Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Michael Parish Oct 2013
I never lied to my ex girlfriends.  
They were the cross and I was jesus christ.
They were like wine, red church wine.
Now to them im like a satil loaf of bread.
They turned me into sour wine not viseversa.
I never snuck out to get drunk at the bar.
They were always asleep when I came home.
They were hopelessly in love witm me.
Now im watching the final temptation of christ all alone.
Please forgive me : Agatha, Linda, Zoey, Jesika & tina.
                                    Betty, cindy, linda & edna.
                                     Angie, sandra & pam
                                          & stormy & Bethany
Most of all forgive me for what I dont remember.
I didnt make up anything when I was around the guys.
my exgirlfriends knew
Half of it wasnt true.
But Bill, Tyler, Donald, George, greg,
Tim, and frank.
All know the other half wasnt fake.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
The bay sometimes after the rain clears can
Make you smile.Then will you be able to hear my cities cry
To be named the city of destiny.  My city cries out Tacoma Washington
Pierce county area code two five three. My city says you and I are
Irish, russian, polish,and spanish.
My city says you and i are  homosexual,
bisexual, transexual, lesbian, straight and perhaps homeless.  

My city often lets
You watch us wear our costumes. our rain jackets are costumes,
Some are black, some are  white, and some have knitted desighns of children
running home after school gets out.  stitched on their back is a book about what destiny means. English isnt the only language.  In the thick pages my city tells them to rise up against intolerant people, to rise in love and hope that maybe you a stranger to my city understands a few principles my city believes in.  But we arnt strangers because you probably live in my city.  Or I dwell in yours as a proud individual dwells.  If we be strangers then let me take you through my city.  Ill put my arm around your wet shoulder and share my coat with whoever you want to be in our city of destiny.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
Apluad malcolms quiet stillness.  
Unrooted like fallen timber, and now
to be a soiled waste of passion.  
Mr.  Flood,
Sneaky Mr.  Flood,
Poured ***** in the urn.
One more drink for lifeless
thoughts.  If it be the way of death.
If it be the way of death.  
was it an ugly truth,  Yes,
And malcolm knew how ugly it was.
All the world like a bag of oranges.  
Carried  in high frutose fashion.
But,
Malcolm has no say to be involved in any
more chancless pursuites.  It was for the best in
his case anyways.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
Let there be music forever.
Let Handel, the king of kings
love JZ forever.
Let them sing: Love calls us to the things of this world.
Therefore fufilling Richard Wilburrs promise.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
We saw so much grace in her small frame,
And so much Joy from her untied spirit,
It is why we wish the cancer never tamed it.

Her strengths were bound in our young classroom.
We moved  our growing eyes away from the dry eraser board
To where she rose  her hand to wake our knappy morning gloom,
and With her genuine vocal chords, she rose all
the happy boys up against their proud pro-football dreams
to talk in boy "oh ya".

but now comes the minister and we are with her in spirit.
It is why we wished the cancer never tamed it.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
I am dangerous and unforgiving.
I know you more with the merky hours.
I make you starve until your alone
hearing unavoadiable agony.
I am the worst part of waking up
I make hope romantic.
Ill be searching to keep us
both unlockable making  
you employed to my tormenting
thoughts.  
I am wealthy.
You cant buy me out
of you.  
I learn to hate who you will grow into.
A miserable man missing all his front teeth
Talks to me.  
He knows Adversitys a touph word
if you havent looked it up
In the big red dictionary.
The meanings permanent

Like a bad tattoo.
Michael Parish Oct 2013
All his thoughts like a fatal flu.
He sat on cold metal
contemplation is borring, pal.
But! Nobody seems to remember
henry anymore.  
Just another score of names for
Mr.  Blacks long list.
Henrys dead again.
This time for good.
He aint comin around
anymore.  He found
his final departure.
All of life like a swollen bruise
never stopped shrinking.
And now go the dream songs
and his longbeards inquiry.
And we are left to ponder
in his life changing opus to
what genius was.
Next page