"revelries" poems
Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication
Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification
Rhetorical rote of empirical justification
Whimsical enervations elicit ramification
Incite legendary fables of rectification
Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications
Endemic epistemological semantics of edification
Evocative illuminism engenders mortification
Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification
Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification
Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion
Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion
Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion
Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion
Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion
Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion
Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion
Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion
Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion
Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar
Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind
He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier
He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes
Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate
He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds
Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your carnal ecstasies revealed
You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm
You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs
With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Confessions of a Blessed Hedonist.( tri word line)
-1- -3-
Lived this long, what makes change?
Time just flew, a metamorphosis divine?
Mind playing games worms to butterflies,
Heart desiring ever. saviors, angels, messiahs?
extreme cravings doused. what makes humane,
opiates in zillions, friends, lovers, brothers?
Cocktails, a million. Destinies unknown working,
Endless revelries futile, in times unconscious,
Loves instant, genuine. drunken slumbers dead,
Clean beds crumpled, uncaring deeds cruel,
Checkouts late rewarded. Unmanly acts shameful.
-2- -4-
Friends dear betrayed, maybe one dream,
Away bartered loves. among nightmares plenty,
Much monies made, that one love-germ,
Abandoned ethics many. under in-differences heaped,
Gods all rejected, faint glimmering self,
Except the Hedonistic! beneath mountainous egos,
World enjoyed fully, a sparkling life-sign,
Life wasted lovely. in cemeteries silent.
Morphing every second, causes matter not,
Into grandiose nothing, by destiny’s graces,
Skeleton cynical final. gratefully unscathed still.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Respect
for the mother and fathers who build this playground for us to roam ,
respect for the floating flowers sweet seed sprouting into blossoms tree
respect for the love of self - selflessly
respect for the helpers helplessly
respect for the boundaries
rises climatic waves crash onto soft shore
breakfast on the patio
what could one ask for more
then a wake up call without using a phone
last night's revelries spill over into today's serenity
sacred ground
sacred sounds
early bird gets the worm they say
share the love
spread the love , doctors healers
love knows no bounds
but seeks to reach each tip of wing in illuminated golden heart seen on first meeting
glows the fireflies
who light up the night time so bright
nor the wonderlusting princesses moving in her own skin with so much filling to the brim
overspilling with kisses and loves
spilt beers and american dreams turn to dust on the desert plains
and the silken haze hangs low across the city
bike riding race styling high flying
we already die to live to give
we already sing to the silent tunes of water droplets
and bird calls
tree's sigh in daylight delight and fight no one, not even the night for ...
the tree's photosynthesise by moonlight
leaves drink in the cool wise light and give off dreams of softly fading starlight
and laughing at Jamican tour guides....exucse me while i light my spliff....har har har har.....and over here is the kitchen...
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.
For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.
Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, ****** immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.
Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?
For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
I don't remember the first song ever made
I was not there to taste the sweet marmalade
dripping to this earth like rain in September
when it rained out from the afterbirth of
The first clever musical endeavor.
It was not i.
I was not the first to sit back
And rap my knuckles
Or tap my feet to the sweet rhythm
Of chirping cricket orchestrals
All written on the spot and never
Even thought about again. Like secrets
Carried to the grave of every short lived section
Of six legged minstrels.
It wasn't you either.
Just like you weren't the first to be inspired
By a cone spiders spiraling spire
Of a trap set for all music makers.
I was not the first to hear the melody
But if I could've been,
I probably wouldn't have taken it to memory
Or woken from my revelries
Because not everything new to me
Is the most beautiful flower you'd ever see.
But I could never rouse a lie like one that states
I wouldn't hum it off handedly later when
The sun went to wake the other side of the world.
And the orchestra whirled and settled into their
Whittled orchestra seats.
I wish I was there.
I wish I was the one who first
Was stricken speechless amid giving countless speeches when they first heard a cricket chirp in time with a meadowlark.
and Sparks danced amid the silence,
Too humble to adhere a single silhouette of sound
or even hint at the presence of an audience.
The sound wasn't meant to have applause
Or be critiqued of its brilliance.
Because it was the beginning
Of the resilience of the never ending sound we call
Music.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC
heroes
love
lovers
heroes
wandering past the death camps
the bars and adjacent bedrooms
toward hills
-
past the college frat parties
toward wisdom
past the drunken revelries
that bred
miserable love poems disguised as life
--
unto eternal morning
in the hills
with you by my side
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 10:35 AM UTC
Atop the hills,in buzzing markets
In rains lashing, hot suns blazing
frozen in snow,in the crowds lonely
stoic in revelries great and griefs deep
amidst loves transient,bondage flimsy
moving on impervious, unattached,
shedding skins acquired,a meditating
spirit benevolent to all, even to evil but
scorning,fighting,rejecting for lights newer,
seeking an unknown,never knowing true,
of its being,but for a sliver burning,blazing
in a nook soulful,engulfing slowly of me all
driving,undying, propelling me ever on,
to that unknown,that's seeking me too!
