Breeched Poems | Examples

Roses and Razor Blades

Sometimes we're sacrificed to rooms void of light 
to the caw of the crow and the scent of the night
Silk of the mind, breeched by snakes -chains of cold
moment by moment they peck away at the soul. 

Roses and razor blades strewn on the ground
gifts have been given to help figure it all out
There are dark entities sent to devour you
and angels commissioned to buffer the blue.

Blessed light poking through blackening veins
cherish warmth like drought does a cool rain.
Take your sledgehammer soul shatter the shroud
it may take a few blows, but it'll surely come down.

Gather up the roses leave the razors behind
pay homage to angels-step gently into the light
harvest sweet honey from the silenced hive
embracing the grace of birdsong-shinning on.

why were we fighting

the dragon conquered both armies, annihilating them with fire
soldiers screamed as he incinerated both sides, their lines breeched.
shields did not help them, and swords would not pierce his armor.
soldiers were helpless, falling down as the dragon screeched in the mire.

two witnesses lived to tell the tale, ten thousand and one dead.
though on opposite sides during the war, they became fast friends.
the dragon claimed yonder castle as his own and promptly went to bed.
two new friends ran home to tell the tale, without exaggeration bends.

spirits that floated out of the war that day went to various places of course.
patience had to be with the solider spirits who arrived at heaven's gate
leaders went the same way, and realized they were both thick and Norse.
why were we fighting? They asked each other. Why the hate?

the dragon felt smug as he watched these antics in his crystal ball.
he wanted marauders, soldiers, and armies to see their demise, their fall.
we are all put on earth to learn to love each other, after all.
he demanded dragon soup and stayed with this staff until the fall.

Ayahuasca Ride

He went on an ayahuasca retreat
searching for that magical seed
to lead him up the stalk to his soul's treasury.
This white-collar fellow with money to burn
sitting before an old shaman, 
who'd so much to teach and 
he with so much to learn-

They quietly sipped the potion - 
the trip soon arrived
on a psychedelic current
virgin constellations branding the eye.

After this ayahuasca Odessey 
he told of wonderful things he'd gazed- 
secret places he'd breeched...
the mind expanding to the fringes of time
where he'd kissed a gilded silhouette of Jesus Christ. 

He asked If I'd like to board the next mind expansion ride.
thinking about it for a second, I politely declined.
I was concerned about ingesting a bad batch, 
clashing with a brass knuckled devil
mind erosion then total mental contraction.

I'm somewhat content strolling in sundial moments
reaching for the tail of miracles void of all earthly potions.

Caw

It whispers that you were once here..
it must have been grand in its day
keeping things in and others at bay-

Giving you a sense of{false} security
a boundary never to be breeched
a sense of permanence and importance
a cold-crooked line echoing the decades-

I see you flitting amidst the spaces
between the brush and battered stone
Isn't it dreadful to traipse this earth alone- 

Your fractured wall and broken home
left to the crows and forest gnomes
who weave soft emerald wreathes
to lay over the bones of memory-

Nibbling the Knight

I breeched her black lace dream
                  as she nibbled the edges off the knight
        she spun a silver prayer wheel with red lipstick sighs
                 at sunrise we shared a pot of black silence

Heaven Unmasked

I walk the streets of heaven
all alone
blinded by the alabaster
GOLD
searching for the God
of endless names.
The streets are empty
under quarantine
the clouds all closed
no angels in the fluff.
While hell is flaming still
in merriment.
I wonder - was I chosen
or just sent?
There are no children here
they took a pass
refusing to accept
salvation's splash.
All the flags are white
no rainbows here
wherever GOD went to
he isn't here.
I somehow breeched the barriers
of faith
and scalped a season ticket
to this place.
The angel's wings are tied
behind their backs
cuz they refused to wear
the foolish masks.
They say the thunder's
just GOD getting grouchy
Because he's not as powerful
As Dr FAUCI.

John G. Lawless
5/31/2020

Soiled Love

You have given me my armor; 
                             such that it has never been pierced           
you have given me my sword; 
                       such that it has been tempered                            
you have given me my shield; 
   such that it has never been breeched                            
                       but alas; I fear, 
I am not worthy of such tidings,      
for I stay unsure within the armor
the sword hangs limps from my untrained hand,
the shield, which weight I cannot long endure
my soul is weak as my spirit lay broken,
I have taken your dreams and disregarded your hopes;
forgive me for being me, 
lest you banish me for an eternity

March of the Tattoos

She's collecting tattoos at a rapid pace.
How many is to many, it's hard to say.
Sometimes I think they're just a distant sign.
From a clouded spirit, a distant cry.
Pigmented therapy for long lost lullaby?

Maybe that line of sanity is breeched. 
When the ink spills onto the hands and face.
The two things that separate man from beast.

The last things we flash to the world. 
Before the lid snaps shut on our masterpiece

Ganesh In the Deeply Dark Dawn

Ganesh in the Deeply Dark (Dawn)

I sit, sullen
in this hot tub,
grown warm.
Here, I sit,
grown cold,
grown old.

The stars seem dim,
though neatly
arranged.

The dead leaves,
having leached their
green, beseeched their
sun-god, having breeched
their tip-top, up top, paraSol-top,
having reached the high holy Pale Blue,
having pleached in greens, having bleached 
those same greens, having (perhaps mayhaps perhaps) 
over-
                                                                 reached,

fall silently around me.
Joining my tears in
filling this bath.

The light, warily
illumines the manuscript
sky.
Confronting my dark.

I can’t read these stars.
I can’t know my Way,
my Fate.

They say that if an elephant
could speak, we’d still
not understand her.
Wittgenstein’s lion.

The elephant isn’t. 
The elephant is...
mine.

Yet

Amidst the rushed ripples of life.
Something brushed darkness deep into his eyes.
Weeping violets, gentle blacks, wondrous blues.
A couple of almost stars danced like midnight dew.

yet...

Petals of light breeched the heavy pound of night.
Sparred with the sable sirens of doubt and death.
Struck them brutal- honest in their icy stares.
The rouge of battle lay heavy upon the morning air.

Departure Time

We talk with disdain of rats that leave
a sinking ship. In truth do vermin,
ingloriously called, feel they have
to leave their homes, secret places wherein
they secured their children, in cowardice?
Rather, deep within the ship they are close
to things that ensure strength, good service
to the ship and know that they've failed. Are those
that left before Hitler, with power reached, 
rats or prophets, mine canaries, whose acute
senses knew democratic bulwarks were breeched,
when an informed public is held in low repute,
a person's value is ignored or for sale,
police can open any door, don't set sail!

Ice King

Sanctuary breeched
Stole cube of ice you hold dear
Grasping your power

Season weakens you
Seething and stabbing my palm
Fighting against clutch

Ceded power now
Few months away, cold revenge 
encasing my world


*** These days we hold Ice dear, then winter comes and it's despised.

Adam Hapworth

The Kingfisher

With acrobatic locomotion 
hovering high above the ocean
the kingfisher hangs ready in the sky
to pounce upon his potential prey
waiting just below the waves
by releasing all his thrust 
into a dive. 

Splashing through the salty blue
foamy surface matter
catching what he came to find
as schools of moonfish scatter 
in all directions near and far 
down in their watery grave 
the kingfisher rises out of this world 
for which he was perfectly made...

A mesmerizing, tantalizing 
example of nature's best
colorful flyer moving up higher
near barely a moment of rest.
Providing we humans with so little acumen 
for noticing much at all
including the sounds they make all around
before their final free-fall.

Down 

once again where a fish is no friend
and waves are made to be breeched
from blue velvet skies
the kingfisher flies
where no other bird or human can 


   		                             reach.

In Her Brevity

her kisses were glacial...honest
she devoured every star on which she rode
at times, amber spirits would peal the veneer
expose the pulp of her mind...scarred...
one night the shine sprinted from her grasp,
living dullened that wild horse stride...
she curled up in my heart palm, 
wilted and worn-like a scorched flower
slashed by the lightning streaks of life...
told me she was frightened of it all
at times she wished to be weak,( to sow strength?)
to be legless, aimless( to polish the stride of her wandering being?)

at the end she devolved 
her heart became a cloud high paper wall, 
on which everyone scribbled their hate... 
but nobody breeched her heart like i did
nobody
that is our legacy...screw them all...
we were
a smear of black and red petals in the morning frost...
a frost ,that for now kisses all my dreams

she was strength- weakness
a rainbow of disease
buckled
but
complete...in this brevity called her life.

R.I.P
K.P

390 and Say Goodbye

I have forgotten the willow weeping in the field
How it brushed closely to the Earth
As the sunshine would glimmer through
Highlighting the wild flowers in bloom
Home to the sparrow and once a year
The turtle dove would tour through its branches.
~
I remember the golden sunset
It would paint the sky with purple, reds and oranges
Majestic upon the encroaching night
In breathless awe I would watch
As the clouds explode like rainbows
And the calm of the moment breeched serenity.
~
   I can picture two hands
The gentle embrace of two lovers
Walking the sandy shores near the ocean
And the sun would caress the waves
With shimmering dance
As the winds would part, circling
Embracing the beauty of love.
~
   And I can remember tears
Suffering, how it can encompass us
Burdening even the most willful soul
Stripping away beauty and desire
Leaving only the tear stained pillow
And the decision to say goodbye.
~
   it is to not, the passing
Every day the blind eye escapes to see
The beauty within the life
The nature within the beauty
And when death takes trespass upon us
We take back the glimpses forgotten
And say goodbye.
~
By: Darren J McMurray
    March 22, 2012

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