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8.3k · Jun 2017
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
I think everyone dies
I truly do
Every time they close their eyes
They remain motionless for hours
Until they are revived

Do you disagree?
Clearly you do
Care to show me your proof
So that it may sway me
To a more accepted pasture

"Well what of their vitality?"
"They still move and shiver"
"And they breathe as if alive"
"Surely if something died"
"Their movement would cease"

Yes, their heart beats, and yes, they awaken
But I truly think they, themselves, leave

Why do I arrive at this?
You mean how,
Through a simple observation
I suppose it, at least, to me
It began like this:

When blackest blanket with yellow dots encircled
The sky and the heavens above
I found myself watched and groped by the air
For someone was watching me
When nobody was there.
My Friend said to make my poem flow more instead of rhyme I disagree but here you go I attempted it.
1.8k · Jul 2017
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
I saw a beggar pass me by today
On my way to catch a train
I offered him a sandwich
"No" he said in pain

"Sir, just take it there is no need to pay"
But my offer fell in vain
"I need you to consume it"
I held out my chain

He seemed to move closer
But turned his head away

"Do you want it, use your words for god's sake!"
I said hoping to provoke
"Speak an answer, yes or no?"
I hoped to invoke

"I am offering you something you want"
This must be a twisted joke
"Please I want you to take it"
Suddenly he spoke

With a long, searing stare
He licked his lips and said,

"It holds no matter what I desire"
His eyes peered into my heart
"I-I do not look through rose tint"
He shattered apart

"If you saw in my eyes the memories"
His list stopped before the start
"And you know not what I want"
That phrase, simple art

He calmed down a little
And I decided to say:

"You want to be fed, I know this is true,
You cannot remove a past attached to you,
So, please eat and enjoy life"

He hesitated and decided
Then said: "Your train has arrived"

And he faded away
I told this from the perspective of a friend
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
I was alone.
With the pitter patter

My solemn mouth
From a bitter shatter.

I still hear.
The waters eating waves

My hearts flutters
Reflecting the knave.

I had fun.
With another rosary

My soul asks,
"Was it just tonight?"

I dont feel.
I dont feel now

My passions stills
With a heart bow.

I feel distracted.
Why do I look?

My senses joined
As my brains crook.

I lose belief.
In self fufillment

My feelings pass
The path to sacrament.

I want death.
Upon my stimulation

My feeling gone
I give a libation.

I am tranquil.
Not sad, or desperate

My face is rational
As emotion is separate.

I offer myself.
And give peacefully

My ending, my soul
And my entire body.

To unlock the peace I found and to keep it forever.
1.5k · Jun 2017
A Dream
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
My hands are shaking
Because I saw you again
Where I should be safe
Well, no more sleep I guess
827 · Jan 2018
The Light to my Desolation
Mike Virgl Jan 2018
With pedal's red flush
A rose grew in the arctic
Survivng to blush
How can on interpret a poem when no one has a clue who, what or where it is about? What if even the author is unsure?
751 · Jun 2017
True Reprieve
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
She motioned for me to move
I repeated my reply
"Do you not wish for my love?"
No I do not wish for lie
"But we should be, cant you see"
No I cannot, remember?
"Please do speak, I need it for m-"

I stood off the bench we shared
She looked as she wished, naive
"Was it you for who he cared?"
I saw the white web she weaved
"You are to he, waves of sea "
Her gaze caught mine, and she sobbed
"Never seek, time kills you and m-"

And then she rushed forward and grabbed my hand
"If I cannot turn back time and have he"
"I wish to never exist"

I combed through her hair to remove the sand
"I'm afraid you never did, but only"
"In my foolish head"

And then she was gone and I was alone
Without comfort, or imagination
I walked to my place calling mothers phone
I laughed, an empty reverberation

"I'm sorry but you were right, he lost mind"
"Never chase a hope, or dream"
"Because I am put in physical binds"
I felt my head start to gleam

Giggling, I broke my phone on the ground
"How can perfection be achieved!" I said
"It cannot," I whispered without a sound
Looking up, there was a solution laid

