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 Oct 2015 Jade Louise
Mike Essig
my brain burns
and i can't sleep

too much poetry
too many difficult books

a part of my head
has popped open

i believe i have
a metaphysical hernia
brought on by
too much thinking

only one thing to do

truss it up tightly
and turn on reality TV

after a few episodes
my brain turns to mush
and the swelling
subsides.

brain dead bliss
not a synapse firing

absolute relief
of no thought

perfect slumber
of the seriously
stupid
Actually, I don't own a TV. :)
 Jun 2015 Jade Louise
Mike Essig
Just the brain
telling tales
we are helpless
to resist.

  ~mce
 Jun 2015 Jade Louise
Mike Essig
This story has
been told over
and over forever.

Light a daybreak.
Darkness at dusk.
Leaves in Fall.
Ice in Winter.
Lilacs in Spring.
Storms in Summer.

There are no humans
in this story;

So the story
is pointless.

It simply is
as it has always been
and will be.

  ~mce
No humans; no meaning.
Don't be afraid
the man says in tears

Its perfectly normal
the doctor winces

You'll feel better in no time
*the therapist smirks
Tonight, I put my best foot forward and failed,
My poetic flop, who cares, I guess it's better
To get 6 views in 17 minutes than 19 views in 15 seconds,
But who cares? No one is on right?
So what if I stink more the better I write?
I guess I'll just quit for good...like I even did ever know the first thing about poetry at any rate. Who cares.
 Jun 2015 Jade Louise
Noah
jupiter
 Jun 2015 Jade Louise
Noah
spinning violently
the roaring rush dampened by
dark infinity
Precipitation
I felt the raindrops
Hit my lungs
Like a cigar
I wasn't supposed to wholly inhale
But I breathed deeply
As if the earth were a hookah
With endless coals
Lit
As the street lights
Illuminated each drop
I only missed
One or two
red dragonfly
a haiku
happening

dragonfly's shadow
hovers above
the poet's words

his pen does not
dare to breath
dragonfly reading his words

his hand now
moving fast
dragonfly's shadow caught in words

dragonfly hovers
forever held in ink
the shadow of herself
https://youtu.be/swMpihgFDA4
Why ask why I like your poem? Be courageous in your ideas and ideals. Be confident enough to know that your work is true to your vision. Artists of all kinds, but especially poets, are the philosophers and prophets of their generation. A revelation does not passive-aggressively seek to be worthy. It just is. Revelators, in the converse, often are compelled to seek praise with false humility via the age old pretentious depreciation of the value of their work in order to reap praise, which is the expected polite response. It is a waltz I choose to sit out. I feel it is less than honest and a disrespect to the poet and the poem to revel in such frivolity. Write for the sake of revelation, not for the accolades of topical praise. It is no business of the poet why a poem strykes chords with a reader. Simply allow it to happen. Talent and truth are not always equatable, nor are beauty and integrity always comparable. In the heart, a poet knows he is a poet. By the very construct of your words, Poet, may you be the caster of many spells. Thank-you for sharing a bit of yourself with me. I bid thee Love and Light.
I am a voracious consumer of the poetry using on this site. Just accept the compliment of a read or a like without having to examine it.
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