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    The Best Poems of Michael R. Burch (HM-6)

    In My House
    by Michael R. Burch
    
    I was once the only caucasian in the software company I founded and managed. I had two fine young black programmers working for me, and they both had keys to my house. This poem looks back to the dark days of slavery and the Civil War it produced.
    
    When you were in my house
    you were not free—
    in chains bound.
    
    Manifest Destiny?
    
    I was wrong;
    my plantation burned to the ground.
    I was wrong.
    
    This is my song,
    this is my plea:
    I was wrong.
    
    When you are in my house,
    now, I am not free.
    
    I feel the song
    hurling itself back at me.
    
    We were wrong.
    This is my history.
    
    I feel my tongue
    stilting accordingly.
    
    We were wrong;
    brother, forgive me.
    
    Published by Black Medina
    
    
    
    I, too, have a dream ...
    by the Child Poets of Gaza (a pseudonym of Michael R. Burch)
    
    I, too, have a dream ...
    that one day Jews and Christians
    will see me as I am:
    a small child, lonely and afraid,
    staring down the barrels of their ...

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    Social depths


     
    Age can't deceive me. Behind the vain guise of honesty, peeing, frothing-mouthed Janus and their botox goddesses would dictate the trend-smelling baton, but why, when the big sunken average beggar-poor scum?!

    Deed, action, human word can be pushed aside or just forgotten. Nowadays, everyone only vegetates selfishly. On the surface there is a painful, throbbing, mushy mess.

    Dirt-trash reigning on the same global label. Layered ringworm. And if some people could still dare to believe that, there can no longer be the deepest deep compliments, romance, and instead of polite speech, they make each other beautiful in chubby and belching orgies.

    It's as if in a sea of ??oily, lime-puddles you have to re-discover once-familiar human faces. The easy-to-come, neglected careers of presenters and yews are completely useless on the channels of fake and fake tabloid media. The age of stumbles and deliberate half-heartedness is long over,...

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    BUG OUT

    Bug spray

    When you had enough

    Raid tough

    Say goodbye to bugs

    Away with pest thugs

    Bugs will no longer try

    Bye Bye

    Show them find some other place to invade

    Your house is not their shade

    Raid strong

    The bugs will no longer belong

    Raid spray and be done

    Bugs will no longer be among

     

     

     

     

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    LYRICAL DISTANCE

     

    Because you know, maybe you understand: the changing contrasts of permanence slowly grind the windings of your overzealous brain, your everyday existence, and cause and effect is no longer what it was when common sense cleaned it up and explained the chains of connections that were often swept under the rug.

    In the small Ugar No Man's Land, which is frozen into the wasteland, at first only digital occupation takes place, and later there is a desire for the total possession of information. You know this, you can eat it. What you don't understand even now is how and why it is possible that every day of your whining, cursed day is a near-bankruptcy disaster, a miserable torture, because the big sharks always eat the smaller tadpoles, and I never agree on hand-holding compromises.

    Even the wild romance of the pines is regularly overshadowed by another luxury hotel with a jacuzzi and a pool, which some straw man king proudly built into a natur...

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    WONDER WOMAN HARRIS DOMINANCE

    Kamala Harris controlled the stage

    You could see her opponent’s rage
    Vice President Harris words were stuff like bullet proof bracelets
    She was Wonder Woman being Kamala Harris wonder

    While her Villain could only ponder

    Wonder Woman Harris full of words and answers

    The Villain didn’t have a chance

    Yet he tried to prance

    Wonder Woman Harris was strong

    Her Villain couldn’t even get the words along

    There was too many lies after lies

    No surprise

    The villain with the cannibal mind

    Sublime

    Answers to questions from the Villain didn’t make sense

    Villain loss in his own past tense

    <...

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    AN EPISTLE TO AN ACQUAINTANCE

     

    My friend! I know it's a shame to ask, but now I'm going to interrogate you! Confess to me, but only the Truth! What is the significance of the sentence of the Executioner-Times for mortality, in which the flower pot debris of memories, stories, and lives are scattered like grains of sand? What are secret places where the wave-crested sea preserved the footprints of old lovers?!

    What does distance itself matter anyway in a digitally projected age, where information is the only worthwhile fact?! - Of course you don't believe it yourself, but you can see that nameless centuries separate you from Deeds and Wills, as well as from dubious bargaining positions, which can in turn dictate the Páka thread of the confusing and complex History. - You listen to the melody of your heart with a quiet murmur and there are tougher, fateful days when you can barely understand yourself; why did the unknown-uncertain Fate assign you petty impossibilities?<...

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    GRANDMA’S LEVERAGE

    Gone on to glory

    Left a story

    Grandson, Rain only lasts a moment

    Sunshine brings the joy of what is to come

    You are never alone

    As you learn, life will be known

    There will be days of sadness and despair

    Your Heavenly Father is always near

    When you kneel and pray things begin to change

    It becomes a rearrange

    Grandma’s experiences what gave wisdom

    I am now up in the Heavenly Kingdom

    You will fall, but always get up

    Don’t complain

    Negative things will remain

    Always put Christ first

    Never in reverse

    Storms will come ...

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    Blown away regrets


     
    As the leaves drift in on themselves in the abandoned forest, instead of the eternal, light, wind-driven celebratory dance of waves, they roll forward, collected echo-noises in ourselves. They already suffocate themselves with exhaust fumes, teenage turds, and obscene-grotesque profanity.

    Broken careers and longing dreams cry their lack-death for a beat after the heavy millions. And whoever wants to prosper now by any means will be a single-minded tyrant, like an army of accomplices in the ranks of traitors.

    Death and passing away - in any case - always impeccably clothe its mortals striving for old age. – And while some people do not notice the transition between the part and the whole between tiny gears at all; they drift until the Adys tree leaves can support themselves.

    Between the swaying branches of the spawned, honey-colored lights, it bends hesitantly like a shadow, driven by a patch of anxiety in our own rattling, sh...

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    AIR HEAVEN

    Welcome Aboard

    All through the Lord

    Have your Praise

    The Blessing Award

    Heaven’s accord

    Flying through the atmosphere

    This is Captain Angel Gabriel

    You are on Heaven’s Flight 707

    Nonstop all the way

    No Turbulence

    Smooth Spirit

    Heavenly Merit

    Peace and Comfort aboard

    Assured atmosphere

    Soon will arrive at Holy Spirit Airport

    Soulful among

    The Chosen One’s

     

     

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    NONSTOP MOUTH

    Big Mouth

    Beyond Control

    Lips Alpha Talk

    No discussion

    Talking straight out

    A beginning with no end

    Hour by hour

    Minute by Minute

    No pause

    Anger sets in

    Then censor begins

    Express through the teeth and gums

    When will this mouth stop?

    No let up

    A Duracell Mouth

    Going and still going

     

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