"vial" poems
...about to do FORTY YEARS...
**how much
more do
you need
to see
that you
are in
a tyranny?**
This is akin to handing Socrates a poisoned vial
Dre,
in his new documentary on HBO...
he says,
if it doesn't feel right
I'M OUT.
* Does THIS feel right? *
a million+white kids feel yah,
a million plus
feel
yah
TIME
TO GET OUT!
9/29/2017
If I were a White Judge,
Man
what i would give to
have gone to law school
and been a White Judge
Right Now
A Black Capitalist acts like J.P. Morgan
* *"Off the chain I leave CONGRESS soft in the brain cause SCUMBAGS still want the fame,
off the name, First of all, you ain't STOLE long enough to be fu ckin with me
and you, you ain't strong enough
So whatever it is you puffin on that got you think that you
Superman I got the Kryptonite, should I smack him with my **** and the mic?"* *
-DMX (sic)
reverse
psychology
works
don't it?
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 6:02 PM UTC
I'm looking deep into her eyes
*Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door*
Wait..really? OK...I open the door.
*This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.
The path leads to a third door*
O...K. I open the door.
*This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down, deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--*
A door?
A door.
I open the door
The door is locked. The key might be under the mat
Seriously? I check under the mat
Nope, not there. Maybe try under the small rock next to the door
Oh for the love of...I check the rock
There is a key
Wonderful...I unlock and open the door
*Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance. At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain*
Sigh I pull aside the curtain
There is a door
Come on! I open the ruddy door.
*You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner*
What.
*You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you*
What!? Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!
*The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials. Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death. The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room. You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated*
What the hell is this!?
This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes
No, this is insanity!
15 seconds
OK! Geez! Umm..Vial Number 2!
You're totally dead
Oh god!
Just kidding. None of them had poison...was just messing with you
THAT'S IT! I'M DONE WITH THIS
Really? There's only one more door. I swear
...Fine. What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.
*It's already open. You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center. On the pedestal is a hand
written note. On that note is the key to everlasting happiness*
I pick up the note
*You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.*
What does the note say?
*My love:
Next Tuesday Only -- Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza. Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons. Must present coupon upon purchase. Expires 1/14/14*
...An expired coupon for Pizza?
Such a wonderful expression of love!
How do I get out of here...
You see a door
.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Toting the mysterious bundle and sporting a sore back
I drag my feet up the last few steps, expended of vigour
I almost couldn't resist prematurely looking through the sack
Remembering the words from the wise old seer
Grimacing I walk a slow gait to get to the table
Set the bundle down and relieve my weight onto a chair
Parched throat but wait longer I am unable
Curiosity takes charge and into the gift I will tear
Blood is pumping along with an increasing heart rate
Fingers scrambling clumsily over the strings that bind
Nails digging frantically into this package bearing my fate
Gnawing thoughts of uncertainty flooding my mind
At last my fingers win the battle that lasted
The final string has fallen... Obstinate knots all undone
I pick the cloth by the edges to have it unfolded
The contents inside reach out like rays of the sun
Corners of the cloth open up like a fully bloomed blossom
Exposing the treasure that lay solemn and quiet inside
Common objects we'd normally perceive as random
Petty things now important as they attempt to guide
I pick up the first and notice an engraving on it's stem
Between my fingers - an unassuming feathered quill
Barely legible, such little space the words do cram
"Here is your sword... Draw blood and let spill"
More riddles, I sought to examine the next
A flat bottomed vial filled with jet black ink
On it is a label with scrawling of time worn text
"Here is your blood; let flow what you think"
Lastly, lay bound up sheets of yellow stained parchment
They reek of age-old herbs; intoxicating slightly
At the top of the first, a note scribbled not so recent
"Within these pages, you must bleed to find Sanctuary"
Staring down at the objects laid in front of me
In hopes of discovering something I should miss
Then finally it struck me, so plain to see
I'm using the instruments now, writing to find release...
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
never mistake the spilled blood of a lover in a glass vial to be red wine.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
I got a text today with news that was
a long time coming.
But that fact didn't make receiving it
a single bit easier.
Working in pharmacy is
high stress
low thanks,
Gotta develop quite the
thick skin.
But some patients are different.
They become favorites,
your smiles to them are genuine,
you share hugs with them,
your heart twists at their struggles,
and you rejoice in their triumphs.
You come to love them.
The problem with that connection is,
when they die,
they take a piece of you with them.
You'll no longer
see their name on your computer screen,
pour their medication into a vial,
have them brighten your day.
Working in pharmacy is
high stress
low thanks
But the worst part is when a patient is gone
and you don't get to tell them goodbye
or how much they meant to you.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
Brewing a love potion is quite simple to do, a feather of a dove, and something from you.
