Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
2.8k · Feb 2020
Wendigo
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
1.8k · Feb 2020
Generosity
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Generosity is not in giving what you have aplenty
But in sharing what you lack
Altruism is in balancing the scales of suffering
Even if you have only half a sandwich
Then two people
Are only half hungry
1.1k · Mar 2020
Bantam Weight Ballerina
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Cassie Lane Gray, ever so slight of frame
Hit harder than a train, playing her martial games
Cassie ran eight miles a day, and she never strayed
Her routine was tough as iron, her boxing gloves were frayed

Her momma put her in ballet, but later on, she disobeyed
Strapping wraps to wrists, uppercut finisher each day
And when she said she wanted to box, her momma turned away
But she was gonna fight, with no one in her way

Cassie Lane Gray grew up poor in San Jose
Never had much to say, just wanted in the fray
Her ballet, in a way, made her opponents pay
As she moved with dancer's sway, they later would convey

Cassie's family prayed that she would portray
The sweet and simpering visage of a classy dame
But it wasn't in the cards, for Cassie Lane Gray
The "Bantam Weight Ballerina"
A strong young fighting woman
Was in the ring to stay
This poem was inspired by a filthy ragtag tomboy friend that I spent a lot of my youth with.  She was tough as nails and loved to box.  Her parents had tried to put her on the pageant circuit every year, and every year they would find her in a ripped and muddy dress, fighting with the boys.  She was such a wonderful person and despite several state boxing championships, her parents never loved or appreciated her work and accomplishments.  Follow your dreams and don't let anyone try fit you into their mold.
672 · Mar 2021
The Artful Truth
Michael Stefan Mar 2021
We do not make art,
Art makes us

Every word, every note, every brush-stroke

And every joy,
Every wonder,
Every tear,
And every pain,

Is part of us
540 · Feb 2020
No Sad Song
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.
513 · Feb 2020
Raw Meat
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
I sat beneath the willow tree, forlorn at life's love lost
A hooded man came up to me, with smile like winter's frost
Why child do you cry so much, he began his inquisition
His demeanor was unsettling and gave me deep suspicion

Emily, oh Emily, has left me high and dry
I expounded sadly, as tears formed in my eye
He laid a skeletal hand upon my sobbing shoulder
He looked at me with awful glee, and I lost my composure

What horrid wicked cruel thing do you have to say?
Oh, poor dear boy, a piece of advice to help you through today
You think of love,
You think it's sweet,
A wondrous thing,
Makes you complete,
You have romance,
But dear boy I entreat,
Consider this...
You dear sweet boy...
Earthly insect child...
You are all,
Raw meat
Not much to say about this one, other than existentialism bites.
505 · Feb 2020
The Descent
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Righteousness of action
   Assimilation despite protest
      Gesticulating invalid points
         Excommunication for beliefs
                              &
Hypercorrection to fit in
   Accountableness and your actions
      Thermodynamic reaction
         Excuse me for a moment

Please forgive my descent in anger
This poem was more of an art project than anything.  I took two words that I feel when I am truly angry at someone.  Then I took the time to find 8 words that resonate how I feel during those moments of absolute anger, forming 8 small phrases that express my feelings.
Michael Stefan Jan 2021
She plunged it in, alright
A tight twist to a tiny hand,
With no solemn apology...
Such harsh and hard steel-
Such hard and harsh cuts-
To such soft flesh,
Now marred by red ruts

She never whimpered,
She never groaned,
She never smiled,
She never moaned.
She stood in one place,
As she let the blade slide,
And felt not a thing
As the knife slid inside

She remained like a statue-
So still like the steel,
Examining the accurate
Lines she had made.
And in one brief moment
She stole a glance from her place
To check the oxygen mask
Secured to my face
First, sorry if the beginning triggered anyone.  I wanted this to be a little misleading.  This is the first installment of the experiences I had exiting the military.  I had some severe spinal surgeries, ultimately leading to my medical discharge.  Please read the poems to follow this one.
459 · Feb 2021
Indissoluble
Michael Stefan Feb 2021
Your strength
Is indissoluble
And absolute
Like the weather

It may change
And fade away
But it will
Always return

Its shape
Is indeterminable
Its weight
Is unmeasurable
Its power
Is invaluable
Its presence
Is indissoluble
Here's my try at BLT's word challenge.  I thought about doing a complex poem about chemistry...  but I figured we could all be reminded or our own strength from time to time.  Cheers, BLT!
436 · Feb 2020
Cassius Bartholomew
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Cassius Bartholomew, a dapper gentleman
Oh, two-toned fuzzy suit, and smile so genuine
Regarding his tough muscles, a good workout regimen
Gracious with affection, his love is never tentative
I greatly love that Cash, so I write these sentences

Cassius is a cuddle monster who snuggles day or night
Oh, that Cashboy is such a manly man despite his tiny height
Ruggedly running through rolling hills, superlative delight
Gusto! Cash's cry of joy when his name you cite
I hope you understand by now, Cash's character's airtight

Cassius is a Corgi, a big-eared loaf of bread from end to end
Cashboy is the best of dogs
He's truly man's best friend
So yeah, I have owned Corgis for a long time.  Cash is my male Corgi and he is constantly filled with pleasure being around people, roughhousing with his mate Lucy, and will park himself directly on your lap for hours trying to soak up some love.  For being such a large part of my life, he deserved a poem.  I also used the lines as an acrostic poem to spell out C-O-R-G-I twice.
419 · Jan 2021
Enter Perspectivism
Michael Stefan Jan 2021
Trouillot once said,
"We all serve as actors and narrators
That compose the truth of history"

Your 'now' is tomorrow's history,
Your decisions will echo and ripple,
Will you act a courageous scene?
And speak truth,
To cut through pools of lies?

Never let anyone silence you,
And that includes yourself
Just a belief I have and a chance to mention a tremendous historian.  Grab history by it's (insert appropriate body part here) and make your life count.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
I stand in line with everybody else
She keeps tap tap tapping on cell phone screens
He keeps crying, bored of shopping cart seats
They won't stop coughing, hack hack hack
I feel the jungle start to beat in me
tap tap tap hack hack hack
Louder and louder the wilderness beckons
Run free in me, roar to the sky
tick     tick    tick   tick  tick ticktick
My heart beats so quickly
Her nails scrape across her makeup caked skin
scratch scratch tap tap hack scratch tap
I have thunder inside of me it wants out
I streak across clouded skies filled with lightning
Sweat slicks my palms, my chest rumbles
The jungle recedes
The wilderness quiets
The sky grows dark
And I stand there waiting in line
tap hack scratch
tick tick  tick   tick    tick     tick
407 · Feb 2020
surreal
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
rea chfor m eand ** pei mho me
i havenev erwa ntedy oum ore
y ou rreflec tioninm y mirr or
s o surreal ire member you rt ouch
382 · Feb 2021
If Only I Knew You Then
Michael Stefan Feb 2021
If only I knew you then,
Maybe I wouldn't have made so many mistakes,
Maybe I'd make even more,
Maybe I'd never have left,
If only it was you, at my door

Maybe I would have been much greater,
Maybe I'd have been worse off,
Maybe I'd have known true love,
Or maybe I'd have grown too soft

Maybe life would be so different,
Maybe it would just be the same,
Maybe I'd have never lost myself,
If only I'd known your name

Maybe this exercise is failing,
Maybe I should accept what's here,
'Maybe' doesn't change a thing,
And I'm happy, now that you're near
I just wanted to share this Valentine's poem I wrote for my girlfriend, Amy.  It truly is nice to be with someone stable, that balances my sad moments with nights of wonderful snuggling, and appreciates how hard I try to make her smile.  Happy late Valentine's Day, Hello Poetry!!
379 · Feb 2020
Swashbuckler
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Heave **! Your cry astounds
Flummoxing your enemies ashore
Debonaire you brandish pistol and sword
Cutting down resistant scallywags

Thy treasure shall be mine!
You dash haphazardly between slashes
Excitement and *** course through
Fueling you to victory

Imposing is thy stance!
Booted foot on stack of cannon *****
Actioned-packed adventure
As you reave and raid the seas

Your adventure keeps me alert
But my ship's an iron beast of land
I think of daring combat
And your exploits give me hope

I load my rifle in hot anticipation
Prepared to write my own adventure
The giant steel hatch lowers
And hot iron rips through me

My adventure ends prematurely
My *** is without excitement and masks pain
A hospital bed now serves as my galleon
Your book by my bedside, untouched
This poem was inspired by 3 months of laying in a hospital, as I had major surgery on my back, kidney, shoulder.  It was a terrible experience that I would never want anyone to share.  I remember being so ******* reading books about glamour and adventure.  Rarely does adventure leave you without scars and war is far from glamourous.  War is hell.
377 · Mar 2020
Face Yourself
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Stop
hiding behind
rationalizations
and excuses
for your
cruel behavior,
savage taunts,
wicked ways,
life failures,
evil thoughts,
feeble resilience,
weak fortitude,
that have left
a trail
of those who
loved you
and face yourself,
by yourself.
Yeah, I get tired of people constantly making excuses for why they are less than awesome people that hurt those around them.  Let's turn down the toxicity guys!
373 · Feb 2020
Slipping
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
I lost my grip again
The cut-rate pirate promised prose and protection from the maniac
Matters to me not never
I SCREAM!
This tattered trailer tailored to the times forever forgotten
Freaking out, falling again
This echo echoes.  Intensity.  Intergalatic.
Spacially challenged to challenge spaces in between
This gap, I grasp, at grapes, grown guilty
In soft soil
That pirate Bill wrote me into his will after taking his pill
He said in final words "I'm slipping"
I slipped again
This time the fall fractured fragile fasteners binding me.  I'm fragile
As fermentation fixes my faulty circuits
Crickets, chirp chirp chirp
As she says "Take your pills"
As I scream
I'M SLIPPING
This poem is a play on word/phrase palindromes, alliteration, and mid-stanza rhyme schemes.  I think everyone has been to a point where they just want to ***** a series of words to make themselves feel better.  I hope everyone else that suffers from mental health challenges appreciates this poem and finds an outlet that suits their individual needs and desire to let some of those inner thoughts free
352 · Mar 2020
Tinkering
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
With hard hammers and soft glibness
They approached the forest,
It's encroaching majesty looming,
threatening to overwhelm

Sharp tools were used to trim,
To tear and rend through supple vine,
Felling great trees
As flames engulfed the underbrush

Each man and woman smiled,
exchanging thoughtful pleasantry,
Hi-fives and good-hearted jokes;
Completion of a hard days task

They returned the next day,
Trucks full of building materials,
Tools in rough calloused hands
Only to find the forest renewed

The forest had returned
With a mighty vengeance,
Unapologetic at it's thicker growth,
Looming over the workers

Greater tools of destruction were wielded
Attacking the forest,
Until barely a stem or stump stood
And cries of shared victory echoes

Yet the following day
The forest stood again, in quiet majesty,
Man and woman will never learn;
No matter the tinkering
We are not the masters of nature
But mastered by it
351 · Jan 2021
From Whence We Came
Michael Stefan Jan 2021
Muddy boots and snow thawing
Next to central fireplace
A heat that bakes the ***** floor
A floor to which we all walk
Day in and day out
As leaves fall from trees
Until the day
We lay face-up
With hands folded
As we return back to
This dark baked clay
347 · May 2020
the artist and the thief
Michael Stefan May 2020
you stole my heart with music
playing in the background
while you danced around
flicking paint upon the canvas
as I sat and ate my breakfast
on a warm morning in July
your artwork always made me cry
a beauty I had never seen
while you worked in faded jeans

     then one day you were gone
     no paint, nor sun, nor growing song
     I wondered if I had always been wrong
     or if you had ever been

          so I picked up pen and paper
          and I began to write a caper
          where a thief with rugged charm
          and a smile that would disarm
          robbed every single gallery
          from San Diego to D.C.
          and left a little rose
          which is how I learned my prose
          but soon the wonder faded
          as I grew way past jaded
          but I swear when you return
          my ink will lose its angry burn
          and I'll paint you a bouquet
          and hope this time you'll stay
          my heart won't lose its nerve
          from my mission, I won't swerve
          I'll write a symphony with my words
          ...the kind that you deserve
This is a piece dedicated to the ones that got away.  I'm sure that we have all had that person that we spent so much time with.  Every day our love for them grew and grew without us even recognizing it at first.  Finally, when it hits, it's usually too late or we say the wrong thing and ruin it.  So cheers!  To the ones that got away!
326 · Mar 2021
An Ode to E. E. Cummings
Michael Stefan Mar 2021
oh naught is a child taught.  patriot.  hating it.  standing for the silver bells.  scream upon the idiot box until the blind deaf dumb - unfounded in your belief.  whosoever holds the sword is sworn to the hoard and sits above board as you swing for your lord.
deafening is the caw of crows
a grave upon to plant rose
in rows of swaying circles
as the world comes back around

and you sit silently and cough as they turn off the camera.  finally alone
I have loved the work of E. E. Cummings and used to read 'next to of course god america i' when I was in the military, to look at the just and unjust nature of each mission.  I think he firmly encompasses the duality of fighting for something you believe in and having the fortitude to evaluate if what you believe in is right.  And that does not just apply to war but all forms of conflict you engage in.  Think about each keystroke you make.  Cheers to you, Mr. Cummings!
322 · Mar 2020
Love Song
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
You always
knew
exactly
which
chord
I liked

You always
sang
off-key
but
I loved
it

You knew
just
how
to
carry
a beat

Every
smile
of yours
was
a note
in our love song
I wanted to share a more positive poem since most of my recent uploads have had a very negative connotation.  Hope you enjoy it!
317 · Feb 2020
Bad Luck
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Speak my name
And I shall materialize
Casting dark shadows
To blind your eyes
And bind you
To misfortuned destiny
Speak my name
And prepare to see
That bad luck has a dearly cost
But comes to you for free
306 · Feb 2020
Tyrannosaurus Rex
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
"Lo, tremble before my might
Shatter ye, all trees blocking me
I needn't pay heed to birds of flight
Nor great beasts beneath the sea

For my wings are powerful legs
My wake the thunderous echoing
Scatter beta predators, you dregs!
As I give chase that's harrowing

Dear prey, your futile efforts fail
Beneath teeth, your meat I shall annex
I am gigantic from teeth to tail
The legend of Tyrannosaurus Rex"

The small boy snarled and sat alone, the fearful quickly exiting the sandbox
This poem was a simple rhyme scheme that was ultimately inspired by Bill Watterson's "Calvin and Hobbes."  I wanted to create a poem of heavy imagery that allowed us to relate to our childhood when we too attempted to conquer the sandbox with toys that we cherished.  I hope you like it!
305 · Feb 2020
love's lost resolve
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
i shoulda
woulda coulda
stayed and fought
your screams
grew too angry
your temper grew too hot
you brandished
cruel mistakes made
like serrated knives
i fled and hid
knees buckling
at this domestic strife
i swore
i'd grow the strength
to come back inside
but never did
my backbone grow
my resolve just up and died
i wish
i was more powerful
and clung to you so tight
but i just
got into my truck
and drove away that night
A simple rhyme scheme to express those moments when you fail to push through the pain and strife and tell someone what they mean to you, to say "I'm sorry", and to let them take out their frustrations with you.
302 · Feb 2020
Tattooed
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.
301 · Feb 2020
Only the strong survive
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
In nature, beauty and strength coalesce
In nature, only the strong survive
In nature, strength determines life's longevity
Be strong I think, as I open my front door
Sometimes, we all need a little pep-talk.
296 · Mar 2020
Splinter
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Tiny sliver of wood
placed in accident
beneath fingernail
or under skin
stings greater
in the moment
than gunshot or knife.
For a splinter
always pokes
at our carelessness
and pierces straight
our most useless
*****: pride
295 · Feb 2020
we dance
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
You never judged me for my two left feet
Your smile kept me on the dance floor
You teased me about my discomfort
But always ended with encouragement
We held each other close as the world faded
While you taught me how to dance
This poem is actually about one of my best friends Shannon.  She always wanted to go dancing with me and I refused for so long.  One day she convinced me and I have loved dancing ever since.  She's an amazing person that I owe so much to.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
You visited Darkness on my doorstep
A maelstrom of madness behind a cracked clown's mask
Your rictus grin cast shadows on my house guests
An upheaval of war broke out at gentile dinner party

Your heavy booted footsteps echoed in the antechamber
As you strode so confident into cacophonious dinner
Laying hands on hors d'eouvres and rotting sweet flesh
Forcing famine to descend on friendly folk

You played with the delicacy of human frailty
As you coughed with hollow wet echoes, racking paper lungs
Spreading filth and vile pox from woman to man
A sickly green pestilence wrapped tendrils around them all

And lastly, you stood before me brandishing gloved finger
You pointed at my chest and asked me, "Are you ready?"
The delight you took from all this rancor, truly sickening
You visited death upon my dining table with glee

But death won't get what it wants on this cold day
Not with heavy heeled boots of war, nor from feast to famine
Not with the pox of pestilence, no horse will drag me away
You came bearing darkness my friend,
But in a quiet valediction, I shall have to ask you to leave
Not actually sure what happened when I wrote this one.  I was feeling grumpy at fairweather friends and had recently read a graphic novel depicted the horsemen of the apocalypse in an every-day-life scenario.  I decided to blend the idea that bad friends carry these horsemen in them and will always want to share them even if everyone else is having a good time.
292 · Feb 2020
Hollow Dreams
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
If you dream you are a bird, you cannot wake to flight
If you dream you are a shark, teeth and gills shall not come
You may dream of wrongs being righted
And of fair and deserving treatment for all
But your dreams will ring hollow
For dreams are beautiful errands for fools
That come freely without consequence
And change happens in waking hours
Which is paid for in blood, sweat, and tears
289 · Feb 2020
Ode to Robert Frost
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Mr. Frost, so prolific that you are
I was hoping that you could advise
For I find myself in a yellow wood
And I too am but just one traveler
My two feet can only tread in one direction

And I long to leave a black boot mark
While I continue down the right path
Leading me so expertly to destiny
But much like you, obstacles arise
But unlike you, my path further divides

Where you stood before a fork
I now spy a great and twisted rake
That fills me with impending dread
Paths varied in their wear and tear
From paved to grassy, or overgrown

Mr. Frost, here is my dilemma
You chose the path less traveled
And it made all the difference in your life
But how can one traveler ever know
Which specific path for them is right?
I truly love Robert Frost and figured that I would write a poem dedicated to his prolific "The Road Not Taken".  It was so beautiful and genius in it's crafting and delivery.  I have always wondered what it would be like with more than one path.  I think in today's technological and complex world, we are constantly assaulted by numerous decisions that echo through the rest of our lives.  R.I.P. Robert Lee Frost.
288 · Feb 2020
A long goodbye
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Her tears soak my shoulder
As her grip grows ever tight
Her daddy got a new job
No longer working longest nights
I utter just a sniffle
As my hand glides along her back
So much more than a friend
Is leaving on those steel train tracks
That moment drags on forever
As she reminds me what we've been through
And abruptly she grabs her things and leaves
And I'll never get the chance to say
"I love you"

Goodbye Jody
283 · Mar 2020
Black Ribbons
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
She tied a black ribbon around my wrist
Like a dark lake reflecting moonlight
And in my enchantment, I missed
The ribbon was tied far too tight

She tied a black ribbon around my neck
So cold on my skin like ice
And in my fervor, I failed to see
The ribbon was knotted up thrice

She tied a black ribbon around my heart
Winding its way through my veins
She gave a tug, and I gave a start
As her ribbon turned out to be chains
This is a really dark poem that came about from being young and dating.  I was really into this girl who didn't view me the same way.  Instead of letting me down, she carried me along.  I was too stupid to see that I was being used and couldn't get out of the situation.  The poem is built on a simple lyrical rhyme structure.  Hope you guys like it!
279 · Mar 2020
One last rainstorm...
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Sweet pitter-patter,
The drumming of raindrops,
Lulling me gently,
To realms of sweet dreams,
And bright lights.

That soothing tapping,
Of raindrops hitting,
A freshly washed windshield,
Cradled against plush leather seats,
By tightly pulled seatbelt.

A loud crack of thunder,
Even sounds restful,
On the side of a well-worn highway,
Lighting the night sky,
Like a beacon of hope.

The sickly pitter-patter,
Of crimson drops hitting leather,
Contrasted to the beauty of the rain,
Trapped beneath seatbelts,
And bent metal.

Sweet soft drumming,
Of raindrops on my window,
And the ruined hood of my car,
If the lightning beacon doesn't bring help soon,
I am at least glad...
...to see one last rainstorm.
277 · Feb 2021
Heartfelt Assassin
Michael Stefan Feb 2021
You held all the putty knives
Twisted-time arrows made of 40 oz dreams
Silken ropes used for belts
Just to hang me where I stand

I saw your popsicle stick ****** rifle
A ****** scout wearing a sandstorm veil
I can hear you whisper in the wind
As you crept into my heart

I hope your pink-haired clown mask fit
Never reveal your true identity
Never let them see your true intention
As you cut out my heart for feasts

Just because you bring flowers
Doesn't mean they can't turn
Into blood-covered razor blades
As you made all your decisions
276 · Mar 2021
Thunder
Michael Stefan Mar 2021
I pray for thunder
A loud clap
Preceded by bright light

Just a little thing
To break the silence

Something to cut
Through our quiet lives
To break the monotony
To break the status quo

I pray for thunder
Loud enough to topple
Every broken institution
And each and every
Person who stands
Crooked like a bending line

I pray for thunder
To snap us from our stupor
Crumbling our closed
And placid attention span

Like a gavel from the sky
To beat the courtroom table
A judgement on the wicked
A call for introspection
A chorus of forgotten
And the poor that we ignore

I pray for thunder
I pray for thunder
I pray for revolution
#freedom #equality #dontbeasheep #bethechange #ourworld

That's right, I used hashtags this time :P
263 · Mar 2021
Attitude
Michael Stefan Mar 2021
Where on person can spin gold from straw,
Another squeeze silver into clutter
A positive attitude will always determine;
Who makes precious metal,
And who swims in seas of *******
Just a musing on perspective and the power of positivity
259 · Mar 2020
Tremendous
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
The weight of love is tremendous;
heavy like gold,
worn like manacles,
bourne by those
with or without it
The tragedy of love is catastrophic;
deeply rooted,
never gentle,
comes and goes
as it pleases
The world of love is pure savagery;
battles raging,
without survivors,
everyone is
love's refugee
The weight of love is tremendous;
Yet still a burden I wish to bear
Everyone thinks this poem is so sad but it's designed as an imagery monologue to remind us that love is something we need in our lives and will always always always have positive and negative implications and effects on our lives.  Hope you enjoy it!
257 · Feb 2020
In memoriam
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
-in honor of Matthew Hennigan, Vinson Adkinson and everyone else who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their brothers and sisters in arms, you are missed every day

Oh, sweet empty mountain
in your quiet majesty,
Overwatching flowing rivers
meandering through a hushed valley,
And the sparsely growing forest
littered with ruins of times forgot,
In this silent, flowing landscape
for which many nations have fought

Oh, the things you've seen oh mountain,
from triumph to betrayal
To lovers' first awkward kiss,
and children battling so playful
And in waves, you saw it change,
one year peace, the next year tense
You have witnessed arc of all mankind,
each and every sad offense

You witnessed the day when they sat
upon your steep marble mountainside,
Wrapped in ratty tan blankets,
whose purpose was to let them hide
And fingers lay on naked triggers,
muzzles pointed to the road
Cloaked men carried bandoliers,
so their gunners needn't reload

And in the early dawn of light,
the first 'crack' echoed off your side
As a battlefield erupted,
the roaring of a violent fight
Oh, you ancient hunk of rock,
overseeing all as many died
In the distance could you hear,
the faint sound as we all cried?

Rest in peace you glorious *******
I love you Matty and Vinny
I'll see you again one day
Can't really talk about this one.
252 · Mar 2020
Downshift
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Everyone moves too fast.
Freeways of humanity move like ants
Scrambling for sugar
Or just something to make them feel
A pinpoint of light at the end of the tunnel
Or a pinprick of pain,
Arranged against the lonely desert backdrop

On these freeways
Politeness is a sign of submission
Showing our stomach to the apex predators
Wishing they don't move too quickly
To take us from our journey
But we all move too quickly

Like an angry beehive,
Always buzzing with excitement
Or is it fear?
In our mechanized strive for productivity
We lost the slow-moving essence
Of why creation exists

Downshift

And move slowly off the freeway
Away from hill and hive
To park benches surrounded in flowers
Move slowly as your hand touches hand
Your lips touch their lips
Downshift
And take a moment for yourself
251 · Feb 2021
The Big 300
Michael Stefan Feb 2021
Yep,
I did it
I finally filled the halls
300 soldiers of word, standing by
300 birds, let out of the cramped cage
300 thoughts, marching down the street
A soft fire flickering
With 300 feet of smoke

I poured everything
Of myself, of my fears
All my hopes and love
Everything I've dreamt
And all the beats,
Of my sometimes mechanical heart
Into these poems

300 poems like a small kingdom
Each one, catharsis
Each one, a frustration
Each one, a gift
Like the old sweaters;
Grandma gives each Christmas

And on this day,
I ***** a pinnacle
To each moment of anger,
Each feeling of love,
Each pain that echoes,
Each sign of creativity,
And look over the pain of life

I want to read your poems
I want to know I'm not alone
Take everything of yourself;
And melt it into a colorful pen
Write until your fingers bleed
And share of yourself
Never be afraid
We are your peers,
We are your lovers,
We are your friends,

And just as your have been,
for me
We will always be here,
For you.
This is my 300th poem.  Almost everything since mid-2020 has been original and recent work, while everything before is dated from my childhood and on.  I cry with joy at each piece of work that I have shared.  Putting my thoughts on paper have made a lot of dark times more manageable.  And each encouraging word from all of you made me believe, and know, that we are truly a community.  Love you HP!  And thanks for all the encouragement up to now.  I think I'm going to take the day to provide that encouragement back and read through some of your older poems :)
250 · Feb 2020
Terraform
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
You left me empty like the vacuum of space
Each portion of me aching to be filled
But instead, my insides felt like barren planetary bodies
Loose red soil provides no nutrients
All life ceased to exist long ago
Everyone dreams of being the first human feet on mars
But I wish only to terraform my broken heart
Going through a lot of these old poems is forcing me to relive some of my happiest and saddest times.  It's been an emotional roller coaster.  This piece was written after a girl that I loved, who very much loved space, walked away without even a little fight to keep the relationship alive.
249 · Feb 2020
Crocodile Smile
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
He proffered his gloved hand filled with guarantee
His blue eyes flickered greedily like the swirling of the sea
His hair was dark and soft, as if of silken twine
His crocodile smile beckoned, "your soul it will be mine"

His arms and legs bent to and fro, waving impossibly
I could smell his want burning my nose ever so pungently
His deal, he swore, "Was better than any I'd ever know"
He towered over, leaning forth, his wickedness did grow

A red bowtie, two-button suit, his clothes immaculate
I stared at him, wondering, too much time to contemplate
And in the end, I shook his hand, my resistance was futile
Each of us has fallen for a dark reptilian smile
This poem was my parallel between a deal with the devil and the deal we make with ourselves each time we say we won't do something again.  Each of us has struggled with something in our lives that we wish we could stop.  I hope that one day each of us won't shake hands with the weakest part of ourselves
Michael Stefan Feb 2021
She spoke in tones of innocence,
The heart makes you defenseless,
Her anodyne smile,
Could stick around awhile,
As we bask in our reticence

She spoke in a soft tongue so foreign,
A place I could not determine origin,
Her words, they killed my pain,
Driven from madness to sane,
Listening to her covert chorus
Here's the word challenge of the day.  This one was a little difficult, but I think it's nice when someone is able to lull us from aggressive posturing, dulling the war we weave in our head.
242 · Mar 2021
A Lesson in Introspection
Michael Stefan Mar 2021
I eat, sleep, breath a self rendition
A puppet acting what should be,
The greatest work of art;
Life

Yet, arms and legs
Are bound in fallow strings;
Like earth-binding vines,
meant to drag the angels down

Never hold tight;
Gripping all our mistakes,
Like a life-raft,
In a churning sea, we have yet to understand

All footsteps,
Disturb the gravel ground,
As we lead them,
Or they lead us,
Towards whatever goal we choose
Just a musing on how we can forge our own destiny, but sometimes play the role of the casual onlooker to our own lives.  Wake up and do the thing you are too afraid to do.
227 · Feb 2020
Time
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
I watch kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall
I've seen you live a thousand lives
And witnessed every awkward kiss in two-door hatchbacks
I've seen every fist thrown in anger
And every expression of love through art
I've seen every tyrant rise to power
And every act of a strong people pull them down in chains
Then they rise to an ultimate greatness
And although the pattern always repeats
I rather enjoy the last one
A hopeful look at immortality
217 · Feb 2020
In Definition of Triumph
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Define yourself in your own terms
Let triumph wash over you
Bask in the glow of your own definitions
Walk free surrounded in your own truth
One man walked on the moon
As one man learned to walk again
One woman sacrificed for a nation
As one woman became a citizen of her new home
A family of famous daredevils
And a family that got their son clean
Don't let others define your triumph
Be great
Act great
Revel in your accomplishments
And love your limits while breaking them
217 · Feb 2020
macro/micro/inside/out
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
This universe so massive, complexities galore
Yet terrified I am, to exit my front door
This massive world beckons, a seductive cry
How can a one-bedroom apartment dweller
Understand the sky

Circulation and life complete with each heartbeat
Each pulse pushes life throughout city streets
Microcosmic revolutions of electron protocols
As massive heavenly bodies orbit
Above us neanderthals

Why do we know so much yet understand so little
As we arrange life's pieces like a puzzle made so brittle
Around us everywhere life continues to be in bloom
We are but hungry ants
And this universe, we'll consume
My thoughts on existentialism and attempting to understand things from subatomic to universal.  A scientific conference sometime in the 70s decided that it was the ultimate fate of intelligent life to ultimately destroy itself.  We all seek knowledge, but at what cost do we gain our analysis.  What is the price of being able to order our understanding into a neat line of labels.
214 · Feb 2020
consciousness.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Am I ever awake anymore
Or do I ever dream at all
This war-torn landscape that is my mind finds no rest
I watch the clock tick by
A scout in infinite cubicle farms
One thousand, four hundred and forty
Instances of repetition
My numbed sense of excitement tingles as the clock reaches five
Ticking by each second turned to minute turned to gray
What happiness do I derive from completion of work
I sit sullenly watching sitcoms through red-rimmed eyes
I don't think I'll sleep again
I don't know if I have ever woken up
My reality is fading out to textured grays
Maybe I will fade out too
But night turns to day turns to ash
As I slowly count away
One thousand, four hundred and forty minutes left of consciousness
After a tragic deployment to Afghanistan, I struggled with insomnia pretty badly.  I went weeks without getting any measurable quantity of sleep.  I spent what felt like years on my couch trying to slow down my racing mind.  It took a long time to adjust back to normal.
Next page