to the young privateer.
the captain kidd & his bought n’ taut gang of holy bluffs.
they bribe and imbibe and swoon on the dock-way looking for a quest or two or three
to dream and bury their doubloons in island guts like little mysteries. little sundowns
over a rixdollar indian ocean.
let them take a turn.
destined to mutate from private to pirate, the kidd, like blackened rotten wood.
******* frigates.

the ship:
with her bob and sway. she is, the adventure.
& her song is calling out for a rapturous few,
for men ready to die on the highwater mark by glory or fire or dead glorious sun.
so they put her brass and bough to seafaring days,
the sweet galleon, barely wet, yet
completely riffed to voyage.
she is
from the shores of london. built. designed to kick 14 knots under a full sail blast.
& she will bite.

she’s in calm waters.
the kidd savvy toothed and butterscotched, he awaits the big show,
engorged to set forth the play like wily ocean dervish &
they do.
they do proceed with benefactors coined and crunched on postulations of pirate death &
pirate gold. reclaimed honor as they say. the hunt for pirate teeth.

& with official pass and parchment, high-throne approved,
king ***** III stamp & sealed,
this voyage is.
this voyage is and forever was, hereby charted, to recover said stolen goods.
to reclaim thy warrior vanity &/or vengeance.
to noble this **** with pinched loaf, like now.
set sail. now.
1696.

“**** them navy yachts at greenwich, the thames be ours, boys.”
slap *** and flick thumb toward those armada sons,
& as tribute
smoke balsam herbs on the starboard side for the mother she and the father be.
but for this slight,
this dishonorable silly ****,
one third of adventure’s men are pressed into service of the crown.

[continue.]

the adventuresome few, petty crew and crows.
steal the heart and mother-meat of a french ship. steal everything onboard.
steal the ship itself.
& on her way to new york, new boon, pure and entered into the new world.  
there are new men bought in the american port,
good men and odd men of long criminal legacy.
a small black vicious quartermaster. he’ll do.
a murderous preacher gripped by stars and celestial patterns. he speaks spanish. he’ll do.
another type of holy man and a wild drinker too, embattled by demons on the port side. sure.
plus the dock-boys destined to **** for fruits of exploration.
this is the way of the son of a gun.

the boatmen jockeyed. she is
the adventure
prancing the vertebrae of atlantic and beyond. cape of good hope, she
breathes easy out here on the wide tide and float.
out here on the vast blue this. she
evolves
out here. loves out here.

pirates.
the hunt for pirates or the lack thereof. she leaks.
she rasps into the years on. and on.
the kaleidoscope hallucinations of sun and moon, sun and moon, and moon and sun
forever.
the strait of bab-el-mandeb.
& there
she plunges into darkness, into the stars seen from and through a periscope formed
by ancient hominid lineage.
seen but untouched,
in dreams. the kidd, reluctantly lime, admits to his madness.
madagascar.

malaria and cholera and hell break the boat by the throat.
& thrash.
to be organic is to be ruled by a shadow, or entropy.
the mouth of a red sea.
one third of the men will die here.
simply as insects crushed and brushed off deck and into to her great spate of agua,
the mother gush.
her earth.
body.
father,
hear his whispers in the mirage.
the ancient mariner, the ancient holy ghost riming down there.

in destitution.
in a rough and soggy life squeezed and making men weird or violent or both be ******.
the kidd goes cold to hot sweating noxious.
turns pirate himself
out of sheer hunger.
out of sheer need to eat.
sets the boys like dogs upon a frigate of east india company men,
or french *****. either/or/or/either/or.
he & the boys are in a madness swirl of sun and heavy guts.
cuts to spill blood
or gold. this tender bit.
lip bit
& tested.

captain kidd fractures the skull of a deckhand named moore,
for bad attitude and giggles. moore gets death.
chisel on the deck.
& to think we are all troubled by some primal trauma.
some dumb thing called death, that is.
men starving, men dying, men falling in the vast black that is that eternal void.
dream of women and riches in the meantime.
fortunes.
1698.

savage kidd, cool kidd, cool spit
off the edge. to think of the once soulful idea of these paradise days
& trip.
savage to cool.
the two divine modes of a survived man.
a ghoul man, or aging man.
& to keep control of his crew kidd sets them upon the quedagh merchant;
a 400 ton armenian hulk chalk full of gold, silver, satins, and muslin. ‘tis *****.
renames her: the adventure prize.

madness quenched for now.
charmed for now
& on the horizon are fragrant times. blissful distance.
but robert culliford,
with his mocha frigate. this man, this suave pirate lord, his vengeance act.
he had stolen kidd’s ship years back, &
the captain opts to cut his throat.
take the mocha.
keep calm & carry on.
to paradise.
to dream of her cool warm beaches and fruit forever, peacefully thinking.
so that night they two drink together in good health, and in the morning
most of the men defect to this other man, this other ship, culliford.
other dream,
other captain of true buccaneer effect.
act 3:

13 remain in the galley firm.
this is the house adventure.
& she is burnt alive three days later for rot and ill repair.
but she was fun,
& a *****.
a stitch of old woodwork given-in
& crackling with the eyes of her crew seen in fire.

kidd steps the pond to caribbean times with the adventure prize, toad toxins
& high on the jungled shore.
he trades that colossus, flips her for a sloop and seven little chests of gold.
little bellies.
the island-gut doubloons to bury.
dream, remember?

but the men-of-war are after him now. the privateers & hunters & devil’s dogs.
the men he once was.
men of marked death.
& he is now some pirate, some forthright bandit
settled to **** or be killed.
some sad kid.

first: buries that treasure up the coast of america.
oak island rig.
cherry rocks of the maine bank and *****-trapped pit.
the hunted.
they catch him on an inlet ****, and sail back
to london to be tried for crimes against the crown.
the high court of admirality.
1701.

they hoist and gibbet his body with worn chains above the river.
not for piracy, but for ******.
the ****** of that strange deckhand moore and his giggle.
kidd’s bones
suspended there for three or more years at the mouth of the thames,
as warning
to the perverse travails of a criminal lifestyle on the highwater pond.

Sadly, there are many intellectual postulations
that are well meaning, but fatally flawed.
One can only end up with an unholy mixture from…
combining Man’s religious views with God’s Law.

Beyond the constraints of the mental realm,
the human template of thought cannot contain God.
Yet after more than two thousand years of Church,
lessons are still not learned; so it’s not odd…

to see a skeptical world, groaning and grasping
for rays of hope and light and salvation.
God’s truth can stand on its own, not needing
to be couched within feeble human traditions.

The multitude of meaningless rhetoric
will ultimately reveal the heart of a fool;
this idea demonstrates that the Church really needs…
Christ in its heart to reign and to rule.

It’s shameful to see an inability to ‘walk in love’;
unfortunately, it seems to appear everywhere today;
stop ignoring the basic, Biblical truths, for…
Christ declared Himself to be the Life, Truth and Way.




Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Prov 10:19; Eccl 5:1-7; Prov 20:15

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2011, All rights reserved.

We find bottomless holes
In our mentalized theories
Local logical postulations
Cause-and-effect sequences
Perceived chain reactions
And medical research findings.
All those are quintessentially
Protein specs floating freely
Our words float like protein
Fondly called lewy bodies
Colorless and unsubstantial
Dreams in shreds floating
As in amniotic fluid like then.

A certain woman of less virtue
Was not fit for our society
She embraced men in dark
In dreams and art and thought.
Fuzzy scenes of yesteryears
Floated into the present
Including ego and power games.

Let me know who is this professor-
The man who brought it all up.
Our language loses meaning.
We do not agree you are you.
Actually you cease to be a son
A brother ,a person ,a human
You are a hand or a stone
Just a broken splinter for a whole .
My part becomes a whole
A thing is a word, an idea,an event
A daughter-in-law is a hand
A son a stone in the wilderness.


There is sorrow swirling in the belly
The anguish of a human existence
The pain in the bloated stomach
These forced feet take you nowhere
Men came with tails in their necks
Forcing down tiny white universes
When they go into the nether world
There is only a swirl in the belly.

Ok so the new mac software has a dictation program. I let it run during an animal physiology lecture, it was so funny I sort of turned it into poetry with a few modifications. (I took out words that it actually got right and were super science-y like T cells and also words like LRP that aren’t things and I only then changed punctuation and physical layout)

Let me know if you can find some meaning or humour in these found poems.

Steve bring it by

the new proteins bars

euros



without some for you

and your music

and also had pasta



see you

so he hears that

you first

use a euro or so

and phone

by a little while

see what is CCR



Heintz hearts tires

in this to the signal

Mickey’s

was so many years over many years.



He uses Stevens now

she is seeing proteins

and we don’t mayor

this is something for me and Olivia



So honestly it was something going on inside

and so is he is always something

when you see

here is the Winterlochen



7 mm,

one of the major cities,

you




search process

which look, it recognizes us

and what is the function ?



start by punching

in short call with the show

in law class this is a law



bread, espressos

:any

isolated



using my own postulations

to hear that fossil

fossil tires, the possibilities…

and here is a hot spot

deep blue sea

response was you

can see you later

mostly out you are

shouldn’t

parsing parties

and seems that all times

so we burgesses to see

whether these fees

so we are you

so busy

with the police officer



so this is the name

off for you Lisa

so is this needed ?

to serve on, since it’s always interesting

and if there is no proof

what is the man ?



Dennis, is the report from 17%?

raise my house and Sivula .

the left sense is the other

10% to leave myself

seven you get his sister.



Or from prefrontal cortex

you were able to listen

else and if we

so this show

on specific salsa

and effective T cell receptor activation





to decrease the settings

so sure so you transfected

as we buy one

a little simple

were able to game

is at seven

and we have two songs

this nonsense

if we were in Gennessee



tires times

who are noticed

that it is the same as control

were able to rescue the response

so by cars seem to be

a long *** tease you





Silverset

remember to Silversun

So we don’t

House and it’s just something so this shows



That Hughes

that Tersini

seems to be downstream

cheated is this

please rewrite Oterson



times we’ve started

for further brothers

specifically incontinence

ball, doesn’t you know the rest ?



of all conferences

and finish eyes gazing

into Cancun East



it’s consecutively

it doesn’t Vermarle



any if you have time

is there any messages

sorry

I was in response

to slight chance



you can also

it’s seven

and consider

you get a little more pronounced

decrease in Austin

so we see here

just curious

to be through soon

does it sound ?

and whether holiday,

actually awesome?

this medicine!

maybe you

got our road shows

to snooze constantly

is your sisters control as low ?

son



linguistically

“ hi you can see some more”

intense

bad

there’s greater

when an awesome

when you

The new day rises
Shadows yet to cast their doubts
The coolness comforts an old soul,
This odd state of being
will never catch up with my mind
I've worn it to pieces...

I turn to the gifts of this world
The trees, the birds call,
The misty falling rain to cool my senses
The steady breaths of a sleeping child
The reviving sound of quiet...

A warm rich brew , bitter-sweetened
Hugged between rugged grateful palms
delicate steam flames rise
Delineating the Rhythms of life
Lips sip the warm relief...
Failures slip away,
Transformed into stepping stones
Towards a different future...

A band of hope pulls over pearls
the shape of a lazing crescent...

Adventure awaits...

A new day has begun.

Death Knows Not a Stranger

This is the sheild Jesus gave me to protect Addy
but it will fit you if you have suffered loss


Dear Addy you will never read these words hurting one this is the war of darkness and its pall
That is a great slab it is made from turgid raw material the awful density the core of a quagmire

We are far in distance and time from Pacific Grove High School for you and Kathleen for me
Army life where we are is of no consequence death hunts its prey we were unaware then the

Deep black waves pushed against all visible light instantly we were in great depths disfigurement it
Obliterates all that was sharp and clear with warring powers it reduced our postulations to

Nonexistence we were assured they were built on bedrock Bethlehem steel stone quarried from
Surest granite the front to our fortress showcase was of impeccable marble how awed spectators

Were our security unquestioned and then the hand of death with ease dissolved our house as it were
Paper the beam the central support gave way in the night outward storm not the cause but inner

Cisterns wore thin and cracked the spirit no longer could be held and contained though it was made
Of thoughts mined from deep interests that was the stalwart reserves of economy and wisdom that

Form the primary pillars of a successful life these are hard won but are required when time limitations
Have been reached and must be forfeited so as if a secret war was fought and lost we stand in utter