A dash of sweet sugar, and bubblegum chewed. Yes, making a love potion is quite simple to do.
The voice of an angel must sing the spell and the holder of the heart shaped vial must never tell.
You cannot acheive greatness without these things, and without your potion you'll have knights - not kings.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
The Warden announces; as the Diseased children cower in fear,
The mother stands beside the Warden.
"Evy'body remain calm, The Plague doc'or is 'ere!"
May God forbid; That you ever see that Mask,
Those cloaks, those masks,
those herbs and flasks...
It creeps towards the children; Looming in the silence.
equipped with little mind for medicine, a cane for violence.
Those soulless eyes,
the Putridly herbal aroma close, they despise,
but this masked creature ignores their cries.
The warden feeding mother Lies.
Dimly lit the cold room,
the pungent fume,
''I'll leave 'im to it"
The warden leaves.
but the Doctor stays and silently breathes.
Question on the matter if this Doctor's even Sane,
As it stares upon the child then whips him with the cane.
No Law defies,
the Mother Cries.
Pulling out it's Vials of vial Herbs, this Freak,
Staring coldly around the silent room, pointing everywhere, it's beak.
It passes the two Children pouches of leaves; Mother grieving,
everybody remain Calm, The Plague Doctor is leaving!
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 7:06 AM UTC
I gave you my love,
Made your heart feel the love,
And yet you denied my love.
I was to love you,
You and I forever.
Say you love me,
That is all I ask.
Say you need me,
As I need you.
Say this love is,
Is the love of a life time.
You shall remorse the night
You took my love.
For I the dark angel
Want repayment with
Your blood.
I will be the voice in the wind,
The voice which will haunt
Your dreams.
The voice which will
Call to you.
You were once my
Everything, the only
Thing that had mattered.
Then my love was
Shattered, wishing you were
Once again near.
Sometimes if it seemed if
I had just dreamed again,
You would be here.
The irony of the dream
Is you never came,
But I will every night,
And haunt your desire.
You shall pay
Pay for this with blood.
I will get my fulfillment
From haunting your thoughts.
That fate which will
Condemn you to
Wallow in blood,
This fate which you
Choose that night.
The night you decide to
Behold the love I gave you
For granted.
I shall not take compassion
In you,
I will now take a diminutive
Vial of Blood!
Just a sufficient amount to make
You never awake
This dream state again.
You will pay for your sins,
Which will haunt you
For an eternity.
I shall sentence my lover,
Sentence her to death,
This is the choice you have made,
My angel.
For whichever way you
Decide you will not win.
You deceived me,
Now it is time to meet
Your destiny.
Bleed my angel,
And before long we shall unite,
Once again.
Breath deep,
Bleed fast,
Pay for your sins
And die for me.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
Enticing poppy,
an unwitting aid,
one vial of your blood
they **** to accrue.
I’ve never felt you
course deep through my veins
yet, my soul's tarnished,
family destroyed.
**** you, sweet flower,
repossess your gift
that eats from within.
We’ve no want for the
paltry donation
encased in syringe.
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 12:23 PM UTC
)
o ( ( (
O ) ( )
) ( o
( ( ( O
) o ) O ) o
( O ( o ( )
) o ) (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•**
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
When Ebola’s fever begins to rage,
The prognosis isn’t nice,
Monoclonal antibodies
are needed from three mice.
The mice must first become exposed
to a weakened viral strain.
Their antibodies harvested
and combined with those of man.
Strangely the proteins that we need
are grown best in a ****
A modified tobacco plant
will do the job indeed.
The serum, that derives from plants,
had not had human trials.
(but eight of ten young chimpanzees
endorse what’s in that vial.)
Our missionaries, sick unto death
were clearly in no position
to refuse to try the medicine
that might provide remission.
Their rebound was miraculous.
To Atlanta now they fly.
Man finds himself in debt to a mouse.
“Good job, little guy!”
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
There is ***** for sale and wombs for rent
For same *** couples it’s cash well spent.
While heterosexuals breed their own
Gay couples, as yet, cannot clone.
A lesbian couple who had the itch
is suing their ***** bank for “bait and switch”.
They wanted a Caucasian baby
and had requested ***** from vial “380”.
The donor of that ***** was white,
Handsome, smart, just “not their type”
They were given another’s ***** instead
And an interracial child was bred.
It seems they were given vial “330”
The vials, it seems, were marked unclearly.
An honest mistake by a nearsighted boomer?-
or one with a twisted sense of humor?
A civil suit will go to trial
seeking damages for a mixed race child.
If their motion to dismiss should meet denial
The “bank” will suffer premature withdrawal.