"Goodbye," finally filled with happy tone

An explosion of peace ripped through my head
And that was all, a single piece of lead
Evidence of my answer
To impossible problems
This was fun to do but agonizing to make. It was my first time attempting to do poetic dialogue. I do not now how I feel about it yet. I thought it was at least interesting.
657 · Jun 2017
My Cock Rages On!
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
Blasting through the night
At the scoundrels camp
Wine is used to fight
Rome's searching lamp

"Don't fear lift to song!"
"Standard Eagle's gone!"
"Men mighty and strong"
"Look to morning's dawn"

"For Rome trembles as a newborn fawn"
"Because my **** still rages on!"
IDK I love this in the series.
656 · Dec 2017
Mike Virgl Dec 2017
What have you done?
Nothing at all
Sitting here, as the time
Passes; as a candle

What will you do?
Well at four in the morning
There is not a lot.
Except the cold
And the enclosing

Why did you do this?
Well can that be said?
Honestly, and bluntly,
Straight out would the
Answer stick?

It would become lodged.
Because words unravel mysterious
And mean nothing all at the same time.

Who am I?
What a pertentious question to ask.
You have no right to ask,
Nor mind to conceive it.

What am I meant for?
Well to live and to die.
Make an impact on someones life,
Good or bad, time has no universal code.

What am I doing?
Looking for an answer
To a question I have about people,
And also about me.

Should you lean upon a crutch?
What if you are a crutch yourself?
What if someone took you away?
What if you merely were a crutch to a table?
How awful really.

But what is the matter? You've found it!
A place for yourself.
You see, you do not matter.
A crutch, a dime a dozen so cheap.

That is what you get from lack of sleep I guess, and lack of meaning I guess, and lack of health I guess.
A crutch that wanders, looking for what it means to be independent or leaned on, and if it is truly a curse or a blessing.

How silly is this anaology?
I think it is downright clear.
But I am a rambling madman
With an end soon near.

As soon I will be gone, this consious shed.
I will wake up this morning, tired in bed.
I will reach my hands and feel a change.
I will no longer feel; it is quite strange.

And I wish I could say I did resist,
But I did not.
For the immoral base upon my kingdom,
Is founded upon my thoughts
And actions of sin.

I laugh and I laugh and I laugh.
How little will do I have?
I am just a piece of dust,
Moved by the slightest wind
Of dismay.
Thoughts at 4 am
634 · Oct 2018
The single comment, vortex.
Mike Virgl Oct 2018
Fruit is rarely perfect,
Under soil in a ditch.
Can a little paranoia,
**** the ***** thought,


Stinging and Hovering and Infecting and Tantalizing?
Ever see something that made you spiral?
633 · Aug 2017
Humanity's Nadir
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
The clergy men often say
"Devout and holy we gather"
"Sit down for only we"
"Interpret god"

Did you remember the day?
When all the priests that stood
Gazing from under their hood
Lied plain for you

All promising that your pay
"Would go to our most pure father"
"His heavenly host cures"
"And leads us home"

Yet, look what they did to pray
For that little girl did
Kneeling down as pearl did
For Father or for God?
Innocence stolen by men forced to dire actions by an ancient society of hypocritical monsters.

This just has been an idea of mine I've been working on, it may not be that great.
554 · Jul 2017
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Centuries stretch into decades
Decades crumble to years
Years dilute to months
Months spoil to weeks
Weeks transform to days
Days pass through hours
Hours scramble to minutes
Mintues fall onto seconds

And it goes and goes
With a logramthic speed
While I stand still
To contort some truth:

Man made measurments meticulously made
May mark mere moments
With words witheld within
Wallowing waves wash white, "whys?"


I speak in riddles as I should
When faced with nothing
But left with the word "could?"

