"transparently" poems
Blown away in a moment, asunder,
by a breeze with a feel of shudder.
Blown from within the bone,
above my head, transparently shown.
I'm being ripped from tip to toe,
like from mother, without a woe.
The gush, it rings in the ears,
the stream is absent of my deepest fears.
Got rived - it was like nothing else;
Blown away in a second,
apart from all my cells.
Like silk in the hands of a weaver,
it is pleasant, yet I shiver.
Like a cup of cold water after a mint,
all across my body, comfortably skinned.
I didn't knew that I'll get clutched,
I never asked, to be touched.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Both latter and former, contrary and congruent
Neither gas nor solid, the river moves fluid.
No end and no beginning, just water moving… swimming…
A formless former that is a powerful latter
Contradiction through symmetry and space within matter
Passively energetic as potential becomes kinetic
Transparently reflective and silently phonetic
Thermally dynamic and fluidly frantic
The waters maintain a static chaos through mathematical mechanics.
Mechanically architected and architecturally mechanic
Water seems the perfect medium for analysis of a dynamic.
Dynamic existence and persistent resistance
Statically chaotic seems the architect’s insistence.
Equilibriomatic, with addition subtractive
Empirical measures fail to analyze the passive.
What simply is, simply is… Invincible to mimicry or microcosmic reenactment.
Experimental methods seek to unify the synonymous
Attempting to prove the objective with a subjective hypothesis.
Learn from the water, let its metaphor be imminent….
For the divine externality lies not without, but within it.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
I am Bear Lady
and you are Toucan Man —
Fur and feathered backs
against a striped tent.
Cut-off like tickets,
crowds melting Dali-like
in the distance
from crystalline eyes,
frozen in time…
Wings graze skin and
fur can’t compete.
The electricity of
our eccentricity
is freakish,
yet with every touch,
I feel less like a freak.
My history
of hoop jumping
tightrope walking,
and captivity
dissolve transparently
as I search deep,
deep,
deep,
into supernova eyes —
they outshine
this circus life,
this love for applause,
the performance inside.
As I gaze into
frozen pools,
the broken chords
of carny music
da da da-da-da-da drown.
The morning quiet,
muddled coffee grinds
are sensitive and silent,
chilling me to the soul.
Earth, a peripheral,
to pupils that absorb
mine full-force,
until I can’t see
this galaxy anymore,
save green starbursts,
my light source.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
He loved her fierce.
Like the breath would be stolen from his body
If he left her side for a moment of peace,
Or a cup of tea with a friend.
And when she broke his heart the first time
I watched him gasp for air.
He acted as though his sun was gone
And he grew cold.
The second time, he loved her fierce,
But careful.
And she loved him transparently.
The day she found her tongue dancing with another she blamed him.
The second time she broke his heart,
I watched the scrapes and scabs on his knuckles tell his story.
The anger, hurt, the tears that he wouldn’t let anyone see.
He swore never again.
And the third time he loved her,
It was only fierce.
His endless “I love you,” drowning in her
Finger-crossed promises that he holds high above his head.
And I watch him pull away
And I watch him gasp for air
And I watch him chain himself to her
And I wish she loved him fierce.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
pretty names, but you have the prettiest.
angel's white dust pushed around by
the dingy desert winds dry meadow murmurs.
heated leather seats, **** smooth leather pants
and slender, skinny beautiful body with
a name attached to it, smoke smelled
of burnt raspberries
and the conversation burned like them too,
i feel things for you and perhaps
transparently similiar damage
bleeding rubies out like sap
the conversations dripped like sap too.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
The dialogue,
The volume,
The content..
It gets better right?
The petty,
The put-downs,
Vocal *****
Too often why I'm up at night.
Egocentrism,
Carelessness,
And Irresponsibility.
Yet I'm the sewer rat not living up to my ability.
The toxic street withers me,
Too much debt to free,
I can predict the machines' actions almost constantly.
The happenings follow me,
What I see hollows me,
Will I ever emerge from this filth triumphantly?
It's the insanity I wake up to,
The vanity and the same stew.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what I have to go through.
It's grown ever-plain to see,
This isn't the way, that life should be,
But it's tossed onto the pile I've simply named "the pain in me."
No luminosity around to save selves,
Violent sound waves bounce off of every shelf.
Through these waters I have delved,
But no life-preserver,
No help.
I am unable to manipulate,
I'm just part of the tracks.
Desensitization's turned me from an alley cat,
To sewer rat,
Just by being exposed.
So I crawl through these tunnels with nothing but hope,
That there's a way I can go back..
Reverse the de-evolution I suppose,
And return to a world I thought I knew with humanity.
'Til then I scrape on living a life, transparently.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
We share the bliss; the leaves fall to the floor.
Then we kiss, who knows what for.
It’s now a quarter till four .
We dismiss the screaming *****
who left her litter for us to ignore.
Tonight, She feels lucky,
standing outside of Ricky Jay’s bar.
As she waits beside a stranger’s car
, little does she know,
He’s not into infidelity.
The asphalt absorbs the neon glow.
The ***** adores the white alley cat.
We wonder how she got here
We imagine her story.
She was strong like a bear
, but is now a short term circuit Dory.
We fell for the despair of her misfortune.
The town drunk passed on the close margin.
We left and took the moon out for a walk
I began to talk,
“Will that be us when we’re 33?”
She took a moment to ponder
She faced me and replied
with an upside down smile
, “I’m no fortune teller,
but we would have been far better off
if you didn’t break my heart.”
She said enough.
Thankfully she did… I had to ****
I let you have your head start
I then followed after you
I found you hiding in an abandoned canoe.
With a gaping hole intervening the lost canoe
Nowhere near a reflecting stream.
She wiped off her ****** cream
The puncture wound
, separates us from common ground.
I sat across from her,
We began to reminisce about Denver
On that cold night last November
Taking a break from the big tour
Sharing one bed in a hotel room
We kept our luggage packed
Thinking we may never go back
We held each other warm and tight.
Now under the pale blue moonlight
Back in the canoe, Autumn’s early breeze
Sends shivers through our knees.
Gazing at you,
I wish to give something true.
Holding your hand whispering,
“Finally, near to a full year.
I overcame the fear
, here’s to you kid.
I feel the same way you did
these same exact words;
now transparently clear
that you whispered in my ear.
On a cold night in late November.
TJW2013
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Both latter and former, contrary and congruent
Neither gas nor solid, the river moves fluid.
No end and no beginning, just water moving… swimming…
A formless former that is a powerful latter
Contradiction through symmetry and space within matter
Passively energetic as potential becomes kinetic
Transparently reflective and silently phonetic
Thermally dynamic and fluidly frantic
The waters maintain a static chaos through mathematical mechanics.
Mechanically architected and architecturally mechanic
Water seems the perfect medium for analysis of a dynamic.
Dynamic existence and persistent resistance
Statically chaotic seems the architect’s insistence.
Equilibriomatic, with addition subtractive
Empirical measures fail to analyze the passive.
What simply is, simply is… Invincible to mimicry or microcosmic reenactment.
Experimental methods seek to unify the synonymous
Attempting to prove the objective with a subjective hypothesis.
Learn from the water, let its metaphor be imminent….
For the divine externality lies not without, but within it.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
…I am a fraud
I pretend I’m a poet, tell people I am –
but I can’t be
poetry is the only place inside of us,
that spot inside us
the precise point –
where you and I
can ever possibly
meet
Poetry is the space,
place, between us
where our real selves,
(our godly souls)
could hopefully
meet
It’s is an invitation,
a crafted document
invisibly appearing
in the center of the room
artistically conceived
and heavenly borrowed
humbly human
in delivery and speed.
if you’re lucky enough.
honest enough
transparently apparent enough
if your poetry is good enough
God could shoot right though you!
like arrow-flames from Avatar
traveling through the words
moving without sound
if your honest enough, if you could face yourself,
and you’re not a fraud….
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
Our bed is the epitome of careless love
singing,
_“Blue caress, blue sheets, blue dove”_
But creaking like broken bones
And eyes so sleep deprived
This voice was cracking
And failed to verse the final line.
So this is what we call rosy then
A bare thorn without a flower?
Your music transparently
repeats our chilling song
But still you sing,
_“Blue promise, blue jay, blue flame”_
And with the softest blow
We always fade away
As bells softly chime
A ringing cry,
_“Blue dreams, blue freedom, blue winged bird of mine.”_
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 7:06 AM UTC
****** so what if I'm not perfect.
So what if I'm not good enough for anyone
So what if I don't stand out from the rest
You all were going to leave me anyways.
Sorry I'm not at your transparently high level
See you later when you fall.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
Someone like you, I want to be able to share to the world as my own. Standing a bit over 5 feet above the ground, you carry so much power in that vessel you wear protecting a soul with a capable heart which you show transparently. Letting the world know your true colors, adding this beautiful mosaic of your once blank canvas, and it grows in value creating a price of priceless, where no one can claim to wager a soul like yours. Blessed with a gift, where all you are able to do is share it, but refrain from abusing your individuality at the same time as remaining a queen where you sacrifice it all, reminding others it's not about you, but it is for them. And that is what we need, in this spherical planet which breeds life that we call earth.
I wish for someone like you to be the one I can share to the world as my own. Your presence lights up a room filled with nothing but darkness and ugly, giving birth to illuminance of something which presented no value or any worth. But you shown to us the beauty of it all.
