Consumed with thoughts of innocence, youthfulness and vigor
Never understood the attraction between a boy and a girl
Never understood for I was just a slender spoon...
Writing, playful - never thought I'd act the fool.
In my heart there was nothing.
Nothing of substance, thought, not even a care.
There was no one…
Just a slender spoon living just to survive and not to be seen.
Then I traveled and laid bare my eyes intertwining with yours.
Never a word... a word we didn't say for you were strange...
Strange to my eyes and I was too strange for yours.
So we looked on, clueless of the storm we'd cause today.
And so under that hat you smiled at first glimpse of my beauty.
A black woman, innocent but not without fault.
How could that be...ahhhh?
Then you became curious...
Curious about that slender spoon and what she was capable of.
You now know her thoughts and I...and she knows yours.
Unaware... that man under the hat, that black felted hat would later be a man with a ring...
That slender spoon... the beauty that shone under the sun would no longer be naive, indifferent… but she later became someone who had your interest at heart.
....that slender spoon later became a woman with a ring and the man under that hat became the one… the one who gave that ring,

That man under the hat....
The masculinity who wore that hat
…It was the man who wore that felted hat.

Once there was a simple song, from which all songs did spring,
It was smooth, soft and sweet - 'Twas a pretty thing.
But the song grew tired - For so long had it sung alone
That bereft of a simple love, it returned to it's single home.
And through the morning forests, and through the far-off seas,
The early things set to waiting for the Song of Autumn Leaves-

And so this song was one day borne, into a waiting world
And captured in the softened form- Of a baby girl.
And this girl would travel the world, blessed with a gift of singing
Praised for her golden voice, revered for her hope and dreaming-
So the forests began to rustle, and the seas soon went to discussing
About this sweet and simple girl, to whom to they turned to trusting
For she was borne to help the healing of a troubled land
Asking nothing in return,to give everything she had
As the years went passing by, she slowly came to think
That no one loved her for her, they only wanted her to sing.
Then she swore to silence, so the forests and seas began to craft
A wooden man with a heart of pearl to help her love and laugh-
Set at the foot of a far-off coast, The wooden man began to look
For the hiding place of the Autumn Song, and as it was it took
Years before he found her, And the winds grew colder on each,
Without her voice to guide him, she was never within his reach.
So he climbed to the top of a mountain, and gazed out to look afar
And spied her lying in a moonlit field, in the Valley of the Falling Star.
So quickly he went to her, and in the valley set to easing her mind
Tickling her with a leafy branch - She laughed for the first time!
And he told her stories, of things he had done and seen
When trying desperately to find her, so that her eyes began to gleam.
And then quite gently, he asked her what was wrong
And smiling so beautifully, she obliged him with a song-
And the song moved him so, that the wooden man began to cry,
And when his sappy tears touched him, the wooden man came alive!
And the joy the two discovered was a thing of natural beauty,
And their love became a legend - It was so soft, sweet and soothing
That it stood in song for ages hence, an example of what could be
When mankind mingles with sound, of when music and nature meet.

My vision was blurred
And your voice was only a distant echo.
I tried to reply, but my words were slurred
So all you heard was a garbled mess.
You said that I was "too difficult"
As my throat clenched, holding back *****.
You turned, claiming it wasn't my fault,
But as I stumbled after you, I knew it was.
My mind was slow, fuzzy, as I tried to recall
All the times you carried me home.
All the times I was too far gone to walk steadily.
And I realized suddenly that I'd been a burden.
That you resented me for those times I needed you.
But I also remembered how hurtful you were,
How you tormented me, controlled me.
I cried myself to sleep all alone that night.
I woke up with a headache, still sick about losing you.
But I gathered myself and thought for a long while.
I may have been a burden, but you were an instigator.
You never gave me the love I deserved for loving you.
I can let you go now, for
I believe the end of us was your fault, your mistake;
I was only under the influence of heartbreak.

I don't understand our society nowadays
Sometimes including myself.
We have right of speech,
but sometimes we are too afraid to speak up
The government has said we are free to speak
about anything we want and we will no be punished
not in legal ways
And if there are millions talking about hate
about drugs, alcohol, smoking and other addictions
than why are we so afraid to speak up! \
about the truth
about life
about our salvation
about the only and absolute truth!!!
GOD!!!!
Because we are ashamed?
Because we care about the opinion of the world?
Because we are afraid of rejection?
Well Jesus was not ashamed of me
when we died on the cross
And Jesus spoke to the world about a new life
and he is sitting on a throne now
He was rejected by those he came to save
and still he lives in a kingdom now
As or those who crucified him
and rejected him
and the worlds that let him down
And the ones who shamed him
as well as the world today
that says their truths
and deny absolute truth
Hear this, you CAN be FORGIVEN....
Because that is who he died for
Sinners, like you and me,
and that is why he let a crown o jewels for a crown of thorns
Because of love.
I will no longer be afraid
I want to feel like the Lord as in
Hate the sin
but love the sinner
I shatter down the spirit
of divorce
abortion
gay/lesbian/*******
and all the lies that lie among these
For the Lord is my savior!

Blessed are the mild and long-suffering,
for they alone shall inherit the earth;
their happiness and contentment comes…
from only understanding their Godly worth.

Not worried about accusations against me-
my Lord continues to defend His children.
My Lord is the eternal and heavenly advocate
and His Blood overcomes all affects of sin.

Real meekness… is strength under control,
while gentleness demonstrates self-constraint
in the midst of trying, difficult circumstances
and walking in genuine Love without complaint.

I’m able to endure any, ungodly responses,
when acknowledging my dependence on Christ.
I will eventually receive the comfort of God,
from standing on His promises… for my life.
.
.
.
Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Matt 5:5; Phil 4:12-13

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

I lay one night under a wan lamp-light
Thinking of the pursuit of absolutes.
I couldn’t find the needed time
To analyze what I wanted to.

So - This thinking slowly turned to dreaming
And later these few things I did recount,
- A vacant view of wasting progress,
A reversal of streams to their fount.

A deconstruction of action, some cosmic reduction,
Some flight of things that mattered.
The inexorable picking of lock-step existing-
Dreamfields broken. Syntax battered.

Then this slowing movement rose
To some crest in my mocking mind;
And in horror, I met the morrow
with new respect for the conceptually refined-

For the march of progress, the passion in potential,
The power of merely thinking!
For in our discourses of absolute forces
What could be worse than the erasure of meaning?

The sun, so lover-like, ran her fingers
Through the glistening leaves,
Movements soft, so full of intention
Their waxy dew, shuttered in response,
A low moan played in the breeze,
The light of sonority contrasts the electric
Disharmonies in the stormy afternoon.

Though I could feel a forest now eased
The river that runs through
Carried the blood of a plural heart
Beating with a passion akin in power, though enemy in fashion,
As its waves beat the banks
Eroding them into, eating up the aridness
As though slaking were its due, muddying the sky’s blue
From its surface, piercing the eyes from its reflection
Discouraging, this turbid froth, from worth of further inspection.

It rages and rages over rocks so violently
Picking at its slimming walls, making and claiming
Detritus along the path so that all the beauty a river is
Crashes, collides, and disfigures—a chaos growing
Bigger and bigger—the speed of its wrath
Bespeaks of its wake, blasting the earth (Watch it dissipate!)
Out of my sight it runs its due course south
Spitting the detritus that arrives
At the mouth.