ESSENCE OF POETRY
Surge and Compose
Emotional Aspect
Turning Fiction into Fact
Words effect
Journey through imagination
Mind Theory
Hidden Conscious Mystery
Art and Creation
Sentences Illustration
Sensation Connection
Alpha by Alpha
Words lived every after
...
AS SOMEONE GETTING READY TO LEAVE...
Many times I no longer look into the screaming depths of curved mirrors, because my inner self is upset; I am sad and totally surprised at the same time. Sanda, absurdity, nonsense were packed into Korba, and the Gods left me completely to myself. I know that I don't have any rights at all - if I had them and could have any at all - at the moment. It was as if the Iron Curtain had come down again and that the situation in the West had not changed.
Maybe I can't go out anymore, and I can't leave the wasteland, where things are not allowed to change - but the paradise state of arrogant, peasant jerks, brainwashed idiots to the core is the new trans-chic state. My identity is still European. Wolf-eyed with my single-minded self-righteousness with the overtures of my middle age and where to next? with your questions. I know, I'm not sure I can get close to the safe surface anymore.
I travel on escalators between the upper world and th...
Not new either
Into the eyes of reverse mirrors - alas, but I have looked many times. I measured my wasteful, clumsy misfortune, my forgetfulness among crystal shards. A friend and an acquaintance - too little - why did he leave a long time ago?!
Now I wander alone on the ruins of landless, landless days. Among my fears, there are still many solidified, holy superstitions - I have nowhere and nowhere to escape from my present.
My past has long since been cursed, while my future is always uncertain. How many coquettish, propaganda-mouthed, duplicitous messengers should be listened to out of necessity, in order to finally realize that here on this earth, everything is standing in the way of the so-called permanent changes.
You should learn not to live - but to tolerate and hope, because there can be no new things here, only bogus, brainwashed tinsel. I won't share pearls or pearls anymore. I hide the truth-telling loyalty-consolation of tears i...
The Best Poems of Michael R. Burch (HM-4)
Lucifer, to the Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch
Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.
Bring back a pretty
flower—
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.
There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful, Warosu (Japan), Pela Poesia (Portugal), Borderless Journal (Singapore), ArtVilla, Poetry Life & Times, Let Justice Roll and Stu...
LIFE PAGES
A world that wouldn’t understand
Perhaps wouldn’t care
Line by Line
More than just words
Memories from yester far
Journeys and Struggles
Storms of Damnation
Hour glass of time
Personal Memoir
Not in a book, but one’s inner spirit
Beginning to extension
Closed Doors that opened
Death wanted to snitch
Life came through with a catch
A Higher Calling
Shown the way
Living today
Life’s Chapters
Endless pages
Emotions in rages
Interseed Approaches...
CHANGING ATTITUDE
Why is it that silence gave birth to gaping silence and then petrified early?! The human soul gets lost in this confusing, dirty-underwhelming maelstrom called the World. Because maybe no one can be different from anyone else anymore, and because everyday survival is one in a billion, to which later falsified legends cling like leeches. We will pack our hermetically sealed memories and feelings into well-sealed containers, since we never want to allow anyone to hurt us again; we are often too ashamed on behalf of others.
At an early age, teenagers first become victims, then addicts, later young parents, and while they think about how and how they should take care of a little one, they themselves are just people dressed in children's skin. - Even so, the money-grocer, sanda Kor, only offers a solution in isolation. There are already so many people out there trying to position themselves in Janusian roles with cheap, influence-seeking tools, and how insi...
HALLELUJAH TRAIN
Spiritual Welcome
The Step Aboard
Thanking the Lord
Thought of Heaven
The Promise
Years through God’s will
His Gospel Mission Fulfilled
Honor, Glory and Uplift
Heavens enter a Gift
Blessed it Spiritual Warriors
Your Reserved Seat
Devil in total defeat
Chosen ones
Enter my Saints
Sanctuary of Praise
Days and Nights in Heaven evermore
Faith proved sure
Come and Dwell
Enriched with all the ceremonial goodness
This is your story
All found in G...
Things between things
I have known for a long time what a waste it is to lose myself. Wandering aimlessly shipwrecked under the skies of this cruel Hyena world. Vomit the peaceful memories secretly expected, romantic kisses.
Meanwhile, Time has already flown by. You can also see a scarecrow standing in a field of withered ears of corn, languishing in statelessness, on a serenade guarded by soldiers. Which can no longer interrogate or question the greedily crowing feathered thief princes.
I know what it can mean to dream of being underground. Death awaits me with a flickering knife tip on the end of a crippled, rusty dagger, or medicated suicide on a day when I'm dying to the core.
And yet to consciously step out of a deliberately betraying existence that humiliates even oneself. To leave once and for all the hangman-troubled history of which one could no longer be a part. - Finally, in the balmy evening on the beach, feeding on each other's greedy ey...
TOURIST RULES
But it would be nice to cling to thin, almost transparent words again; even when we feel the Spirit as some strange unknown there is still something missing. It would still be good to scrape together what is left of the sure and eternal with loyalty and faithfully insisting on the radiance of the personality. While "some" see homeless people with the smell of dirty alleys, elderly vagrants in torn, sloppy rags, the demographic breakdown of poorer people - it would be nice if we could rediscover some secret Humanity in them.
Mouths can carry wounds - no doubt - just like the inner shelter-shell, where everyone consciously retreats sooner or later. - It is as if we are moving more and more comfortably in the deliberately crowded alleys of memories, because we ourselves secretly feel who those people are in their flesh and blood presence, and we can still count on them not only according to promises that are made. - The bustling City of Sehonna, too...
UNFINISHED NUMBER REQUEST
We were deceived first only by the circular, spiral series of common memories, and then by the intensified, radical rianas; perhaps we couldn't even think about the ancient immortal metamorphoses of the fulfilled Everything, since we hadn't been a couple for a long time. Like when a shy, half-witted elephant-bodied bicep limps into a sophisticated china shop - I was stared at by his malevolent, manipulative girlfriends.
The chubby, naïve boyish penguin face under the pearly, fringed temples has endured enough shipwrecks, smaller or larger hells, endured, or just lived through it. In the feather-light floating of the sweaty ducks, there was an involuntary and consciously hidden alliance of defiance, which - at the time - at best only the two of us could understand. The almost delicate, artistic little fingers, which later flirtatiously licked the lips, groped more and more eloquently towards the gnarled, Odysseus-like depths of the Soul, as if ...