Blessed would be the one you marry for a strong woman is eternity and something all men should acquire. Just keep in mind that hearts are somewhat like a blanket, keeping you warm, but if you leave it somewhere else you cannot claim it as your own anymore.
So, wear your powerful heart, but keep it out of the reach of others, and create a sphinx to be the keeper of your divinity where only the first to solve the riddle earns a piece of you. Not giving them the power of owning you, but the ability to call you theirs. For your are a white dove amongst a crowd of black crows in search of something new, something pure and special. Finding someone like you.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
some punk rock band on the radio
plays transparently hopeful echoes of some quick romance
while she lounges on the couch in a see-thru dress
smoking expensive french cigarettes
her dreadlocks spread round in the morning sunlight
but her sunglasses out of context in the small room
she is the definitive architecture of **** cool
tapping a painted finger nail on the wood in time with the tune
her lips mirror the the lyrics perfectly
its a weeping time tale to hear her past out from
the start of her humble jungle of a childhood
to her trips along the nile river photographed so well
she's an open book translated from street etiquette
to manicured lawns of the greasy richy riches
and back again
the room holds many scents
roses from her bedspread
stale leaves burning from those parisian cigarettes
and her delicate and elusive perfume that my mind
wraps itself up in with such intense images of
my lips grazing the nape of her neck
i walk across the uneven floor of the small room
and land myself slowly up against her warm body
we talk softly
the hour drifts by like dust falling in the still air
disappears like the punk song
fading into echoes
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
She’s rosy
Or ice cold
Jealous and envious
In bright shades of green
Changing every second
She can’t make up her mind
Flickering from one thought to the next
Moods shifting and sliding
Through bipolar extremes
Arctic ideas
Swirl in her head
She sings
In an eerie lament
Listen
She paints her world
Across the sky
The emotion shows transparently
Not hiding the vivid red anger
Or the tender deep ocean pain
Her soul is clear,
Untouched, and easy to read
Moving and running through the night
Flying brushstrokes unleashed in the darkness
Brighter than flames
The reckless fire burns higher
Reaching the stars
Atmospheres away
No longer hidden
By the harsh light of day
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 5:16 PM UTC
Learn from Apostle Paul’s and Job’s life lessons,
for faith’s gold will be tested and purified;
tribulations are faced by God’s daughters and sons,
but only through Christ - can one be justified.
The troubles of the day will eventually find us;
but will you be prepared by the principles of Love?
Remember the divine words of the Lord Christ Jesus
and draw strength from His righteous Kingdom above.
The rain falls on both the Just and Unjust;
so you might as well expect to get wet;
develop an atmosphere of faith and in Him trust;
live your life transparently without regrets.
So open your spiritual eyes and plan ahead;
develop a Godly relationship that’s versatile,
knowing your faith will be surely tested
with the experiences of… God ordained trials.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Cor 12:7-10; Phil 4:11-13; Job; James 1:2-4;
1 Pet 1:6-7; Rom 5:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
Learn from Apostle Paul’s and Job’s life lessons,
for faith’s gold will be tested and purified;
tribulations are faced by God’s daughters and sons,
but only through Christ - can one be justified.
The troubles of the day will eventually find us;
but will you be prepared by the principles of Love?
Remember the divine words of the Lord Christ Jesus
and draw strength from His righteous Kingdom above.
The rain falls on both the Just and Unjust;
so you might as well expect to get wet;
develop an atmosphere of faith and in Him trust;
live your life transparently without regrets.
So open your spiritual eyes and plan ahead;
develop a Godly relationship that’s versatile,
knowing your faith will be surely tested
with the experiences of… God ordained trials.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Cor 12:7-10; Phil 4:11-13; Job; James 1:2-4;
1 Pet 1:6-7; Rom 5:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Hurling curses everywhere,
pitchforks and pistols in everyhand.
The price for silence
flirted with moral opulence.
The minted paper lollipops
credited our hungry accounts;
whilst our future sold in the markets
and our groins thrown in the caskets.
Change is not a criteria to progress
because it is a slutty variable.
Honesty is not a key to political prowess
because it is transparently breakable.
Let the feet do the talking
and the mouth do the standing.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Life is like a weather-man's parade,
A spun-out ride of calamity,
And,
Causation,
Such details lost like blue winds,
In ever-green plateau's
Or high desert mountains,
All of the images,
My mind displays,
Are radiating,
Yet transparently,
Confining themselves,
Into whatever isometric language,
They deem fit
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
I found you in my dream
But only the good parts
In the midst of a hell
You were a protector
A lover holding me close
But it was fleeting
Like all these emotions
Swimming through me
I woke up more empty
Than when I was that night
Alone in the raining snow
Weeping with the winter
This spirit of mine is gone
Resting in the grave
That I dug long ago
I asked to swim in you
And drowned in the lust
As the night falls upon me
My mind drifting away
Along with the sunset
I find the soulless flesh
That still longs for the pain
The ambiguous love
Veiled by sins of humanity
And in this I walk the aisle
A bride to the broken
Like a ******* child
Trying to find the tangible
But only grasping hopes
That linger like dust
Filling my lungs with dirt
A taste I know too well
My fantasy in my bed
Will **** my heart softly
And I will live transparently
As the ghost I have become
I hope these dreams will die
Just like I have a thousand times
You were my vice for too long
I'll bury you with my bones
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
∅☢☯✰✿⚥∅☯✰✿☠☯✰
Religion, you harlot and ****** of the masses
I smell the stagnation you bring upon earth.
Gold becomes lead, in stained roseate glasses
diluting, corrupting, negating its worth.
Hierarchical structure and pseudo-anointing
seem holy— but prove antithetic to Christ
whose transparently sure apostolic appointing
began a new age, and sufficed.
I renounce you, religion. Your temples lie fallen…
the future arises from ruins, ever new.
Mere human unrighteous momentum must stall
when the truth spins around into view.
He was scorned, he was vilified; slain for your sin
Abrahamic philosopher, healer and friend
yet perceived as demoniac right to the end.
His beginning is here in your heart. Never fear:
Dead religion must perish for true love to win.
Hermeneutics imploding—His coming is near
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
flying now erratic circles
I'm the moth who didn't flee
glutinous tongue of careless wind
caught me in a single lick
pulling inexorably into the opening
through the lid ajar I went
above the window sill
and straight into the eyes
of a room clad in light
it's turning warm to hot as I orbit closer
and closer still to the ceiling deity
I came in from the wide open void
I came in from the purposeless
the great free emptiness
where skies were grey and cold
I came in to embrace the bright frail sun transparently imbued
with the gift of gods
I pledge my wings to you
though charred into disfigured trails like brush strokes on some
impressionist painting
No longer are you transparent
no longer am I winged
and for a split-second in suspended animation
it was worth it ten times over
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
Come
Let us not be Mere Slaves anymore!
--
The flesh has been torn open
This we all know
Thru our Singular fear
Our personal
Misery
And Isolation
----
(I still love you completely--
As in the Former Days)
----
We are gentle creatures
We are not meant for this Total War
Come
Let us live Pure
Face Death and see
What we truly are
----
Naked is love
We are much too transparently
Full of
Lies and deceit
----
We who
Have touched the stars!
---
We who have sought for
Found and entered
The fully beating
Sacred Heart!
----
Our minds have been torn open
It is time to heal
-----
Say :
"I love you"
&
Be
only in the mind space
Where
You
Mean it
---
If not?
Let silence take you home
---
Come
Let us be free
Die like heros
And enjoy it
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks" is a quotation from the 1602 play Hamlet by William Shakespeare. It has been used as a figure of speech, in various phrasings, to indicate that a person's overly frequent or vehement attempts to convince others of something have ironically helped to convince others that the opposite is true, by making the person look insincere and defensive.
(So transparently self absorbed. Stay trapped in the box. I've travelled to distant planets and left the waste behind. Sometimes I feel like Charlie Brown listening to all the grown ups "wah wha whaaa....")
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
I am not a prim and proper wedding cake topper.
Nor am I the quick-time drop her, ***** girl offer.
Varied between.
My mind, blind to the shallows of relationship seas.
My feelings run deep like haunting melodies.
Honestly offered.
Complex in my simplicities and transparently guarded.
Running lava-hot inside these walls hard hearted.
Softly contained.
But like a second read to a book that has been skimmed through before.
Welcoming now a chance for someone to want to explore.
©NDHK
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 3:16 AM UTC
if you could back and meet your 5 year old self...
what would you say?
would you tell them who you are?
would you give advice, assuming you wouldn't jeopardize the final product that is you?
or would you let it be...
would you simply observe,
take their perspective into consideration
and try to learn from a simpler,
transparently benevolent state of mind?
the word naive instantly puts forth
the thought of an unintelligent point of view.
but i think to have a mind set,
that of a less-experienced self,
may in fact help a more exposed psyche.
the world is so full, in the sense that,
we learn so much by the time
we are old enough to deem ourselves intelligent,
that we forget to think of things more simply.
we base everything off of mass, habitual tendencies:
the way we are used to thinking instead of
what is right,
or what is logical,
or makes makes sense based off of fact
and not emotion
or instinct of habit.
at the age,
although me may feel it effortless to imagine a sense of self,
we dont do so.
we feel less self conscious
but never think of ourselves from anothers perspective,
not to say we are selfish
but we are reactive in a much more intelligent way
than our minds slowly evolve to be.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC