"temerity" poems
As one chosen by God, certain attributes
are demonstrated with loving regularity;
despite one’s beliefs, showing kindness
requires a daring of spiritual temerity.
For The Lord expects His children to give
Love towards people without expectations;
know that being tenderhearted, helps one
to naturally extend actions of compassion.
Don’t think lightly, about the richness
of kindness, it may one lead to repentance;
its warm embrace softens the heart, while
Salvation overrides Death’s life sentence.
The merit of kindness can’t be overstated;
being accepting, forgiving without judgment
means not rigidly imposing beliefs on others.
As His children, one should make investments
in the individualized development of others.
With the “Fruit of The Holy Spirit”, growth
and maturation can be properly accelerated
when applying by the principle of God’s oath
to “humbly walk in Love” (as He requires).
Kindness is patient, when paired with respect,
justice, long-suffering and unconditional Love;
the value of kindness, no one should neglect.
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.
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Author notes
Inspired by:
Eph 4:32; Gal 5:22-23; Heb 6:10; Rom 2:4;
Luke 6:35; Col 3:12; Prov 3:3; Mica 6:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
I got fined for littering
by the roadside –
just how unjust can the world get, you tell me!
Look, I agree I’m a *****
but think about it -
it’s just the normal thing to do
I was walking along the road
when I felt it was time
and I gave birth to puppies
by Rotweiler Road;
and this dumb guy comes up in his uniform
and gives me a ticket for littering –
well, I was really barking mad
What could I do? Well, at least I bit him on his ***
that’s what I did!
Imagine the temerity, giving me a ticket
for littering – hey, littering is
what ******* do;
it’s the most natural thing to do!
What will you fine next? Breastfeeding in public?
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 7:13 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Three-legged spider on a ***** tile
Eyeball rolls, clean in hand
Massive metal door opens, up top a hill
Graveyard of ever-ringing cells.
What's real creepy to you?
Enclose the city, lock us out ..for good
Condemned as doomed, living dead
Big guns survive in metallic domes
See the crass ******** shoot us down!
Wanna talk about what's creepy, huh?
Plunderers now lay down new laws
Can't fight the sick, red sway
Random acts of violence bay
Armoured eyes see all from lofty towers.
Creepy autocrats hide the truth, right?
No soaring when blood runs rivers
Tripping over rotting corpses
Decaying stench of hope dying
Help will come, we must believe!
Do you believe lies to your face?
Infrastructure's down, no services
Power's out, no more flushing
Car carcasses aflame on every corner, yet
How come big brother's eyes still move?
Are the gullible ones really stupid and feeble?
Sun shines, but nothing grows
Rain seeps red away into sewers
Crops of twisted metal, hoards of guns
Skeletal trees adorn our landscape.
Why hold askance your glance skyward?
The gates will open to let us in
Surely, they witness our hardship!
There must exist a life beyond this strife
Uproar, bombard, gas, artillery....then no more....
Can you ever cease to have temerity?
In face of adversity, calamity and injustice
We should NEVER cease to be exasperated!
Hope must prevail; faith must live;
Thoughts expressed; love and respect must survive.
Can you afford your spirit just to let go....?
Think about it. Creepy autocrats eternally rank ...
Chronically..........Insidious
Repressively........Deleterious
Egotistically.........Inadequate
Eruptively............Odious
Pretentiously.......Tedious
Yucky...................Scum!
S T, 31 May 2013
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
1386
Summer—we all have seen—
A few of us—believed—
A few—the more aspiring
Unquestionably loved—
But Summer does not care—
She goes her spacious way
As eligible as the moon
To our Temerity—
The Doom to be adored—
The Affluence conferred—
Unknown as to an Ecstasy
The Embryo endowed—
3.6k
1432
Spurn the temerity—
Rashness of Calvary—
Gay were Gethsemane
Knew we of Thee—
3.2k
1561
No Brigadier throughout the Year
So civic as the Jay—
A Neighbor and a Warrior too
With shrill felicity
Pursuing Winds that censure us
A February Day,
The Brother of the Universe
Was never blown away—
The Snow and he are intimate—
I’ve often seem them play
When Heaven looked upon us all
With such severity
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky
Whose pompous frown was Nutriment
To their Temerity—
The Pillow of this daring Head
Is pungent Evergreens—
His Larder—terse and Militant—
Unknown—refreshing things—
His Character—a Tonic—
His future—a Dispute—
Unfair an Immortality
That leaves this Neighbor out—
3k
What to say about this beauty's temerity,
when I like her, the way she is;
she kisses me only,
when she finds me really attractive!
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
She is as lines to Bauhaus, oblique
In category yet commanding in form;
Her mind a pool of wealth and Grace,
Allusions to illusions, omega to
Alpha’s strongest gaze. I stand
Failed, distraught, lacking the
Dexterity of voice to call her name,
The temerity of will to regain her fair
Charms and affirmed charisma.
Lost I am within a cascade of
Superlatives and tribulation.
Were only she to have conquered
My mind, I would be of sound spirit to
Elicit some tempered comprehension;
Yet alas, I have been taken in soul
And I can do naught but wait
To see if she will one day return.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 3:39 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
objects moving through space and time,
at a distance as silent as pantomime,
people too travel straight lines,
their geometry,
their temerity,
to stay true to that orbit,
some fly in parallel paths,
chance has its own math,
but when
two paths
cross,
there may be gain or loss,
but when
two in orbit
meet at the same place
and the same time,
the same ship,
a relationship, ...
not the mothership,
in orbit.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
559
It knew no Medicine—
It was not Sickness—then—
Nor any need of Surgery—
And therefore—’twas not Pain—
It moved away the Cheeks—
A Dimple at a time—
And left the Profile—plainer—
And in the place of Bloom
It left the little Tint
That never had a Name—
You’ve seen it on a Cast’s face—
Was Paradise—to blame—
If momently ajar—
Temerity—drew near—
And sickened—ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?
1.8k
Paving the way into the future
Sharing Montmartre songs
With painters on the side
Picturesque ideals....
You were once with me
Scarred by words of yore
Said beauty was all yours
Said I'd never high cheekbones.
I look'd within and sought light
And mixed colours, all from white
Temerity to stare life in the eye
With pain(t) dashed across my cheek.
So, now the years have roll'd
And many a canvas sold
You pass by...gaunt, high cheekbones
Wanna buy a painting?
Star Toucher, 22 March 2013
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
*..and I drop the small pebbles of my notes
in cursive, words are writ of the silent-things
I never utter in the frown-of-day
on the surface of the lake*
1.
soft touches from the fingers of a southern wind
offers some surprise in the falling
orange-orbs in the sky come tumbling down
from the shaking sky
there's no time to run - - keep still, oh keep still
closer they come
and yet closer, they whizz by
close your eyes, they will pass
they will come, yes
but they will
pass
close your eyes
2.
have no fear
we are here
you've seen it and it took you a while
to understand
(we've been told to expect you)
3.
when she said the things with shaky-hand on your lake
it was right there.. beneath the surface, half a ripple away
she did not know
you could have put out your hand, even fingertips
to touch
you never did.. so, she never knew
didn't delve on
you kept silent (as you are now)
4.
how do you know the pines trees did not whistle sighs
at your temerity to keep silent..
or were you rendered almost insensate?
and surprise..above it all, the eagle flew.. saw
concrete patterns on the ground
but couldn't speak
it swooped down low and flapped on bold, so loud
and the surface of the forest-floor went crunch beneath..
approaching-steps
*but how could anyone know
when brilliance lay right there.. half-frozen
below the surface of beginnings
a mere fraction away from
you..*
S T - 17 feb 2014
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
No more long stares
spent phenol syringes fresh on the streets,
barbiturated ruffians riddled,
denizens lost into this killing machine,
over dosed on Laudanum yesterday's ***** with temerity to spare,
turns tricks down
tomorrow someone laugh and high kick her,
those new Barista Gangsters , their marketing strategy
stretches the mind,
enough to **** a healthy Ox.
Lean close and hear
this requisitioned block is a pleasure dome
suitable for gilded beautification.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
the morning cries of birds awakening
where they stood nothing to say all the dark hours
say we crossed the midnight sea cowering in ink wells
rejoicing bravely on the red sands a danger passed
a peril unseen as birds in dead of night
I did not leave you or cover from the moon
or keep my words and all that I am in dead black
all that I am rattling in a cage straining against bars
I gave you in the darkest hour
not the world singing when it needs no song
not the world when it sees taking flight
but when you trembled I whispered in your ear
stay with me
we are our wings
or did you not hear and did another voice
teach fear by night and rancor all the day
call you out with morning birds to play
when I found the tender passion of unsafe hours
abandoned where you left it in a sunbeam on the floor
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
The appetite of a people-pleaser cannot be appeased,
due to the want of satisfying everybody's needs
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 10:17 AM UTC
There was a child once
full of barely hidden laughter and mischief
emotions endlessly poured out and back in
like a tide tasting a new shore for the first time
Where is that child i wonder
there was a traveler once
thirsting for the experience and life seen all around
headfirst diving into the world accepting
fearing nothing and witnessed with wide eyes
where is that traveler i wonder
there was a husband once
overflowing with found shining love
joy swamping easily the baseless fear of loss
proven in horrible perfection in a moment
where is that husband i wonder
there was a father once
completely enamored of a tiny squalling form
filled with a something that could not be defined
until it was gone drained and replaced with horror
where is that father i wonder
there was a lover once
coupled a shy temerity with a respectful tenderness
opening to possible love as a flower to sun
bruised and rejected on occasion though ever hopeful
where is that lover i wonder
there was a soldier once
who stood up with passion for those who could not
heart on the sleeve and thunder on the brow
viewing the world as a problem to be fixed
where is that soldier i wonder
there was a fighter once
who smiled sadly as he fought and killed in the name of money
laughing at the jokes his companions made in desperate tones
as they hid the slowly acidic thoughtful fear of being the bad guys
where is that fighter i wonder
there was a man once
betrayed and broken by this world and his choices
looking back across the memories that swirl and sift
ashes and dust that are all the remains of a once laughing child
and i don't need wonder where that man is.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
In conclusion
in between a busy life living,
I write.
to nite, in the early morning night,
for the first time in a long time,
I put myself on the shelf, and just read,
I read.
in conclusion came to me
after two hours of loving your written word,
that I am temerity, audaciousness 100 proof
to think that I am worthy
of sharing this space with you.
I am ashamed that I ever called myself
poet.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
I'm drunk again
And don't know why
Don't even enjoy this high
Seeking escape has never
tasted quite so bleak
as a bottle of ***
What to seek?
What to find?
Am I expanding my mind?
Or silencing what's inside
To write ****** poetry
In an attempt to understand
My inner self's complexity
I'm trying so hard to avoid using the word I
but it's hard when I've abandoned every
notion of universal truth
and fled to this
realm of personal value
that none can dispute
Philosophical barriers
And existential angst
Nihilistic apathy
And the temerity of
too much education
haven't brought me happiness
nor confidence and yet I still
implore my mind for perseverance
towards truth
in the blind hope that honesty
will lead, if not to ecstasy,
At least something other
than bland, half-hearted mediocrity
But these thoughts are all abstractions
Even if they are the foundations for
the straw and bale of my actions
How near my daily deeds
could they possibly stray?
Drugs, *** and insignificance
are the trio of troubles that burden my waking moments.
I know I can be so much more than what I am
I have wit, imagination, and ability
far exceeding my peers
But I lack determination or passion
To mold myself nearer perfection
And overthrow these hurdles
But even then, nothing would be good enough
Not these women, nor these drugs
Not my ministrations, nor these verses
And surely never myself
It's time to put down my pen
For now I'm only half-drunk
And ingenuity requires either clarity
from sobriety or quite a bit more toxicity
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay. Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity. Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional. Objectified manifest's eidetic prospectus's invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology!
Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis. Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis. Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy. Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance. Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.
Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany. Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative. Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft. Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere.
Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious. Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee. Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious. Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:55 AM UTC
On fineries, a woman has to wear,
passionately they discussed;
the name wasn't mentioned
though you were that woman
I was aware
A pendent in the central parting of hair
claiming aloud attention, top most
and a necklace, the kind
that turns all heads
worn around the neck
like lightning flash
Twinkling studs
on both sides of the nose
that attract and stun men folk
like two resplendent stars
in the clear morning sky.
Armbands on both arms
bejeweled calling attention,
bracelets and bangles
all that she could elegantly carry
waist band highlighting artistic skill
and her slender middle,
a belt in gold, a string of pearls,
the best of all worn by an Indian girl.
On her dimpled navel,
itself a work of nature's fine art
would shine a diamond
winking wantonly at every man.
Discussions on fineries went
many days on and on
I felt proud and contented
as she deserved all this and more.
But at the moment of truth
everything went up side down
"Who said she is the one?"
They had the temerity to ask.
On the illuminated podium,
a flower caressed by butterfly eyes,
she stood pale but smiling
still stunning without a bit of finery
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 11:28 PM UTC
*who are we
in god we trust, the ruler of a nation bereft of purities
corrupt ink in the capsule of a human’s casing
wages printed on the stoic faces of our leaders, blood and gore imprinted on their eyelids
spilling our incoherent tangle of words into songs and pleads for relief
we are spitting images of our mother, and her mother
iodized wounds that stretch to our finger-prints that they deem must be caged and stamped at all costs
our wrists are battered and tied with the rope of our pride
and our pink flesh is swelled up with their brand freshly printed onto our skin that reads, ‘you are nothing’
nothing but chains of forgotten children abandoned in rusted swing-sets
children who’s screams are full of hot air like the balloons that loiter about our minds
the balloons that burst sharply in a staccato beat when bittered thoughts contaminate them
we are children who press our fingers into our eye sockets and scavenge around the recesses of our minds
young hands damp with drops of the dreams that cascade down the pores in our bodies
the drops that empty into the gutter that encroaches the territory of our bones
pushed back dreams like the rotten tomatoes that stink of moldy desperation in the grocery store
memories melted into perfect formations like a drill soldier with a stone-cold face empty of temerity
memories stacked up like all you can eat pancakes that drape over us like an everlasting blithe
they leave vague impressions of naivety and sit despairingly upon our caged ribs
they cower behind closed doors and occasionally peek out from the clouds of illusions to say,
‘are you happy?’
but they disappear with cruel inspection like a fading smoke because we don’t dare to discover the truth
but even still we harbor desolation-spiked weapons that secrete through the same pores that piece us together
we are the ripest of onions, a scintillating mixture of strong scents and spirits
and the moment we realize this we try to scrape the walls of our binding
try to peel ourselves of the revolving emotions that we have been programmed with
and as our wrinkled layers flake off, we learn a bit more about how different we seem to appear
until we are nothing but a sun-dried core, who has found the truth only to move never-more*
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
This path, overgrown with briar and brambles,
Thorns and nettles strewn in disarray;
A loathsome path of broken dreams, and yet,
Willingly I walk it each day
This path that hurts not the feet, but the heart,
Where roiling streams overflow their banks,
And burning cinders comingle with ice --
An affirmation of Life's cruel pranks!
What is it that prompts my unwavering steps?
The love that greets me at journey's end!
The ghost of a love lost so long ago
Leaps boundaries only love can transcend
What pain I endure to savor love's bliss!
On this path, blazed by temerity,
I fly past the graveyard of ill-fated dreams
To a love that defies mortality
How weary I've grown trying to understand
Why such perfect love incurred God's wrath;
And now all that's left are the memories
That await me at the end of this path
Jun 28, 2023
Jun 28, 2023 at 1:17 PM UTC
hey butch
who ya kiddin'
you ain't no cowboy
no how
stick with ice hockey
now step aside
takes a lot more
slip it in a trollop
my grandpa shot better
hung 'em up to dry
in our back yard
on tremont street
under nevada sky
I learnt a noose knot
to catch my lizards
sold that snake
food with other gizards
I ******** caribou
and run them to a gallop
I knock off mafia heads
I take out cutters
florida boys don't scare me none
don't believe me
come and get me
find out for yourselves
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC