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Mike Essig May 2016
Today is made real
by changing yesterday.
Time is not a line,
but a field within which
we particles dance,
and dancing, alter all,
making the past future,
creating active history,
performing our lives
behind living masks.
Mike Essig Apr 2016
Let us sink and seek the miraculous,
steal from the clothesline of nostalgia.
The crushing weight of a pith helmet.
The quandary that every exit out opens in.
What is not remembered still exists;
the song never plucked rings still.
Cease stifling epistemological *******.
In the end, very few will comprehend.
Hard feet on a bare-wood floor. Then flush.
Iced sausages and cold blood for breakfast.
French toast boasts an aftertaste of paper.
Sign on cafe: Enter ye and be devoured.
It is always eat up or be eaten up.
What is the reference of it in that sentence.
Converse with horses in a dingy sushi bar.
Horoscopes promise passionate promiscuity.
Sometimes cigars can act like ******.
Two hours of smoke an extended ******.
Purchase a pack of Godzillas. Enjoy.
You are responsible for whatever you read.
Do not assault my ears for explanations.
Pluck pantaloons from that nostalgic rope.
Wear them well where you will wear them.
Feel the miraculous swell and understand.
Mike Essig Apr 2016
abhor circular time. clocks as monstrosities. dream eternity.
the immensity of everything. existence is elsewhere,
but life is here. in explosive silences, inexpressible delights,
truthful illusions, authentic falsehoods, slippery nights.
let sense and spirit sing a long song of your knowing heart.
exiled on earth in scornful times, become a bard of desire.
heart songs, earth songs, lust songs. amazingly human songs.
after all, flowers still spill perfume. drink it up.
study the mathematics of memory. the equations of living.
the trajectories of silence. the physics of poetry.
penetrate the disquieting muse. seek screeching squeals of joy.
all this has happened before. It will all happen again.
everything repeats in cycles, absolute and endless. return.
   dive into the infinity of the gyre.
   imbibe its cold, invigorating fire.
Mike Essig Apr 2016
Sorry to interrupt this program.

The print version of my new book, The Biology of Strangeness,is available today from Createspace and should be on Amazon in three days. Even if you aren't a poetry person, some of this will make you laugh. Currently available as an e-book on Amazon. Just search my name. Read for free if you have Amazon Prime. Don't forget to review. Please.

Now back to regularly scheduled poetry program.

Thanks.  Mike
Mike Essig Apr 2016
Over the course of 64 years (and still), I have encountered so many women (including my still lovely ex-wife) in person and in writing who struggle with their looks. It seems to be an eternal theme that crosses generations. So, I decided to write this humble piece in reply.
There are some who would say I can’t write about women’s feelings because I am a man. A patronizing old, white man. I note their objecions, but I disagree. I believe humanity always trumps gender.
We live in an artificial culture created and controlled by advertisers. Not only do they sell us stuff, they convince us that we need it. Women are perfect targets for them.
So they have created impossible standards for women to live up to. You must always look like you are 25, young and thin. They tell you this is the key to being desired, even loved. As it’s impossible to be young and thin forever, they just happen to have the products that will “help” you. They want your minds so they can profit by manipulating them. They do a great job of it.
So the key to loving your bodies and yourselves is to take back your minds. This is difficult. You are bombarded with a barrage of words and images that say you are not good enough. If only you were younger, thinner, shaped like Barbie, not greying, had longer legs, bigger *******, wore a size 2, you would be happy, and — of course — men would desire you. You would never be traded in for a younger, sleeker model. So many insecurities to exploit.
But consider the difference between beauty and Beauty. Beauty is human, individual and eternal; beauty is abstract, mass and reliant on current tastes.
I have known many women of all shapes, sizes and ages who were Beautiful. That Beauty was expressed from their hearts through their faces and eyes. They radiated it. It was not dependent on my or any other man’s approval. It just was. So I know this can be done.
Fashion changes so there will always be new things to sell. To the current ad masters, the Gibson girls of the late 19th century would now be called fat. Sell them a diet plan and gym membership. The angular loveliness of the Venus de Milo too cold and boyish. Sell her cosmetics and plastic surgery. Mona Lisa, a dumpy Italian girl. So many things to sell her.
And then there is that intense desire to please men that begins with daddy. I often hear its echo even in the strident voices of the most ardent feminists. The advertisers trade on that. That’s deep. That’s very hard to overcome. That’s both an individual and a cultural problem.
But many women never seem to consider that a great many men aren’t dumb enough to buy the 25 and thin forever image and don’t really demand to be constantly pleased. They might actually be looking for intelligence, heart, affection and respect instead of a perfect ***. Not all, often not the young, but many.
At some point, you have to say no and mean it. You are not your age, dress size, cup size or waist size. Those are just outward manifestations of the true you. If someone rejects you on the basis of such ephemeralities, you are better off without them. You have to take control of your soul. No one can give you that except yourself. You have to live with yourself just as men have to live with themselves. Again, humanity trumps gender.
I unabashedly love women. They have been one of the great delights of my life. I love the difficulties and the differences. What a woefully dreary world it would be if men and women were they same. So, it pains me to see so many women in so much pain.
You are, first of all, a person and that is worth insisting upon. Insist. Demand. Escape, if necessary. Be the only you you can ever truly be. Then you will feel pretty. And you will be as pretty as you feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dbshnvztGA

  ~mce
Mike Essig Apr 2016
Wovon man nicht reden kann, darüber muss man schweigen.*

Within the
scrambled syntax
of lust we seek
the certain
grammar of love.
Choose any noun
I’ll become
your adjective;
Choose any verb,
I’ll modify you.
Together we will
birth a single
perfect sentence:
complete, simple,
compound, complex,
wholly… us.

  ~mce
Mike Essig Apr 2016
Twenty or twenty-one. All volunteers. Barely women.
Straight from school in a thousand small towns.
Straight into the mud and blood and madness.
We dragged our dying to their open arms.
Twelve hours shifts; often more. Wreckage of violence.
Round eyes. Smiles that healed. Hearts that broke.
Girls treating boys. Telling the necessary lies.
You're OK. You're fine. You're going home.
Valor danced in their faces. Lips that spoke hope.
Old now or dead. But forever young and alive
in the memories of 150,000 wounded soldiers
they saved and sent back to the world.
   ~mce
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