Disbelief and can’t grasp the magnitude of our loss we fall against walls of splendor in these courts
Where so much was shared with the departed joy edged with laughter hung as sheer silk with

Designs of beauty that can only be from sharing at deep levels they seemed rigid because they
Were in essence the combined strength of our two souls what could move them cut them asunder

What enemy could surmount such habitations of love that a sister can have for another only the darkest
Blackened heart could invade but this intruder is hated by God himself but within the very folds of

His tragic existence there is seen and heard the fluttering of the whitest dove in her wings springtime
Of the soul is announced against the harsh back drop of a coffin fresh turned earth and marble stone

That bears her name on this wise alone immortality is birthed all that was loved is now indescribable
To human tongue our eyes were made for earthy climes only by the eyes of faith can you see

The shimmering bright new creation that left a life of limitation to be a jewel crusted in His royal
Crown by this be comforted hurting one

Infinite these halls of time
These corridors of vast expanse,
Eternity of Universe
No preamble to the dance.
No start, no pause, no finish line
No courtship in this velvet sky,
Jewelled stars in vastness pass before
This cosmic, ink black curtain high.

Einstein touched, to reconcile
Gravity in quantum thought,
Interpretation’s multiverse
In parallel dimensions sought.
Postulations spectrum bright
In rainbow, cryogenic sky,
Now humankind, in wonder gasp…
Too insignificant to cry.

M.
On the eve of the re-commissioning of the Large Hadron Collider
In man’s effort to prove the existence of parallel dimensions in the actuality of an infinite, everlasting universe.
26 March 2015

Held hostage by the didactic rituals of
Diacritic mindsets,

It is a scourge to separate man
From his brothers.

The semblance of articulate postulations
Have been conceived in the wombs of liars.

This quo of assumed status,
This contemptuous agility
With regard to bias.

We toil under the same sky,
And drink from the same river,

And the caress of the wind
Falls upon all faces.

The earth has been bestowed upon those that walk it.
Upon those who have been returned to it.
To those who cleave its riches and separate its chaff.

The misbegotten, forlorn and forgotten
Lay in un-named graves
They seek the light of their identities

In cries of historic laments
And yet the world in gasping sighs
Sits as if they are deaf.

Low the time has come that men should stop and listen
And release this burdensome chain
Of self hate and loathsome disdain.

O, how hard the answer to such a common question,
It’s in the mind of man to continue to be simple,

But far worse in the reality of this
Is how difficult it has become
Filled with dark decay
O so Bitter some.

Pusillanimous polecats
Practicing perfidy
Plan parties and
Parse probabilities proudly
Partially putting past
The paltry populace
Pornographic postulations
And potboilers
Pointing poisonous
Proclamations publically
Pitting proper people
To pathetic programs
Promising the penurious
More poverty.
Often posthumously.

Pitiful people plead
Putting need over posture
Putting parents out to pasture
Promising, but passing on
Proper placement of
Propriety and parity
Planting nothing for posterity,
Prizing prosperity
Politicizing with polemics
Post-mortems on politeness
Placing pandering
Higher in practice
By perpetrating
Practical party politics.

Clueless Again

This person that is clueless is a perfect poster
Child for the children that reject that love undoubtedly it has never been this person’s experience
To know the satisfaction and fulfillment of Godly living and then by several or one trigger you to find yourself in danger and
Are cut off from the life’s blood of his presence and you find your weakness has dropped you
Back in the mire how tragic the tremendous satisfaction and pleasure has been washed away this
Is the one place the radical Muslim element would be thrilled with we live our life before the
Sword if we walk mindlessly and indifferent to what God gave through the Son well that’s the
Reality when your spirit and faith has been compromised you have lost the power you walk
Devastated steps but in evil’s grip you continue disgusted with yourself and when you see
Even your path to heaven grows dim and goes out you are imprisoned not free to do as you
Please but at that most crucial moment when you give up in despair love that is invisible does
The most remarkable work it takes those very reins of sin that are filled with blackest guilt by
Purist divine hands lower them into the pool of cleansing what makes up the contents of this
Pool divine decrees of redemption drawn from the real places that have marked and changed the
World the cross the blood of the sacrificial lamb that was slain there the postulations of eternity
Came into time took the disfigured the marred and made them the changed dark realities into the
Greatest delights of God children of wickedness now would be truly righteous as he is, fit and
Ready for his eternal kingdom now the pool has done its work but what about the recipient of
This mysterious work joy floods the heart you know the hour was desperate the work unseen
But amazement swirls in your mind he truly “gave me beauty for ashes” the whole life is turned
Around despair vanquished hope and joy surges in your soul he becomes more real and now you
Believe his words I go away to prepare a place for you and I will return so where I am you can be
Also one last look at clueless the word was I don’t believe in God but I am spiritual I believe in fairies and
Leprechauns how rich have your breast groped on national television do acts if it weren’t for Your standing you would be considered depraved what group do you want to align with and all this time I bleed for this misguided person and the danger she faces when this
short life ends.