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:01 AM UTC
I looked deep into nothingness, and I felt fear
The emptiness within me became vivid and clear
The cycles of deception brought shame and a tear
I thought her love would save me, but she isn't here.
And now I am left to reconcile my shame
I sacrificed virtue, seeking respect and fame
But respect is something I could never attain
Because the courage in me I'm unable to maintain.
I became so lost within my selfish revelries
I could not strike back and awaken bravery
There were no weapons left in the armorey
For cowardice had broken and devoured me.
I saw a ghost, in my prolonged absence
I realized I could not undo all the damage
And now I'm left, to search and to salvage
In pursuit of truth this whole earth I will scavenge.
I take heart in darkness and delirium
Though I am merely a slave to the imperium
A black hearted piece of bacterium
Though from my shame I will compose a requiem .
I looked into myself and saw a coward at heart
I held her love in my hands, and I ripped it apart
I realized that I was empty from the start
I thought that I'd find some measure of solace in Sartre.
I had forgotten the love for my comrades
Those I'd nearly lost in egotistical contests
One must escape from such cyclical mindsets
And awaken with honor when the red sun rises.
But from the brink of nothingness, I must return
Even it means I must light a torch and be burned
Strength is never given, it is something to be earned
For it is virtue itself that I must fight to discern.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 8:07 PM UTC
Oceans of if's running rough yet smoothly,
In a mind filled with diffidence and hesitance;
Far-flung revelries of reveries in thoughts acquiescently,
Yet a heart searching possibilities with such adamance.
Piercing emotions fleeting through a murky surface,
Lulling the deadened soul with such alluring beguile;
Limerence spurned, suddenly pervading transient abyss,
Denial in persistent negation of emotion's cavil.
Depths of stolen glances seeking truth beyond words,
Waiting for signs of undefined warm requitals.
Beyond observations, I've only seen fjords;
Chilly shoulders and disregarded affectionals.
Force your eyes and heart, my presence descry;
And let's have a dance until twilight and time recedes,
For might've we not a chance again, not even in a scry.
Lest make a foolish heart's wish finally give up and accede.
Despite all eyes looking at us,
Did you ever feel something special?
Mistake my intentions not, I don't desire a fuss.
But I only yearn to figure, if in your heart you've got a lovely fractal.
To depths and beyond, I covet to seek.
The precious brilliance of your cloaked human shades,
Filled with beauty offering silence and meek;
A plausible sanctuary for a soul as it ages and fades.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Cool mountain breezes tranquilize
My heavy lids, as I shut my eyes
And soak in the graceful scenes,
Aboard the majestic Himalayan Queen,
With her rhythmic chuk-chukking,
Her coaches lazily chugging,
Each slow screech of her ancient brakes transporting
One to an era of few hurries and fewer worries,
Look at her, winding round and round,
Piercing cloud after fluffy cloud,
Almost like a moving tiara adorning
The artistic Simla greens,
That span as far as the eye can see,
Only punctuated by nature's unbridled revelries
Of wild, white flowery shrubs
And lone, or in pairs, monkeys,
And moss-laden tunnels galore-
"Recorded for this route as hundred and three,
But numbering hundred and two in reality",
Points out a septuagenarian co-passenger knowledgeably,
His random trivia prompting me out of my reverie,
Albeit, temporarily!
For soon enough, my senses slip once again
Into a playful camaraderie,
With the innocent romance that only
The mountains can awaken inside of me.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication
Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification
Rhetorical rote of empirical justification
Whimsical enervations elicit ramification
Incite legendary fables of rectification
Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications
Endemic epistemological semantics of edification
Evocative illuminism engenders mortification
Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification
Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification
Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion
Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion
Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion
Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion
Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion
Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion
Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion
Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion
Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion
Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
Irrelevant are the revelries
that cast themselves upon me often.
Like beaten and weathered souls
we walk amongst the dead, whilst living.
Blackened hearts; unwilling, yet copacetic.
Life has come routine and bland.
The cold, and dampened sound
of another numbing day in and out;
only livened by the thought of you.
A pure and shimmering light
that echoes through the mundane.
Screaming out for me to be the change I dream.
How is it we hear each other; so far off shore?
Come drift into my widened pupils and remind me of who I once was.
Innocent and genuine.
Setting fire to my every fiber, this magnetic masquerade must end.
I feel I am made for something more when I am standing in your warmth.
So would you remind me of who I am, before the sunsets again?
And would you free me from the currents, that have long since been sweeping me out into darkness?
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
Caught in a starry-eyed gaze
Hearts close to surrender
Cecilio!
Hold my hand.
Longing for a downpour of soft caress
Gentle was me;
Brute was he.
O, cariño love me, Cecilio!
Stay still. I want to take a photograph.
Freeze memories as they come.
Once
Once is enough
Memories that will last.
You blow me away like a bud of darling May spring
You, without a word spoke loudly...
I could hear you scream the words you fear to let loose from your pursed lips.
And I will listen to every unspoken truth and quiet revelries
I shall bear in mind the dreams, fears, lies, and your uncertainties
And I will never forget them.
No, Cecilio, I will not.
I cannot.
But I shall also bear somewhere within me
The little glimmer of hope of how the things should be
We'll walk in the empty rooms and see them dense
As you feel your body writhe when you're close to me.
For now, I shall satiate myself with the surging rains that flow from the corner of my eyes...
every time I see you under the warmth of somebody else's lullabies
I shall see to it that you smile
Smile, Cecilio
Everybody knows this is not yet goodbye.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
December revelries are never
About you. They are
About the yuletide, about
Everything that was never
About you. But somehow,
You
Keep your faithful grandeur
Upon our mortal eyes,
Upon our bounded beings.
Reminding us of our
Fragile existence, of our
Excesses and excuses for
Not being life itself,
For just being a
Reminder and remainder of
Its majestic beauty.
See you in 2034,
With a yearning for
A memorable life changed
by the universe of
Chance.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
*What acclaim is there
for the man who breaks
the heart of a *****
What worthwhile service
can assuage the soul
so torn in malcontent.
He prophesies of Eden
telling Eve to hide her shame
in lieu of his land perfected.
"What other hell do you threaten?"
He claims, "Fire! Fire!"
But her lungs hold smoke
to keep hands from shaking
breaking spirits and homes
as Priest rushes
to the safety of Soap Box
lightheaded from the height.
*What solace is there
for the arsonist in the convent?*
His speech its own
blend of herbs and spices;
sour prepositions
and capsaicin soaked subjects
caught in the heat of judgment
like some wrathful deity,
holier than thou.
Resisting respite despite
facing the fire of his deeds,
the innocent frolic, carefree.
He finds he
is the tinder,
caught in his conflagration.
*What pity have we
for the lost life of kings?*
Caught between revelries
and pomp,
caustic circumstantial froth
from his echelon elect
as we revel in flames
and fight *** with sins.
You know these things,
see them, taste them.
Spiteful planet, we adore thee,
eschewing humanity
with piety and privilege
and soft-spoken actions wont to liberate
the conscience.
Sing me the song of the sword
and I won't say a word.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
i think of you late at night,
in between grasps and gasps
of thighs that are beneath me
and they held me tight, secure
until the still of your reflections
are blurred by the orgastic current
and i sat still as a stone,
unturned
to the revelries of you
to a memory bygone
and i close my eyes
to a tomorrow where you don’t belong
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 5:03 AM UTC
Yet, exhausted from your Revelries come
Hijacked the Keeper and composed your own Bake
For your Little Lady of Plums succumb
Eager her drumming palms nibble your Make
Ah! Mum's Decree, I see? At least your Aunt
Forged her own errands so you could decide
A Tip, though, before your Swollen Lips haunt:
This Caramel Kiss tastes better in Kind
But what's this? Brownies? Or that busted Fudge
Revealed its Bitter Passion up-hand caught
Shrunk into Pips; Yet can carefully budge
To skip-rope her Smile; Then her Pumpkin's bought.
Nuts and Chunks taste good. But so should your Sense
Of Open-Screened Doors; Then block-out the Fence.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
*nightsong revelries
crescendo before the fall
...
silence bides in time*
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
how many times will we
draw lines in the sand
just to see the brine of
the ocean wipe them
away once again on
the whims of the next
ebbing effervescent tide
sandy structures on stony shores
granulated particles shifting
through our pruning hands
abject images of refracted light
glinting with frightening veracity
off the shards of shattered revelries
reflected in broken glass bottles
that still smell faintly of alcohol
bring the cigarette to your lips
e
x
h
a
l
e
silhouettes of m
i
x i l
a e k
l s y
a
g w
y a
in the evanescent starlight as we
recline on the beach and the
waves lap greedily at our feet
drowning us in the uneven
flow of the unknown
i wasted time building
castles on shifting sand
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
loud sound of stomping,
cloud land revelries go on;
till all puke,go down!
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
please
bear with me through
these turns,
for I believe it gets
much better..
i need help.
..much better than this
winding Caltrop
Way
please help me mind
these twists
no..
"not the TWISTS!
the twists betwixt
the ends gone
listing on
a list of modes or
measures—
lest my brooding
BOOM.
So vast,
and so cosmic,
so chasmic..
circumstasmic?
Could any of this be
happening?
Happenstance?
Perhaps a
dance—
a DANCE!
of eloquence enlisting—
of parables b'twixting
between..
..or was it betwixt?
betwixt!
the twist is
a'mix the
boundaries amidst
the sounding
absentees amiss
and all their revelries
gone missing,
they're so lost
among this misting lee."
**i came upon this sanity.
alas!
this simple explanation,
what has brought me
to my knees
at last—**
for
this hope so fixed
to kiss me,
as would bangles
on the wrist be,
then went
"begging and
dredging and
picking and *******
through grand affair in
blissful beds
of rose and posey petals
pushing hedgerows!!
more and more
a bushless exposé
as days count down—
a maze a'drowned
in *thornful
sortie*!!
scornful,
hastily adorned and full of
fate-encrusted memories
of a trustless
misgiving.
My sin has shone its boldness
and has left me living cold.
**please, god,
don't let me
die this way!"
this heart,
o lord,
it yearns
away..**
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Recurrent fixations
Brain and body stuck in the white noise of pain and anguish
Their scratched records echoing time
Memories returning needing to be demolished
Films of sweat gathering on the surface of the skin
Itchiness and jittery thoughts
Hallucinations brimming on the surface
Pale from nocturnal lifetime
The vampiric urge to ingest powders of delight and death
The soul stripped of all life, but just one more fix
A fix to bring us back to life
Oh life, you are reduced to one meaning
Awakening to surrounding grotesqueries waiting for memories of night time revelries to reappear and brighten the face before thoughts become sick and obsessed on one ideal
Life, a permanent black punctuated by brief moments of pure white light whose glow depletes with every jab in the squalid, stinking, putrid conditions
Sickness seeping into every pore
Twisted souls kicking and screaming torments at the day
Calling for gods to release the pain
Listening at the night for the fireworks of relief
Control relinquished to flowers of romance
Their seeds vomiting life back once more
Shaking hands and rapid increase in the beating heart
Licking lips in anticipation whilst muscle memory rituals of bent, blackened spoons and vein raising ties pave the way for temporary bliss of pure white light and uncontrollable pleasure
My distorted life of dishonest and fraudulent ways return once more
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 4:31 AM UTC
Oh yes, I nearly forgot to mention.
I do enjoy many orgiastic revelries
in my solitude, well, at least during
those certain moments of me
beyond myself.
If you'd like to join in
please forward a note of interest.
Included should be instructions
on how to best help you
transform your pain into wisdom,
how best to get you
to mingle your pleasure
with anonymity,
what we should tell your loved ones
if you happen to wander away
angry, saintly, or full of prophecy,
and a detailed description
of your vision of the beast's fiery mane.
You remember- that time when the god inclined
and presented itself, god to human.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 12:06 AM UTC
Ok-God, I've landed here 3 suitcases
full of charred memories
nights in the ***** house, late night revelries,
poems soaked in syrup, roses that never got delivered
woman that kicked my
donkey to thy kingdom come
gfs that became ex-gfs over the weekend
all those naughty books and movies stacked high
and an old pen that wrote English Literature
full of lies.
I followed your words
thankfully only the 75, they said, you said.
Once I knew the other millions were written by mean men
in beards and with two mistresses each
out the window the books went
and real life in the real world of real
people began. Oh, its been fun!
Imagine Sir,
just before that last tequila
squirming at the bottom of the bottle
I was dancing with this bombshell
and it exploded in my face:
Go to hell! she hissed, fangs out and wobbling
So here I am master with the only baggage I have
and one slim green gideons bible
never, never, ever opened.
Nobody, nobody ever told me, sir
you yourself had
4 suitcases of the same stuff.
'Welcome home, son, take the back row please
there are others with larger suitcases upfront.
Don't ever go back and tell 'em
heaven is made of these people.
Enjoy your stay!'
Author Notes
Have just been to the devils workshop!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a day ago
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC