Antinatalist Poetry
These are antinatalist poems and translations by Michael R. Burch. The antinatalist translations include poems and prose by Al-Ma'arri, Aristotle, Buddha, Homer, Omar Khayyam, Sappho, Seneca, the bible's King Solomon, and Sophocles. Antinatalism is the belief that human beings should not procreate. Do we have the "right" to bring other human beings into a world that was always "red in tooth and claw" and is now increasingly deadly due to global warming, nuclear weapons, drone warfare and maniacal leaders like Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Putin, Jong-un, Netanyahu and Trump? There were antinatalist notes in Homer, around 3,000 years ago ... HOMER For the gods have decreed that unfortunate mortals must suffer, while they remain sorrowless. — Homer (circa 800 BC), Iliad 24.525-526, translation by Michael R. Burch It is best not to be born or, having been born, to pass on as swiftly as possible.—attributed to Homer, translat...0
An emotional poem
To paint the giving coordinate system of feelings secretly hiding in the engravings of familiar faces. Because in the excessively superficial world out there, honesty as the only way to go has long since ceased to exist.
Insidious make-up can usually remain with them, as well as unwashable makeup. Diagonal shines in the lake of a pair of greedy, longing eyes. Who knows who you mean?
Contours of rainbow shapes cherishing in bays splashing in light. They share and call at the same time. The balance of instincts seems to expand in them. – The uncontrollable Present is getting blurred with the longing images of lived memories.
The depths of the soul are constantly stirred up by each heaving sigh, behind the rib-cage of the chest. Crocodile tears are real killer trust if their pearls are more real than the pain in the gut. Romance - just like the light born by a planet - can only be born if there are no unknowns falling back and f...
WALKING WARRIORS
Brethren of men
Spiritual Warriors to the end
Biblical words in hand
Heavens oversee in look
Standing strong and able
Step by Step footprints firm
Spoken word
Wanting our voices heard
Devil to defeat
We are Warriors that won’t retreat
We aim to win
Wholly at the end
The battle with a mission
Armor ready in precision
Holding steady
God’s will
We just fulfill
Marching on
Into Heaven’s glory
Walking Warriors, our story.
&...
POET GOSSIP
Did you hear what some poet readers are saying?
Why do Poet’s write?
What are they trying to prove?
They want to encourage readers being a Poet their own
Putting it out there full blown
Open up and explore
Words and sentences are nothing to ignore
Unlock emotions of unrest
Bring out one’s own confess
Observations
Poet’s illustrations
Truth in being sincere
Nothing to fear
Existing purpose
More than just words, but experiences
More than just sentences, but instances
Poet’s offspring Oreo
Unity based
Translations by Michael R. Burch
These are poetry translations by Michael R. Burch of poems written in Chinese, French, Greek, Italian, Latin, Russian, Ukrainian, Tamil, Turkish and other languages. TRANSLATIONS OF FRENCH POETRY Ophélie (“Ophelia”), an Excerpt by Arthur Rimbaud loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch On pitiless black waves unsinking stars abide ... while pale Ophelia, a lethargic lily, drifts by ... Here, tangled in her veils, she floats on the tide ... Far-off, in the woods, we hear the strident bugle’s cry. For a thousand years, or more, sad Ophelia, This albescent phantom, has rocked here, to and fro. For a thousand years, or more, in her gentle folly, Ophelia has rocked here when the night breezes blow. For a thousand years, or more, sad Ophelia, Has passed, an albescent phantom, down this long black river. For a thousand years, or more, in her sweet madness Ophelia has made this river shiver. TRANSLATIONS...0
Why I "Left" the Religious Right by Michael R. Burch
These heretical poems on the subjects of God, religion and Christianity explain why I “left” the Religious Right. If one screams below, what the hell is "Above"? —Michael R. Burch Religion is regarded by fools as true, by the wise as false, and by rulers as useful. — Seneca, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Bible Libel by Michael R. Burch If God is good, half the Bible is libel. I wrote this epigram to express my conclusions after reading the Bible from cover to cover at age 11 and wondering how anyone could call the biblical “god” good. A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint by Michael R. Burch Santa Claus, for Christmas, please, don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy … just … Santa, please … I’m on my knees! … please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi! What Would Santa Claus Say by Michael R. Burch What woul...0
Why I "Left" the Religious Right by Michael R. Burch
Why I “Left” the Religious Right
These heretical poems on the subjects of God, religion and Christianity explain why I “left” the Religious Right.
If one screams below,
what the hell is "Above"?
—Michael R. Burch
Religion is regarded by fools as true, by the wise as false, and by rulers as useful. — Seneca, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch
If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.
I wrote this epigram to express my conclusions after reading the Bible from cover to cover at age 11 and wondering how anyone could call the biblical “god” good.
A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint
by Michael R. Burch
Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don&rsquo...
LIGHTNING VISIT AT THE OLD SCHOOL
I'm walking down that particular confusing street again. I wish I could do it, so that I could intentionally avoid the building, which knows so much about me that it can almost see into my kidneys. My belonging memories from the miserable past still call to me; every cursed start of school in the fall makes me cry. The headmaster tried to give hair-splitting, iron-hatted conservatism to every student - literally - he retired a long time ago.
It's better that way! It belonged to other times, to other lost, plundered, evil-doing people. The kind of must-Hercules, who speaks first, and only then thinks about whether he did the right thing?! Since then, even I have been shaking continuously, like an orphaned poplar leaf left alone in the wind; the stigma wounds still hurt. Who knows where my former class teacher is or what he's doing?!
His imposing stature commanded respect, wherever he entered, as he had the backbone and bearing - as the...
Poems about Night, Darkness and Shadows
These are poems about night, poems about shadows, poems about darkness, poems about shades in the form of ghosts and spirits... Snapshot by Mehmet Akif Ersoy loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Earth’s least trace of life cannot be erased; even when you lie underground, it encompasses you. So, those of you who anticipate the shadows: how long will the darkness remember you? Shadows by Michael R. Burch Alone again as evening falls, I join gaunt shadows and we crawl up and down my room's dark walls. Up and down and up and down, against starlight—strange, mirthless clowns— we merge, emerge, submerge...then drown. We drown in shadows starker still, shadows of the somber hills, shadows of sad selves we spill, tumbling, to the ground below. There, caked in grimy, clinging snow, we flutter feebly, moaning low for days dreamed once an age ago when we weren't shadows, but were men...0
AUTUMN ALLEGRO
Now come the haunted mists of worry; furrow-Time carves trenches on their crypt-faces; in the morning wind, elves and tiny jinn watch each other's small movements. Their holy fall from existence hardly lasts. The cobwebbed wrinkles of Autumn dance around, like Midas-leaves of rye, the small tremors of deprived Life; our happy-sad feelings are now played on broken guitar strings. - Now the season is making an unknown Procrostes bed for many.
Why is it that - in many cases - even the soul strength that can be collected bitterly is only enough to fall?! The shipwrecked Robinson purpose sends its exiled victims to the ring of fate; the morning is still putting on its fog boots. Who else can unfold maps in the whispering shadows of timelessness?! Above the surface, earth-smelling roots intended for overwintering whine. All of them feel - if only - they are not brainwashed or vain wild boar fools the current of extended uncertainty!
One of the grot...