COMPT

 
Time, this old snow-hooked old man, is still too full of himself; I don't see how I could fit into the story. My old pessimism and my bad mood do not want to go away.

The so-called more beautiful reality shows its back, whether suspicious-looking, pock-marked strangers or even greedy, beaten monsters constantly force me to stand among them and loudly chant brainwashed, propaganda slogans about the greater life opportunities that have become only for the privileged.

During the happy-sad hour of self-pity, they eat bigger and bigger bites of your soul. Luscious, double-minded mirrors constantly make fun of the heart that falls easily in love, just like a beggar forever picking up crumbs for a whole life, the dragged soul.

It seems to be easier to come back halfway from the darkness outside than from the inner darkness that wants to consume us. The frozen starlight does not let up from the eye socket view of the dead. And why is i...

Erotic Poems by Michael R. Burch

Gleyre Le Coucher de Sappho by Marc-Charles-Gabriel Gleyre

These are the best erotic poems and best erotic poetry translations of Michael R. Burch. Most of these poems are risqué rather than graphic. Erotic poems come in all shapes, sizes and forms: haiku, tanka, epigrams, couplets, limericks, sonnets, rondels, roundels, villanelles, free verse, etc. There is also a collection of humorous erotic poems at the bottom of this page.


Preposterous Eros
by Michael R. Burch

“Preposterous Eros” – Patricia Falanga

Preposterous Eros shot me in
the buttocks, with a Devilish ...




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BECAUSE NOTHING IS RIGHT

Life is often one continuous expanse; with few happy-sad melodies, and even less joy. We make mistakes in everything, or we just miss the ramp imposed on us; we drive along the path of unattainable dreams of luxury, which - nice as it is - will never come to anything, then we cheat on the prostitute's muse. Because there's nothing here anymore, whoever is "honest and humane" and doesn't steal other people's property, his undying romance burns in his heart like dirt, he would try to wriggle out of the captivity of the abyss-heaps, but his soul is still infected.

It will pay the price with interest, who only wants honest-true friendship alliances, where it doesn't matter who beats whom?! The one who devotes his whole life to going to his miserable job smelling of starvation wages and humbly putting up with all the rubbish of his sociopathic director boss all day long, like a whining automatic robot, can't do better. you can ...

HUMAN PORTION

Even now, it may seem that the simple, mortal Man is just staring at the ornate appearance-Universe, and can imagine himself as a Lord where he is actually a Lilliputian resident. He doesn't understand that he can only be a simple, but all the more valuable speck of dust in the chain of connections, and he brags about the infinity that originally imposed his fate as a shipwreck as a Páka yarn.

He believes that his blind luck will suddenly fall on his head one day, and he flirts and flirts easily, if he is addicted to adrenaline. It's tiny - it's true - but it's still Life, and he wouldn't trade it for anyone. His delusional dream, like his repentant past, is shallow. Even now, he thinks: he deserves more, more noble, yet he avoids the holy average ratio. He immoderately consumes the wretched spirits, how he has to pass in the suspicious eyes of others, because the assured fatality is still a weak premise-enigma.

As a pi...

Love Poems by Michael R. Burch

These are love poems by Michael R. Burch: original poems and translations about love, romance, passion, desire, sex, dating and marriage. On an amusing note, my steamy Baudelaire translations have become popular with the pros ? porn stars and escort services!

Preposterous Eros
by Michael R. Burch

“Preposterous Eros” – Patricia Falanga

Preposterous Eros shot me in
the buttocks, with a Devilish grin,
spent all my money in a rush
then left my heart effete pink mush. 

Eros was the Greek god of erotic desire, equivalent to the Roman love god Cupid. We get our term "erotic" from Eros. 

Sappho, fragment 42
translation by Michael R. Burch

Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains
uprooting oaks.

Sappho, fragment 155
translation by Michael R. Burch

A short revealing frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!





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Poems about Adam, Eve, Lucifer/Satan, the Garden of Eden and the Fall, by Michael R. Burch

These are poems about Adam and Eve, Lucifer/Satan, the Garden of Eden, Cain and Abel, the forbidden fruit, "original sin," the Fall and its bitter aftermath...



Eden
by Michael R. Burch

Then earth was heaven too, a perfect garden.
Apples burgeoned and shone—unplucked on sagging boughs.
What, then, would the children eat? 
Fruit indecently sweet, 
redolent as incense, with a tempting aroma...



Outcasts
by Michael R. Burch

There was a rose, a prescient shade of crimson, 
the very color of blood, 
that bloomed in that garden.

The most dazzling of all the Earth's flowers, 
men have forgotten it now, 
with their fanciful tales of apples and serpents.

Beasts with lips called the goreflower "Love."

The scribes have the story all wrong: four were there, 
four horrid dark creatures—chattering, bickering.

Aduhm placed one red petal in Ehve's matted hair; 

he was lost...




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Poems about Adam, Eve, Lucifer, Eden and the Fall by Michael R. Burch

These are poems about Adam, Eve, Lucifer/Satan, The Garden of Eden and the Fall, written by Michael R. Burch.



Eden
by Michael R. Burch

Then earth was heaven too, a perfect garden.
Apples burgeoned and shone?unplucked on sagging boughs.
What, then, would the children eat?
Fruit indecently sweet,
redolent as incense, with a tempting aroma...



Outcasts
by Michael R. Burch

There was a rose, a prescient shade of crimson,
the very color of blood,
that bloomed in that garden.

The most dazzling of all the Earth's flowers,
men have forgotten it now,
with their fanciful tales of apples and serpents.

Beasts with lips called the goreflower "Love."

The scribes have the story all wrong: four were there,
four horrid dark creatures?chattering, bickering.

Aduhm ...

Heretical Poems by Michael R. Burch

These are heretical poems written by Michael R. Burch, some in his teens, and the first as a pre-teen...

Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 11-13

If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.

I came up with this epigram to express my conclusions after reading the Bible from cover to cover, ten chapters per day, at age eleven. 



Saving Graces
for the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter
(wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter).



Multiplication, Tabled
for the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”



Willy Nilly
for the Demiurge, aka Yahweh/Jehovah
by Michael R. Burch

Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?

Isn&r...




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GLASS-SOUNDED GULL

A heart-wrenching depth gathers within me! As a youth, I became an Aggastyan child among you! I received the Everything as a gift at some point, the guilty fears of boundless, tormented wounds still race in my soul! The throbbing cups of my heart conceived in crimson are often cut by invisible knives; jealous sadness can still be seen in the furrows of my sunken chubby face - that is why I stop in front of the walls of prejudice on purpose!

If there are still my fellow Fates, they will fight for me! Inquisitive eyes with open, eloquent attention search and follow my eccentricities like a hesitant nutcase: my Seed-Loneliness embraces me! They are like spokes, honest, True-words: a fog of questions hovers over my head uncertainly! I often just float weightlessly in unsteady space, stretched out in uncertainty...

Windy-restless-self-devouring with a punctured figure, he prepared for comedy in his smile and experienced soul-shaping dramas! I thought ...

Poems for Poets by Michael R. Burch

Radiance
by Michael R. Burch

for Dylan Thomas

The poet delves earth’s detritus?hard toil?
for raw-edged nouns, barbed verbs, vowels’ lush bouquet;
each syllable his pen excretes?dense soil,
dark images impacted, rooted clay.

The poet sees the sea but feels its meaning?
the teeming brine, the mirrored oval flame
that leashes and excites its turgid surface...
then squanders years imagining love’s the same.

Belatedly he turns to what lies broken?
the scarred and furrowed plot he fiercely sifts,
among death’s sicksweet dungs and composts seeking
one element that scorches and uplifts.

The original title of this poem, which I still like, was “Elemental.” I have also considered “Elemental Radiance” from time to time. I think both “elemental” and “radiant” apply to Dylan Thomas’s best poems. Keywords/Tags: Dylan Thomas, poet, poetry, words, light, radiance, il...




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