Could of? Of course. Could I? Yes.
I could do anything, definitely
But no I would never
It is a hopless endeavor

And death ushers who it will
And brings their heart to a still
As we all look to how old
To comfort us
From death's hold

For his grip is unrelenting, arbitary, overreaching and perpetual
Nonsensical greatgrandmother you inspired me

I swear im crazy *** is this
539 · Jun 2017
I Hate Phonies
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
Art is dead
Sold out and bought

The artist is dead
Killed by a golden weight

But the artist is now rich
It only took him an hour
To build a house with no foundation
only a week to sell the deception

Wait, where is his skin, did he not shed the white?
It lounges in the shade under a redwood tree

But what does it do, it cannot just sit all the day
It does far more than just become part of a portrait scene

But no one sees him, after all he is just a hollow skin
Struggling to pick the right word, or phrase that completes his fragment
Why does it take him months to complete, why does he not sell for profit?
How do you sell an apology? Can our souls be bought now at market?

He takes long
Because he cares
Its been annoying me recently, how many poems I've read that seem they've been spit out in seconds, with no rules or designs to make them interesting. I don't know. Some people probably feel the same way about some of my poems too.
530 · Oct 2017
A Florist
Mike Virgl Oct 2017
How do you obtain the grower of love?
Will it take the flight of another dove?
To reach the skies and receive the light
How blinded I am by your helpless sight
No longer should you be so bold or rash
To sit is to run and avoid the lash
And look to the ground to soak in the red
A flower takes time to grow from the dead
From seed and patience this rose did arise
To kiss the grower, a pleasant surprise
I did this poem for English class. it is (I hope) in perfect iambic pentameter, however I may come back to revise it if I see a mistake. This poem is dedicated to a renewed hope, and wonderful feelings of happiness.
522 · Sep 2017
To Myself
Mike Virgl Sep 2017
Propelled by what?
A forces driving
To cliffs edge
Thinking of something
He could never commit

However, sadly the mind
Breaks every now and then
To release a flood?
To retrieve releif?
Or to pass a test?

But we never get any answers

For after broken
The mind is gone
Orginal thought flies
Far from the mess
It enabled to prosper

Left we are
With the mans body
Hallowed out by attempt
His answers he speaks
Saying only one thing

"Never allow a series of events"
"To spiral to such a low as mine"
"To cliffs I conquerd"
"To chasms I fell"
"All for a red sunset"

No one had the heart to tell him
The sun does not shine at night...
Everythings darker in moonlight
461 · Jul 2017
Glory to strive for
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Look to this when you are hungry, and sinning
and look deeply into your vision, what do you see?
A man made marvel. That is all. Is that what you strive for?
To obtain nothing and hold it for god to see is simply heinous.
Unrepentant ignorance. So is that who you wish to be? The pathetic corner where no one treads, the person who has no future tense, and even the person who lacks any will. Constitution, I should say.
You are who you make yourself, after all who controls everything you do? Inaction and action have the same power, so decide. Choose for yourself, is it now, or tomorrow, or even better, never?
I kinda just made this for me to look at... i need a life coach
Mike Virgl May 2017
Can a man reach the height of his dreams?
The true mechanic of righteous action
Outstretched grip of the ripping seams
Tumble down from its holy retraction

And realize everything is for naught
And everything you have ever sought
Lies in his graces dazzling bright palace
   Lies of my own form the cracked floors of solace

Filled with the bloated, pallid, and free of ambitions
Tangled hair and deepening wound of my intention
A ****** pond greets you with its callous retention
Stowed beneath, dark images taunt these last mentions

     As they all remember this will be their
As they lay down and look to god's cryptic
And they all search

He is not one but alone with the
Stolen from him, he finds his future passes
From teary grip

I guess it will never rain in these fields
because it is pouring
God has closed this asylum, to contain shades from Elysium
For you see a sudden sight, multiplied by their unending night
Lead hauntings to stare through their own shapeless eyes,
In the fields of mourning
455 · Jun 2017
Jesus Christ
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
Kneeling on your knees
Its all just a funny game
Taking his name in vain

Let it fall like rain
Lock broken with new keys
I now know, see him tame

Oh God,
OH God,

And now I am left
Without my white dress to wear
He gave it to me clean

I damaged it's shine
Howling his name felt just right
Bathed in his holy stare

Oh God,
OH God,


God that was amazing.
Why? This was just in my brain
455 · May 2017
Mike Virgl May 2017
Call out to the last one
Open concession
Dumbly, look for the sun
Young man's succession
Listen to the air speak
Inert confession
Vacant tears start to leak
Enough is a lesson
Start to fix yourself, brother
This is the first of a two part poem, the next poem is Dear, Friend of mine
409 · Oct 2017
Mike Virgl Oct 2017
Never give a blind man this power
For he will use it for evil
Causing thousands in their youthful flower
To only strive for one purpose

For when afflicted by his poison puncture
No longer do they move onward
They are assured, convinced by a sound structure
That they must keep climbing one tree

Did any of them reach their destination?
What branch did they wish to climb to?
Were they forced by intense fascination?
Why do they no longer explore?

A summation must be made to explain
my answer

They have become polarized by sunny seams
The top of the tree is so close
Yet continuing the tree with glowing gleams
Grows far above their tiny heads

So then they sit and wait in the tree
On a branch they stay for days, months, even YEARS
for one purpose

And they all wonder the same question
Is it dedication to simply compromise and go with the growth
or is it hopeless, and meaningless?

The answer to the question
I do not know
But there is one thing evident
Cupid uses only one arrow
And never misses his mark
399 · Aug 2017
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
From war to war torn
The countryside lay
Another boy worn
From the front lines

His head molded grass
Cold from the day
And that gray pass
Where many men die

His fathers sound
Thrown from rampart
Flung to the ground
By gunpowder

"Father how could you?"
The lame echo
Fell in lieu to
Another shot

Yet across the sea
Past no mans land
A body left be
By loving hands

Hole in an old head
Red mixed with green
A piece of lead
Found its owner

The boys weakened flame
Died by old hands
Gripping the same
Righteous, gray gun

That gun is buried
Beside that man
The last bullet
Killed the killer

Yet where is the blame?
On one or both?
They died the same
With fatherly love
Basically I had this idea from the really disgusting concept of when in a very desperate situation like slavery, or threats from a group that is sure to **** an entire family, some fathers will feel the need to **** their family, by their own hands, rather than let them die by others. In this theory his family would not have to suffer. Which makes sense but is a grotesque idea to entertain.

This poem is about a boy who was shot by his father. They were both opposing each other and were soldiers of separate armies. The father shot his son because already he could see he was suffering and his father knew it would only get worse, so he shot him to end his suffering. However, he could not deal with the guilt of his action, so he ended up shooting himself as well. I liked writing this, and i hope you guys enjoy it.

P.S: For really crazy people read each last line in each stanza and put them together for a mini poem
391 · Jul 2017
Humility Never Seen
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Thunder rolling over head
Hunching over the deary man said
"Everything is a lie"

Delirious from a modern revelation
Effecting his push to move on
Among the many weary from thought
The thought of the millions of piles
He is allowed to stand upon

"Oh god what are their names, dear
    god please tell"
For the foundation is built, upon the
    blood we till

All while the cycle repeats

Hundreds of millions of individuals
    we pile high
Uttering senseless words in a unifying
"May I always be alone in this mass"
"Belonging to a useless lower class"
"Love me always for I endured"
"Every hardships to try to keep

"My god how many are there" the
    dreary man asked
Anonymous characters looked at him
    from the past
Never tainted by the words of history
It has been freaking me out recently how little we will accomplish in our lives or can. Our lives are so short and fragile, so we really have to jump at every opportunity we get to do something. Billions of people have been forgotten, and the numbers grows everyday. Sailors, priests, bakers, farmers, soldiers even kings have been completely forgotten. I will too someday and thats scary but also humbling and we should respect them, the millions lost to time...
383 · Jun 2017
A Sign, or Symbol
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
What kind of fool am I?
One that shows no motion
Even though he thinks himself alone

What kind of fool is that?
A soul searching blind man
Who converts sight of facts to fiction

What does he perceive then?
He sees something in nothing
As a fanatical zealot would

What does he believe in?
Nothing, but he still looks
Remnants of God are still with him

Well then he is crazy, insane, a madman even
To search for something he knows isn't there

He is only human
This was just on my mind and I needed to get it out
373 · Jul 2017
Apprehensive Tendencies
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
it was a lie
I let myself go on
and on and on and on
and I can't stop it
without a true answer
what is there?
or was?

what was will
never be
but continue
the horrifying cycle
This is my worst work but i needed to put it out there because I've had horrible nerves this entire day because I don't know if I messed up real bad with a friend...

Also thanks to A for this idea I got this idea from you I love your work!
367 · Jun 2017
Dear, Friend of mine
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
Self pity is my disguise
Devil's obsession
Cloaked in sorrow am I
Earth's pretensions

Myself I am far worse
You are healthier
My actions are cursed
Yours wealthier

Even lies on a page grow cold
Even I can lie down and fold
A better
This is the second part of a two part series of poems the first one is called INO
354 · Aug 2017
The Cyclical Demon
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
Even the sun
Dripping with fire
Slowly dips
Until there is no more
The moon is but a reflection
and with retraction of waves
The skies pulls inward
Dotted with past
But one did outshine them all
And it does everyday
But as he missed the moon
He touched the stars
And it hurt
To be reminded
of their state of being
Trapped in a shell
In a single sky
Only watched by one
Blind fool
The addict came back for more, and he got it again, and again, and again.
351 · Jun 2017
Mike Virgl Jun 2017
Sand may hide bodies
only remembered by few
only haunting one
342 · Sep 2017
Mike Virgl Sep 2017
with a door set forth
it lay open in his mind
with his hand he waited
it never opened to his eyes

fantasy rules in our heads
when inaction enforces tyranny
upon mortal hearts and souls
dying with every blink

we are just mortal yes?
why do we think actions will fail
when no one will remeber them
they fade as everything does

Live life to breath
And breath to live
My the devil take his hand
From out of my scarmbled brain

So I may choose
With a new foucus to fuel me
I will not be bogged down
By my missed opportunities

all because I am blind
to everything real in front of me
i was living in my head
never outside it

for it was safe...
it was...
This was written to communicate my message i really want to get out there... regrets are the worst things to die with

P.s i made all the postive advice lines start with a captial because i feel it is important to draw foucus there, it is not a typo
333 · Aug 2017
Unlucky, What a Chance
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
Just when I forget
Pushing it from vision
I see a picture

Staring out a window
327 · Jul 2017
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Where is my flower
Her flowing hair, with red stains
O Where is my saint
325 · Jul 2017
A Walk Down the Beach
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Walkin' on the edge of land
Gripping hold with weary hand
Staggering over I fall to stand
What do I see?

For the end of the road is near
And spitting out at the end of the pier
A land locked farmers fear
Of the unknown

The blue waters, rising sea
Began right where you can see
All the clearness after the foamy brine
Forming a line

To divide the truth of heart
You find you can not pull them apart
The end of land is where it starts
A blue monster
I had a weird realization of how we see the sea, ocean, lakes, etc. We can see it as an end of land, or a start of sea, we can see it as a nightmare or an adventure, it can be peaceful or turbulent. It just kinda speaks to me know, I'm in between the Pacific and Atlantic right now. Take that as you will.
316 · Feb 2018
the act of breathing in
Mike Virgl Feb 2018
By god that dragon is back.
and it breaths fire,
or soot clouds
I cannot remember.
all I know is to keep away from it.
Hide, take shelter, remove myself from the temptation.
The taking of the deepest breath, is what my mind loops;
as I wish to ride the dragon one more time.
I'm back, I guess. I was just busy with school and work. I'll probably make another poem in seven years given how long its been.
312 · Aug 2017
In Remembrance
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
I forgot when
I lost myself
But I remembered
when I did
Inspired by  Walt Whitman
310 · Feb 2019
Mike Virgl Feb 2019
A nihilistic pandemic leads our way
If god is not there do we see no other place?
If one leaves may morals not stay?
Might immortal feelings fade like a face?

An animalistic epidemic bares its teeth
Is apathy a path of which we seek?
Is nothing there if there is a sheath?
Might immortal actions be mere freak?

I no longer believe the future is present
If we can choose what is true, then is anything?
291 · Aug 2018
The river.
Mike Virgl Aug 2018
See that man?
Hes swimming agaisnt the stream
to that woman on the shore,
All the while
He couldn't figure out why she was standing
I think he gets it, now.
276 · Oct 2019
The Duo
Mike Virgl Oct 2019
From two worlds, one and undone the in between
The glue that holds what can and cannot be seen
I declare that by my hands and my grace
This magic shall no longer be a wall

As love as a haste, let my commandment be a hall
To bridge the gap from where I go, to where I wish
Let me see star, for a lover's last kiss
Inspired by Star vs the Forces of Evil
248 · Dec 2018
The Fulcrum Holds the Power
Mike Virgl Dec 2018
"Heavy appendage lying above,
Your weight equals your allure

Simple leverage outside to in,
Your potential follows behind"

I said while chained to the center
Bearing my burden as I did

"Your extremities lean too far south,
Weakened your zenith splinters

Your midpoint, threatened from end to end,
Is all that neither shall bear"

The shoulders of man began to bleed,
At the axis, where a silent atlas stood

"Hold the earth and tether it to fit
Hold the end up to balance the plain

Hold each other and revel in peace
Hold fast to the fulcrum"

With these last words Atlas left
Leaving man to work
And Man alone
I wrote this poem about the political spectrum, as I feel it has not only become too violent, but people have begun to drift too far to either side and they are hurting the people in the middle.
229 · Mar 2018
For the longing
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
Hell on earth, of dreams, the rushing of all
Ostensible the making of confessions, a trio.
Levants that pilgrims must travel, to improv
Even the word, which is left, but raw to me.
224 · Aug 2018
Mike Virgl Aug 2018
For those who I've got to know.
The ones I've shown that I can grow,
and change.
Thank you for the fun, sadness, and everything in between.
You are all in memories and help make me...

This is for everyone in real life, and everyone on this site who has ever liked or loved my poems, thank you guys! I can't believe people like to read my stuff, and it just makes me happy knowing you people care.
224 · Mar 2019
How Quaint
Mike Virgl Mar 2019
Mania, as the sun hails through the breeze,
and comes to kiss the cheek of the depressed.
the winter is gone and quaintly I remiss about years of longing.
Flux, the ray places the warm degrees to skin and a feeling comes about and begins to spread. Happiness is here, yet it was not missed. Nadir, the sun is robbed by the winds and time, but the warmth still lingers; just to a lesser deegre.

May I miss the first sun of spring again.
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
Yut lycking

Ctu tcking

**** frumping

**** frazes

To tragedy a spontaneous dance;
Cuts the wire to their own thread.
The spoll they use to measure and examine,
The wait for the murdered to be murdered.

Which is, is what has already happened
See what is, is what is willed.
And will happen.
And thats the epiphany that curses me

Who knew living in the moment, would affect what hasn't even occured, the choices made by (now) a past self, determines the mental and emotional state of what parallels may exist.

Like two magnets touching, but moving hours apart.

Frumping a man

Cut the dof

Uty ylcking

Ibuo tio

lasi siem

Snshk ehesm

Why does it have to mean,
Why does everything have to mean something
Does someone steal a part of someone when they go?
And so you are left empty
Almost unfinished, but you were at some point.
Finished or whole.
You just left the conversation going and open
Almost a rant, but without meaning.
Since you were looking for a punchline, a final thing to say.
As "Goodbye" would never do it.

"Have a good life"
How improbable.
What a sour

It ended
170 · Apr 2018
Schnitzel's Poem
Mike Virgl Apr 2018
Rhadda Rhadda Rhu Rhadda?
Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda?
Rhadda Rhadda Rha? Rhadda Rhadda?
Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhadda.

Rhadda Rhadd,Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda Rhad, Rha Rhadda Rhadda,
Rhadda Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda Rha Rhadda.
Rha Rhadda, Rhadda.

"I dream of what I wish to be."


Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rha Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda.
Rhadda, Rha Rhadda, Rhadda.
Rhadda Rha.

Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda Rha Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda. Rha Rha Rhadda Rha.

Rhadda Rhadda Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda... Rha.

Is death meant to be?
If it is, can we allow it?
Can we tempt God? Is it a Temptation?
A man is just a man and there is one just like him
next to him.

The toil, Oh the toil murders souls.
Children shed their skin, as the knife cuts them,
so that from their blood, nourishment may be provided
for their ravenous, broken dreams.

"I dream of what I wish to be."

Do you?

A man was bound to be a doctor.
As Fate leads many a man.
Yet as fate does often, it changed in favor of a coin toss.
Heads, or tails, the side one.
This side won.

So let my piece be spoken, for my words are soaked and stale, and they are beginning to make me sick.

Never take the first job you find. Never make a decision based on fear, or pride. Never decide based on indecision or instability.

Live for what you wish, and never wish for what you wanted.
It leaves you... Empty

Was this version funny?
I guess it wasn't foreign sounding, now,
It sounded harsh and biting.
I guess because you finally could understand it,
it finally meant something.
Foreign things are very funny.
163 · Jun 2018
life choices
Mike Virgl Jun 2018
i am jobless,
i know
i am aimless,
i know

that is all
i know.
136 · May 2018
Mike Virgl May 2018
The humble mumble is not heard
The humble mumble is experienced

The heat is not felt
The heat,
Is experienced

I cannot describe such a feeling
The empty hole of a name
Walking, sitting, and speaking

It terrifies me
A crowd becomes a pit
And that pit swallows me
As I too succumb

To another's disregard
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
A headache that
knocks, knocks, knocks
While fingers, are closer and farther, with black dots dots dots

There is no rhythm for a universe to rule, but
Humans pretend; saying chaos is over, done, the lines we cannot cross, are completely white, let these erase all objection.

The tips waver on the light
Touch, touch, touch
As they turn to face my
Eyes, eyes, eyes

Remove one key to the stability and see men flounder
Pressure from the change, defining a stressor, which
Accelerates into a dip;

A free fall
And from this fall man finds solution -

"Gouge out creation, and or the visage.
Self mutilation seems better to be fit
Then to carry such hideous, black, venom
Which is the root, to which man unlocks
What he himself is."

The shutter stock effect leaves me without
My own touch causes me to
Recoil, recoil, recoil

Now that man is without fingers,
He has no worries, the dreaded darkness,
Which plagued his poor, unprotected fingers, are gone, as both are severed.
Now he is truly stable.
120 · Jun 2018
Mike Virgl Jun 2018
distracted people lay

they gaze, just empty hands

the mother coughs, sweats and weeps

the eggplants lay withering in dying foliage

the communications they commit
waste what little time and
breath they have left

no shred of passion is left,
they all commit to be planted
and dare not care

every mouth of movement spills out
repeated nonsense, repeated quotes
from things of repeated nature

however it is not the repetition that makes them vile
its the lack of acknowledgement it receives
the lack of emotion for anything


and the ones i connect to,
are dead, or changed forever,
for better or fo-

just for ******* worse.

you are on your own,
and when you realize that

you seize solitude as a piece of pride.
I could not think of a title for this, this is actually a couple of months old
100 · May 2018
Mike Virgl May 2018
You may make heart ache
Ache and churn
And ache

It swoons just from a look
Stare and move
And stare

The beginning of the end
The last look and move
And look

The cascading red dress
And her brown hair
And Hair

Her winged makeup, just highlights
The physical lookover
Skips my heart

I saw women today who made my heart swoon
All from a look I gave
But I never would talk to their face

They didn't deserve to be flirted with by a stranger in a donut shop at 1047 PM.

My self control entraps me.
My politeness restrains me.
Controls. Or aids me.
100 · Oct 2019
That street
Mike Virgl Oct 2019
The people I have affected,
as a car
Rolls over a road,
like a bulldozer,
I only hope they managed not to crack

At least I hope some of the concrete stayed in place.

I see some of them stable, yet
Others worry me beyond belief
I worry they are no longer recognizable,
No longer traversable
No longer what I remember

One cross section, of always, gives me fright
And to think I'll never need to go straight down that brown haired road again

— The End —