In which event bankruptcy looms
For the bank that supplies the ***** for wombs.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
The sun is shining
Filling me up
I am a vial
I take it in
I let it make me beautiful
I let it light my eyes up
And transform them into shining moons
I let the sunshine make me beautiful
I let it make me into a beaming vial of light
In hope that it will
Brighten
The world
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
Why don't I just throw it all in your face
And see if I can escape this ******* place
Use a diversion to escape
Drive away listen to that old cassette tape
Can't I get away for a little while
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away sounds like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
Before I set up this battle and war
I need to know and reassure you of the score
You lead by exactly one
So its in your best interest to turn and run
I will kick your ******* skull in
I can guarantee the win
I don't where to start or where to end
Cause even know I don't know what is around the bend
Can't I get away for a little while
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away sounds like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
I recall a time once ago
Where you were an angel not a ***
Back then we were together
With hopes of it being forever
Ha, when I think of that now
I can see why it came crumbling down
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Can't I get away for awhile
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away seems like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
oh but my love is not
a red, red rose.
i chose to replace
every tear on my face
with dying embers
of every memory
you said you would remember.
i trust
that you must know
that i am not a summer's day,
i will never play
at being warm
or temperate.
you can berate
me for not knowing
whether i am to be
or not to be,
but forgive me
if i don't play by the rules
and exit
the right stage
in a wrong scene.
it just means
that your music
is not the food of my love.
i will continue to shove
your thoughts
under a carpet of denial.
do not throw away
any vial you might find
in my room,
you sealed my doom
when you stomped down
that staircase,
tripping on the last time
we went for a walk.
my face doesn't run
smooth like the course of love,
you should have known
this truth.
my eyes are not rose petals,
my heart not a white dove,
my love
when they say hell is empty,
they haven't been inside
my mind -
here
you'll find horrors
of a sweet kind.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
I breathed anger and I spit rage,
and with the coming of the new age,
I burnt the heart of my sage,
I grew with every turn of a page,
I shot fire from my spirit as a mage,
I went past the final astral stage,
I broke the confines of my cage,
let loose the golden goose eggs,
who knew I'd be so strange.
As a child I was so wild never had a happy smile it was a form of style that came from a vile inside I was in denial living life out a vial I was going to survive the trial acid trip for more than a mile this lasted longer than a while,
and now here I am,
a grown man,
trying to understand,
why I don't have a plan,
I guess I'm banned,
from the grand,
scheme of things,
fiends with dreams,
of capturing souls,
trading them for goals,
sum lumps of coals,
spiritual moles,
digging underground holes,
hiding away,
hiding from day,
I don't care what they say,
I'll live my way.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
Osiris is not a viable option,
The rays of him are toxic,
One must err on the side of caution,
One mustn't take in the toxins.
Not with a serpents gaze of night ,
I am the gleam in their very eyes,
The twilight of people's lives,
The shine dwindling with time.
Street lights conjoin with the void,
As loss and gain meet with choice,
The old teach young about voice,
Lack thereof and unspoken poise.
Lines have gathered across the head,
Along with emotions, swirling regrets,
Primal fear creeps up ones neck,
The remainder of memories to forget.
I haven't slept for I have wept
I
Am
No
King
I haven't sang for I have pain
I
Am
No
King
I haven't laughed for I am ******
Keep
On
Looking
I haven't smiled for I am vile
You
Won't
Find
Me
For she dwells within me
A potion within a vial
Searching for answers,
Answers that have long since forgotten the questions,
As words have forgotten poems,
Poems that have forgotten books,
Books that have forgotten shelves,
And you, who has forgotten me,
Although you live here, my Isis.
You do not have the mind,
To know that I dream of you,
With me, as one in the same,
Glimmers of hope which make way,
For back breaking pain, and disdain
As you say, my name, I sob, I pray,
You encounter the soul provider,
Whom you alone, deserve.
Deciphering the hieroglyphics,
The depth of my chambers,
Such an undertaking,
Is only for those not wary,
Of rude awakenings and laws,
Forsaking the freedom of my bonds,
Which hold my place, along the gate,
Which controls my fate.
Bonds of loathing and taunting
Specters of faceless smiles
Messages of nameless moans
Titles and spiteful rivals,
Bring cries of despair and tears,
Which shatter the floor beneath,
Uncovering layers of disgust,
Skin deep, is the source of vanity.
Vanity meaning fleeting importance,
For it, death, life, joy, fear, hope,
And melancholy; know nothing,
As they are simply the effects,
But not the causes of the ruckus,
The frozen coating of ocean surface,
Ignorant to the swelling below,
Waiting for a chance to bring Diablo.
I
Am
No
King
You
Won't
Find
Me
Strip
Me
Of
My
Crown
And
Bury
Me
My
Queen
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
She stopped breaking laws when she
started breaking hearts
Bottled tears in the vial around her neck
She lays in bed like a spider in their web
They say curiosity killed the cat but in this story
Curiosity killed you
And you love kissing her because she is not like the others
She does not pull away out of shame
She kisses hard like brick on brick on window pane
no face aflame
And you love ******* her because she does not hide away
Begs you more more more
She stopped breaking laws when she
Started breaking hearts
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
She was in a panic; her husband was dead,
while the fear of dread had filled her head.
