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 ...0
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,...
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...
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
<...
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?<...
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 ...
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...
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
...
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
...