discernment
Torn rainbows, disadvantageous, torn-off remnants, slipped shadows quiver in the deserted yard of alleys. The soul of a whore is a bean or a worn-out clothespin, which teaches you to endure and survive at any cost. He beats here and there on his pitiful life fiber, and like a dying comet from Alamus, he is buttoned up to the chin in nudity at the same time, and undresses, as his playful mood takes him.
His life: steaming like a swamp kneaded into a desert. His scars torn to the bone are almost always preserved for himself by the aging Time. The stealthily approaching crypt minute becomes a lonely, barren lunar landscape; he strips himself, humiliates himself in a thousand ways.
Schizophrenic mirrors stand in the throne room of his lake-wide dreams, while lost souls yawn among themselves. The haunting midnight watches the secret revelation even more vehemently, but it can be traced back to the scratched mask of Semmi's face. "If he e...
Song Poems by Michael R. Burch
These are poems that were originally written as songs, or that could easily become songs if someone were to set the lyrics to music (hint! hint!). Ave Maria by Michael R. Burch Ave Maria, Maiden mild, listen to my earnest prayer. Listen, O, and be beguiled. Ave Maria. Ave Maria, Maiden mild, be Mother now to every child beset by earth’s thorned briars wild. Ave Maria. Ave Maria, Maiden mild, embrace us with your Love and Grace. Let us look upon your Face. Ave Maria. Ave Maria, Maiden mild, please attend to our earnest call— When will Love be All in All? Ave Maria. Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch Faithless Lover by Michael R. Burch Well I met you darlin’ on a night like this; the stars were fallin’ as I stole a kiss. And I fell in love that very night, as the moon above blessed us with its light. But the moon was false, and your heart was, too. Oh, I never dreamed you would be untrue. &#...0
Like someone caught in the act
The survival of everyday life between Life and Death consciously ripens in itself like a dark brown seed. Those who are constantly preparing for a long trip should not drag out the already expensive Time.
From wall to wall you can already hear the morbid calvary of the heart turning inward. I silently listen to the silence inside, while my face is stained red by the gnawing shame that you. many people made promises, vows, but rarely, even one, could keep his word!
I should learn to believe in hypocrite miracles again. It seemed to lurk trembling through my tears: the alchemy of my wasted memories.
I'm going to fall - I feel it - and then again, just like the aging, old rickety Sisyphus. They would already be playing in my ears on silk drums if I left them to teasing fox-demons. My dreams always sink unwaveringly into the depths, because they were never able to rise above the captivity of my unworthy, pitiful cesspools.
<...WITH SELFISH SELF-IRONY
A fickle gloom moves, half-way between the stones it stirs; even the complex sounds seem to want to flow apart, first only in your hands, later in the windings of your brain and in your thoughts. A bewitched shadow regularly disappears and then comes back into your life, and you still don't know; was it your fault when you confessed what your wounded heart is tormenting, just like a bewildered Romeo, or was he the one who betrayed your feelings, your unshakable faith in the immortal All?!
- You feel that, like someone who deliberately hid in a straitjacket snail shell, or is currently hiding, you have to survive tomorrow without everyone. "Stop!" Stay by my side even when everyone else has left you long ago!" - you ask someone you have known for a long time, to whom you would have willingly and truly shown the keys to your heart that started to rust, but you already feel that you have been betrayed, deceived by false promises that ...
IMPATIENT TO SLIP INTO REALITY
I already feel the years of pregnancy on your shoulders as tortured. Why don't you let go of your eternity pain?! Why can't you once and for all shake off the leaden, shipwrecked chains that tear your heart and soul from your shackled spiral body?!
Perhaps not only the Janus-faced Judases of the Executioner Times, but also the friendly allies who you could trust and who guaranteed that you would never be alone in the chaotic forest of Life, as your orphaned crying child, have perhaps deliberately turned away from you. Now all of them have gone abroad, and you stand on all fours searching in your own mini-world for the morality of possible causes and effects, saying: "Well? I wonder why they could prosper better and more efficiently than you?!"
- Your cynical skepticism really blackmails you and constantly overshadows you, covering the gaps of reason and reason. Your throat is already tight with babbling childish-naive crying, an...
CINDERFELLA
Evil Thug
Precinct Photo Mug
Money demise
Sophisticated surprise
Business Enterprise
Controlling the streets
Cinderfella Number One and can’t beat
Capturing women’s hearts
Sweet talking in the start
Kingpin game
Cinderfella with the name
Communities all realize
Don’t look Cinderfella in the eyes
He has his own security
Muscular Men to protect
Strength bringing the effect
Cinderfella in a class by himself
There’s no room for anybody else
Cinderfella the king
<...Like someone caught in the act
The survival of everyday life between Life and Death consciously ripens in itself like a dark brown seed. Those who are constantly preparing for a long trip should not drag out the already expensive Time.
From wall to wall you can already hear the morbid calvary of the heart turning inward. I silently listen to the silence inside, while my face is stained red by the gnawing shame that you. many people made promises, vows, but rarely, even one, could keep his word!
I should learn to believe in hypocrite miracles again. It seemed to lurk trembling through my tears: the alchemy of my wasted memories.
I'm going to fall - I feel it - and then again, just like the aging, old rickety Sisyphus. They would already be playing in my ears on silk drums if I left them to teasing fox-demons. My dreams always sink unwaveringly into the depths, because they were never able to rise above the captivity of my unworthy, pitiful cesspools.
<...AFTER BREAKS
I constantly force myself into a lively, self-deprecating debate. The false-lying, tinsel carnival of weekdays really surprised me; isolated in feverish spaces, melancholic, wandering like an occasional Yorick fool, I believed many, many things, and the most important thing: Man can still be repaired!
- Like a merry-go-round dancing in a whirlwind, it would have been nice to defiantly believe that everything is different from what the snarky, useless, Marcona Reality proclaims. I would have expected that common sense, the holy determined Will, and humanity would indeed spread its beloved bird's wings, and if a conviction or thought is strong enough, it would take off and fly away. With a colorless, crypt-white face, I played - I can admit it, although I'm very, very ashamed - the servant fool for a long time.
So old, yet familiar faces greeted me: "Listen, mate! How do you shape your life?! How much is the horse guard, and how is you...
Ono no Komachi translations by MIchael R. Burch
These are modern English translations of the ancient Japanese poems of Ono no Komachi… Submit to you, is that what you advise? The way the ripples do whenever ill winds arise? ?Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Watching wan moonlight flooding tree limbs, my heart also brims, overflowing with autumn. ?Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch If fields of autumn flowers can shed their blossoms, shameless, why can't I also frolic here ... as fearless and as blameless? ?Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I had thought to pluck the flower of forgetfulness only to find it already blossoming in his heart. ?Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sad, the end that awaits me ... to think that before autumn yields I'll be a pale mist shrouding these rice fields. ?Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Now bitterly I watch fall winds battering the ri...0
ANALYSIS OF SOME THINGS
In this crazy One World, thoughts are already shallow and ulcerated; meaningless gestures, moments, promises, low speeches, sermons are lost in the fog of permanent insignificance, just like balloons that are punctured on purpose. In a strange way, the misunderstood Gogoli soul seems to be boiling here as well, which the Hamlet-faced people were once able to wear under our skin like a worn cloak.
In the pan of weekdays, it's as if everyone is on the same page, or they're just giving each other the give-and-take handle. Why does it exist that reason, common sense, and free thought have lost their value these days with brainwashed words?! Even so, most averages are deliberately adjusted like the blind to the uninformed; holding on - if you like - but sooner or later balancing on the stunted edges of chasms, almost like a group of rope dancers who want to float. - The screeching vulture croaks or brags above us, like a kind of carnivorous carrion bird...