I recently just highlighted what and how important love is it said with title No Greater Truth
The greatest truth love has no equal by it we are fully restored it forgives the blackest guilt and
By it alone we know the great true invisible God!

you monolith the shade of my footsteps
(let’s fluctuate our emotion
so that when
you ***** in puddles
you can feel my dry comforter skin
and I
will repeat your dimples
when I’ve misplaced my humor)

you makeshift my silly condolences
(let’s pretend
that all is everything alright
and when
the wiser awk
wardly
pass their sympathy
we can shrug jumpy
joy)

you harmonize my musings
(let’s crouch
flinging insouciant
postulations
without proper schooling
with bona fide
elation)

so that I may be your noone
when you are my anyone.

this thing
it did:
hid
in that
penumbra
pooling
'round
cognitive
conjugations
of
postulatio­ns
peaking
above m(i)
unconscious

i tried to lift
its heavy
concept
but
synaptic
sinew
frayed
on its serrated
flavor
severing realities
from
actualities

I am hereby
Going to be a degenerate
All my life
I hope you won't mind

....I don't.

your immensely spread parasol:
it is your downpour consoling
these tumultuous iterations.

the mordant edge of your
susurrations:
it is your word painting my silence.

i have watched your slow fires
raze the inundation.
you have done it well
without trouble
without peril.

i have witnessed your
somnambular sun
mutilate with its precise dagger,
the stubborn bud of
contained splendor.
you have done it well
without blunder
without complication.

i have seen the conception
of your darknesses
and i took them as my own;
its sovereign over my
fragilities,
its tyranny over my
small territories,
its amplitude over the
softness of my voice.
i have done it well.
even with dire postulations.
even if i am
cast into a lulled out perdition.
it is like
there exists between us,
a tryst,
and the lions there lay,
roaring.

i have not seen it in the
surge of the next moment. it arrived like a letter from complete anonymity to the familiar gape in the doorstep.

i wish sometimes, now that i am
full with age yet none the wiser,
i were a bottle of wine sitting in hermetic space, where no breaths could go in and out of, as disconsolate light trudges the finite spaces its fingers like a taut grip to a gun, able to drain completely of its poisons.

i have you in my blood
and sometimes its immortality
coils into morbid contortions.
a rally of aches, scraping the sinews well and accurate, paring them of their pretensions, this kinship.

i have you in my mind
and sometimes when the impetus
galvanizes me into stolid incitations, my voice lifts and then vanishes into its shy desolations and without sound,
i pass through the deluge of
all this - of i being you,
and you, being me.

i have you sometimes in my eyes,
when these two brown planets
  wax in their postulations,
nebulae of emotions explode
into tiny aggregations and now,
  i am a lone star in its celestial ambulation through protruding shards of our battlements.

i have you in this warm fount
  and sometimes, like a dog
choosing its memory, i sometimes
wish to forget my station and elude its equanimities and only have in my dull mind, where all
  the bones are kept and
  guard them in the midnight where they shape themselves into
   massive morphemes digging deeper to soft skin and mangled, looking
down on me like a prey caught in a hawk's periphery and lunged at,
  where all aches are awakened
with recalcitrance, casting
  me away from my own tenancies.

i have not seen this in the
coming of the next moment -
we were firstly, laughing at
the smallness of things, sharing
light and other affectations,
until we came in the way
of our trains and closed their
  stations, looking for
a place to go now, anywhere

   but home.