michael reid rubenstein: Favorites

Jun 2013 michael reid rubenstein

Forgive

Jun 2013 michael reid rubenstein

Christa Casper

Forgive

We're making this up as we go along,
afraid of what will happen
if we have a plan, that doesn't go as planned.

But right now i know,
i just want you with me,
i want you in my life,
on my lips,
your scent in my head and on my clothes.

And if wanting, no, needing that
ruins what we're doing right here,
right now,
then forgive me and
please, please stay.

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

WILD CAT

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

st64

WILD CAT

Good evening, Sir.
Please come inside.
May I take your jacket?

1.
You've spilled ****** beer on me!
Now, come clean up this freakin' mess you made.
Now you know *how it feels....

And don't you dare feign!

(Oh, brother! Why couldn't you just
Give her the **** words she wanted to hear, huh?)

2.
Hi, the music is still in the box
Sorry you are so sore.

Please ring the bell
Then you can have the smarter option.
Better take it
For, you can barely survive your own thoughts!

Oh, just never mind.

3.
WAS IN BATH.

Deciphering public signs in Bath.
Do you read?
Depends.

Yes (public signs)

Public signs?
How'd you read my mind?

Relax, only smelt the waft of your dirt
Waiting to colonise other minds.

Get out!

4.
I am that oil you're slipping in
And you won't get a grip on me!

Are you beyond suggestive, or plain crude?

Floating further away on a raft of confusion
Again.
When will it ever end?

5.
Rest peaceful, dear one.

Just remember:
When you go carving out those corners
You so badly want,
Take care not to let tears fall too heavy
When there's no-one to impress
On those deserted highways.

I love playing in the mountains.
Can you dig it?

Perhaps we can continue watering that fragile tree
Which bears such strange yet fabulous fruits...
Yes, let's do....reciprocate generosity.

I bear much to shelter your lost soul
As you step out ...
into the unknown.

No, nobody sees you, shimmering
Behind that waterfall.

6.
Mad about p(o)ets.
It's in my blood...irrevocably.

Come on, answer the thing!
Show me some of that brave.
So powerful, you are.

Give it to me.
The answer, of course!

Ooh, such a wild cat......won't let go.
Can't let it go.
Just can't.

Unlock the claw of judgment
And slide into a gentle cocoon of......

(Swipe!)

7.
Never did that before
But ..... always a first time for everything.

Pop
Pop

The WORLD being your classroom
Don't feel for these things; one nearly killed you.

I guess Champagne is also..... a city.

Onward, soldier!

8.
So, you think you're so clever?
Hard to tell, when you're SO on a roll.
I'm not around to REALLY find out, truth be told.
Don't force to be so forceful.

You crit and spit on Mr Leary
Oh, such dark and dreary vocals
Show some respect, fool!

Oh, getting a headache, the size of a rock
And that chicken voice is killing me!
Half an angel plays dusty games in the sand
Don't blow curses so.

9.
This is really absurd!
Heard half a word, a micro-syllable
Yet enough to gain timbre.

It dawns on me that there may be
A wicked breed of people
Always on the lookout
Who prey on other folk.

Coax them into amity
Allow them to .....even fall in love a little
Then extract the core
By ruthless blackmail.

Ludicrous beyond belief.
Yet, closer to truth!

What's this about, then?
Ok.
Don't wanna spoil the mystery.

10.
There's enough ***** here.
Let's drink!
It's a cold night.

And let's witness all the magic dragons
Waiting to....lift you off.

breezes

S T, 18 April 2013

WILD party.

You're invited, if you have an invite...lol

Go check your post!
Ha ha

Ps. Don't squirm too much, if no invite....
Just put your name down and wait till next year :)

And no need to shake your head and bemoan the fates, 'cos.....

Only twelve get in!

:)

(Ok, it'll dawn on you...some time)

Meantime, go stroke a cat! :)

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

8

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

Caroline Agan

8

When I was eight years old,
I overlooked a moment of compassion
And challenged the will of a fellow third grader
Compelled by my ignorance
She gave the most astute summary of my life ever uttered.

When I was eight years old,
A frizzy haired girl asked me an impudent question
A question of infinite importance:
How do you sleep?
How do you sleep at night, since you know yourself?

When I was eight years old, my arrogant mind brimmed with resentment
Reaffirming that I,
I, apart from my arrogance,
Was the best person I knew.

I was eight years old, and a prophet had spoken.

Eight years later,
I long to be swallowed by the sheets
Eyes stare mockingly at the dormant ceiling
Clinging to the handrails
As my train of thought
Careens off the tracks
Exploding in a cloud of terror and regret

Eight years later,
I long for the simple arrogance of my eight year old mind
I long to close my eyes
And remember nothing

Because today,
Today I am sixteen
And tomorrow I will be twenty-four
And the next day I shall be eighty

When I'm eighty,
I'll stare at the bleached walls
Succumbing to the force of the past
As it consumes the present.

When I turn eighty-eight,
I'll look to the end of my starched bed
And He shall smile
Saying, "Well done!"

I hope I lie, when I'm eighty-eight,
Because If I am honest
If I tell the truth
I do not know who he is
And I never have
I will be cast away
because, eighty years before,

When I was eight years old,
I was arrogant
But still innocent
eighty years from death
and eighty years from shame
I could have heeded those words
The words of the frizzy haired girl

When I was eight years old,
I could have decided
I could have had him sing me to sleep
I could have died entirely unlike myself.

Now that I'm sixteen,
I still do nothing.

It's meant to be yelled at an audience, not read.

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

What is Death?

Apr 2013 michael reid rubenstein

Claire Elizabeth

What is Death?

The pale lips are smashed together in a fake smile, the teeth not wanting to show in the little pod of the mouth, hiding like scared peas. It’s frightening.
The eyes crinkled just right so that it looks so plastered on that you can tell it is fake, the folds overlapping again and again in an unnatural way. I blink.
The cheeks covered in makeup, splashed on in spots, smoothed over in others, splatter painted to look realistic. It doesn't work.
The fingers resting oh so stiff on the stomach raised a bit so that they are hovering above the skin, like he doesn't want to touch the dead fabric. I wouldn't.
The suit, so neatly pressed that not a wrinkle shows, except for on the collar where nobody notices. But I do.
The silk lining of the box he is resting in is shiny and overly polished, like a cherry wood dining room table with an overload of Pledge. It hurts my eyes.
The bouquet of flowers is a bundle of Death’s heavy perfume disguised as a bunch of roses and daisies. The smell is disgusting.
The picture frames surrounding the box are shined like pairs of leather shoes, embedded with gems and memories that are long past. It makes me sad.
The stuffed animals in the corner gaze deadly at the group, mold and dust sapping the life out of their beady eyes. They make me shiver.
The chair I sit on is hard and stiff, the cushion starched to the breaking point, the crackly material hardly comfortable. I squirm.
The vent above me blows a gale of cold air and underlying currents, which whips up my hair in a flurry of brown. I pat my head.
The people around me clutch tissues in bony hands, the wadded up paper soaked through with tears and makeup. It looks gross.
So as I observe every detail of this morbid place, I close my eyes and breath deep. Mistake. The air is ripe with anger and sadness, misery and frustration. Musky lady perfume, sharp man perfume. My hands clench, unclench, furl, unfurl. My throat closes up then swallows that lump of matter lodged in my my esophagus. What is death? What is Heaven? What is God and Jesus and church? What is all of that if it ends up like this? Like a cancerous tumor, like a lump of mutated cells, like a painful death? It is forgiveness and freedom and newness.
With that I open my eyes again and cry.

Jun 2010 michael reid rubenstein

Come Back

Jun 2010 michael reid rubenstein

Bethany

Come Back

Sometime after midnight
A chilling sound fills the house
The noise of people yelling
In the distance sirens sound
From the bedroom I peek out
What’s that laying on the floor
Slowly I move closer
A cold feeling fills the air
Much to my horror
I see my dad laying there
His skin was grayish white
His eyes rolled back in his head
My mother yelled to my father
Please don’t leave comeback

In what seemed a flash
The furniture went flying
The room was filled with people
And my mother stood there crying
They did the chest compressions
They breathed into his lungs
But still he did not respond
Or come back to the ones he loved
The paddles were charged
One... two... three... clear
Again and again they tried
But it appeared to no avail

They put him on the gurney
And wheeled him out the door
Loaded him into the ambulance
But something was wrong
The siren didn’t sound
The ambulance didn’t move
What the hell was going on
They never did that before
My mother crying said to us kids
Go quick put on some clothes
We’re all going to the hospital
Wait we’ve never gone before

We quickly got into the car
Rushed behind the ambulance
We pulled into the hospital
Watched them rush the gurney in
We waited for what seemed forever
In the hospital waiting room
At last the doctor came out
But by his look we knew
He looked into my mother’s eyes
Said we did everything we could
But there was no bringing him back
I ‘m so sorry to all of you

They took us back to see him
So we could say goodbye
I approached the bed cautiously
With tears falling from my eyes
There were tubes in his mouth
And wires coming off his chest
His skin was white and cold
His lips were blue and cracked
I didn’t want to let him go
But they said that we must leave
I felt a part of me died that night
As they dragged me from the room
I wish I would have said goodnight
And how much that I loved you.

Life is unpredictable.....Always tell the people in your life how much you love them...for tomorrow may be to late....My dad died when I was 12 and I still regret not telling him that night.

— The End —