The local creditor wanted to enslave her sons;
she desired to keep her family from being undone.
She observed the seriousness of her situation
and sought the prophet for an inspired solution.
In their meeting, Elisha asked about her resources,
to determine a course of action, for him to endorse.
“With my spouse gone, my finances have been despoiled;
all that is left, is but a small container of oil.”
“Listen carefully my sister, and I’ll instruct you
with the needed wisdom, for your divine break-through.
Seek out your neighbors, for many, empty pots and jars;
be diligent in your search, with friends, near and far.
Once you have completed your first task of collection,
lock yourselves inside, with the jars in your possession.
Then take your original vial of olive oil and begin to pour,
filling each, empty vessel, behind the safety of your door.
For once you start, you will see the blessings of God flow,
according to your level of faith, His grace He will bestow.”
One at a time, she filled a cleaned vessel and set it aside;
when she was finished, her and her family were teary-eyed.
Upon further instruction, she sold the oil, paid her debts,
and was thankful, that their future needs were… completely met.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Kings 4:1-7
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
The days grow longer when you're alone,
Daggers sharpen, still stuck in your back.
The blood has drained you're left with bone,
And a heart that's vigorously turning black.
The headstones are plenty, plots they thicken,
Life grows sadder as people disappear.
The selfish coyote claims the chicken,
Before taking a glance in the mirror.
Love grows stronger for those who stay,
Remaining there forever by your side.
But forever is a word with play,
Tears come quicker having tried.
Laughing is seldom when you abolish the smile,
The more you think the less you do.
There is no cure, you'll find no vial,
Losing self respect amidst the truth.
The time you invest, do so with care,
Don't let the past hinder you with resistance.
Excuses are easy, hard work is the dare,
The challenge of your existence.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
In the coven’s cavern
Dark and dusky
Wart and Weird
A potion are planning
Boiling and bubbling
The cauldron they caress
Eye of emu
Finger of fiend
Mutter and mumble
Hair of hare
Claw of cat
Splash and sparks
With a wicked whisper
A **** and a poke
A whip of a wand
Silent strangling smoke
Covered beneath her cloak
A vile vial full
The murderous magic made
A dead baron as bade
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
There are two opposing things that define me: a poignant in eulogy, a melancholia in a deep blue sky and
a parallel and current;
it is boundless.
My love is an empty cage, grown in an innocent body, tearing flesh by flesh,
yearning mouth by mouth, a chest is a garden full of butterflies, my veins is a vial of momentary currents and curves molded to each caresses of something that lingers.
These parallels are a loose thread that bounds a brokenness, and on each pull of the gravity, I would ache to skin and bone.
_It is boundless._
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 12:18 AM UTC
Sixty years ago, you could have loved me
- a sailor, - a trophy wife, - an 'okay, fiancé' in a sarcastic legacy
A turn of the century turns you around and turns you into a (skate! jam! live in a van!) type of person that I am vastly uninterested in but just tryin' to be sad about somethin'
- I am sad about your big feet, your cuffed trousers, all the places I didn't want to run into you at and not letting that stop me from carting my coffin to Kansas City art museums
(Your love poems to me must be dried in caked-on mud from tires pulling away)
Did you know you're an accident?
- The whole crowd laughs, someone get me a microphone!
(Someone! Get me anything your mouth has touched!)
- I'll bury a vial of your organic germs in my hometown backyard to find later, when you're dead as your dangling doorknobs and disguised by giggling gargoyles (you are welcome, by the way)
Ultimate hide 'n' seek warrants a worthless existence and a holy trinity of the same name(s)
(The dog is under the bed)
(You are locked out on the back porch)
(I am fetal position in a parked car)
- Can we put this on the Christmas card?
Happy Twentieth, Darling! I Love You Very, Very, Very, Very Much.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
August still catches in my head like that Manhattan melody
when he was my little vial of Novocaine.
when the moon showed her face and we slept on my floor
and our knees and hips and
shoulders—all the hinges of our bodies—washed with
a twilight of mauve and Bordeaux.
And one night he painted me with
two rows of clenched teeth—dipping in and out of white pools of Selene.
I have a bed now that he has left
with sheets that billow on the right side,
with real blankets that aren't hospital blankets.
And he is my little vial of Novocaine
that took a train to states away. And the miles
between have left me with a weight in my chest that I'm sure fell from
his suitcase. I've got
bones made of buildings,
and a metropolitan heart,
and a steady smile
knowing this same moon hangs over him and that borough.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC