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Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Sweet beautiful untruths
To ease bitter pills
Are still lies
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
A griffon fights leviathan upon my left forearm
As phoenix rises underneath, regal rebirth from the war

Clouds adorn my bicep
Created as a place to play
For curious birds drawn out of bones;
Symbols of life's pain

A charm is etched into my chest
To ward away the wickedness,
That surrounds me on my path

And cheaply done tribal
on my right shoulder,
A remnant to teenage aftermath

A mural of light and dark is juxtaposed
From left to right upon my back
Serves me as a guiding light
And reminds me of my proper track

Art is created of many forms
And each of their beauties is akin
I am living cautionary tale
And a gorgeous canvas made of skin
Every scar tells a story, every tattoo is a piece, and we are all artwork.  Even if tattoos aren't your style, keep creating art of all kinds.  And take a minute to think about what each person's art means to them.  Always support your brethren artists.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Play me a sad song?
But what of this joyous day
Summer unfurls before us
And warm sunshine tans my skin

Sure we toil in trenches
Dug as defensive lines
Against a swarm
So complete in its hostility

But brothers, hear the sounds of nature
Echoing around us
Wrapping us in soft cacoons
Of sweet distraction

So do not sing a sad song
Don't dampen my ephemeral mood
Let me have this moment of reprieve
As I dig trenches
On a future battlefield
This poem was written in Afghanistan in 2010.  It is the only positive piece I have written from the portion of my life.  And those of you who've read my other poems about war probably know that very well.  It was just a strange day as summer began and we were in our short sleeve shirts building defensive barriers, surrounded by towering mountains.  It was such a beautiful sight.  It made me think about working in the yard with my dad and the feeling of bonding and accomplishment at a day's toil.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
The words are thick on my tongue
And fall forward like like drunken intentions
Piling at our feet like useless sand
Spilled from the hourglass of our lives
And spreading like dust around the room
Never reaching your ears
To be translated effectively
Into the message I wanted you to hear
I think you would have changed your mind
And understood the path I'd walked
But I am bound by the limits of words
Ethereal and insubstantial
And my human mastery of language
Is lacking
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
You feast
and grow stronger
as I fade
slowly away
This is actually one of my new poems written in the last week.  I'm trying my hand at these 10-word poems and trying to express the sadness I recently went through
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Standing by cliffside bluffs, blue lake below
I dream of the cool water on my skin
I dream of falling forward in slow motion
The sweet surreal beauty of the fall
Into chilling water, extinguishing my fever
I dream of wet mud between my toes
I dream of you sitting at the shoreline
An inviting smile playing across your lips
But each time I fall in my dreams
I am met not by smiles, or mud, or water
Each time, the wind takes me away
And breaks my desire with hard reality
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Your beastly desires were always hidden beneath
A calm and cool exterior, hiding truth
You waited and hunted me, tracked me
And watched me as your intentions stayed aloof,
Preparing to at last spring your vicious trap
Cleverly laid in the deep woods of passion
You are a beast, who stalks this once lush forest
And I am your prey, lying dead in trees now ashen
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