Even on the ground so dark and loamy
I met her dressed
Clad in fur with a spice of myrrh
She stood a feet of four, or more
With an enticing smile that beckons to all
And eyes that gazed effects past Medusa
Her seductive touch
Seemed to stretch across all town and rank
Leaving a scar on all that touched
And yet the taste of her lips
Stood the desires of all men alike
She is the good and the bad
Pushing you to the tidings of religiosity
Budding your hands with a tedious tidy
Or lest, a dubious mind
This black land stands a stretch of Medusa's lair
Her fangs dripped bleed, profusely
Of the bloods of the hungry and skinny
But she seemed to have bitten deeper
To the marrows of cognition and behaviour too
Yarding each dream and act to her myopic skirt
A loud soliloquy sang her heart
These lads have been faithful in our relationship
Romantically caressing me to such blossom
With their burning desire to ditch me
Quenched by a wait upon a Messiah
For to love another over me,
They have to quit in their heads and hearts alike
Day after day, precept upon precept
Bask under the sun, fruitfully, not tirelessly
And keep her close for I am never too far
As I, Poverty,
Is enticingly sweet
And what is sweet, can be Eden's apple
So I stand behind the door
Till the day you shall want another bite of me
For I am not just your fall, but your burial too
Written by : Royal Ethiopia
NII Mants3
The Esteemed Vatican
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
We draw the sustenance of light ,
nourished via the prism of summer
rainbows and sienna dusk
Escorted along life's curt , underlit marquee-
with intermittent reflections of hope ,
renewal and rebirth fostered by the opening rays
of dawn
Treading the decorated bottom country
Connected with sundry , polestar orientation
Drawn into magnetic , scrupulous religiosity
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
I'm running,
Panting,
Arms pumping hard.
I don't know where I'm sprinting to,
But I know what I'm running from.
You're the most complicated problem
I've ever tried to solve.
You're the best at hide-and-seek
And somehow I've hidden you
Under piles of rhetoric
Religiosity,
Philosophy,
Science,
Shame.
Tell me I'm Yours.
Help me feel like I don't have to be sorry,
Like you've already forgiven me
Before my heart begins to sink.
I can't love the way I want to love You
Until I accept the love You have for me.
I'm tired of pushing it away,
Of pushing You away.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
haunted
I am an unanswerable mystery to myself
pain
griefs food
belief in uncertainty
is like a medicine that makes me ill
loving the danger of things
like a tender ******
or the superstitious atheist
or the oversexed who convert to Catholicism
in a tither of religiosity
I lift Mother Mary's dress for a taste
irreducibly splintered inside
I feel
religion is quiet like the dead
and im pulsing sin
passionate perverted and metaphysical
a lover of hard headed ******
and goo girls
whispering ***** things in my ear
oooow mercy of nakedness
she holds my **** like a gun
pulls the trigger
and i pop her
panting she bleeds out butter ****
got her good
that big hearted ******* *******
criminal
the Devil has his contemplatives
as does God
and Christians say **** that
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 11:20 AM UTC
you know, when you've just drank about *****
you don a pair of sunglasses,
and you're listening
to marilyn manson's
long hard road out of hell:
mediating all the internet drama...
and then...
your arms fold... at where forearm
meats the bicep / tricep...
on the elbow cusp...
and the lower part of your
arms, rises stiff, dubious...
and the whole partial-limb tightens
a grip on the existence of the shadow...
only with prolonged excesses of
ingesting ***** does this curiosity
arise...
the mantis pose...
yum...
yummy yummy yum yum...
right on the cusp...
the hands turn into saber-tooth
hinge type of jaw-lines...
shadows that growl, glow and
lament simultaneously...
what?!
a mantis pose...
you drink at much ***** as i have,
and for as long...
you too would find this automated
pose a Francis Bacon curiosity...
groupies? no...
i'm here for: shadow...
always with the ******* *****
the sunglasses, and the right volume
of the right music...
look... by comparison to the horrors
conjured in the 20th century paperback...
i'm a banality of expectation,
that... frankly... was never
suited for either fame,
or being the expected...
i'm simply hier- -sein...
whatever "there" was,
is the "here" of, what here or there,
but became: now...
jetztsein...
oh look... how spacing and timing
overtook the ontological certainty
to counter the *** space-time "continuum"...
well... if the Yids failed at anything
it was their overblown IQ...
sure as **** perfected their nationalism...
the Yids live in a perfecting
harmonization of Jude, as space...
and the time of Israel...
if only Russia didn't interrupt
the integration of Ukraine...
and whatever happened to Turkey...
the lat segment of the dream of
Nebuchadnezzar II...
religiosity and all the tales,
is my second drinking part of intoxication...
i drink the wine of the ages,
or rather... i spice it up...
no ***** in the bible...
but i feast on these written
catacombs...
did i tell you about the mantis
pose?
crux on the folded arms...
stiff upper bicep / tricep...
and a slightly lose lower arm...
with hands stretching into forceps
of shadow puppetry akin
to those expected from icebergs?!
***** the night and sunglasses...
what shitty combination;
as a wise woman once noted:
easier to be feared,
than to be loved.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC