The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls called the
Synagogue of Such roads
they are aligned on their knees
The teenager in the street
is a gypsy and does not return,
The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls called the
Synagogue of Such roads as
they are aligned on their knees,
The teenager in the street
is a gypsy & does not return,
especially looking so
passionate,   I have died like
something hot,

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls called
the synagogue of Such roads
are aligned w/ women; on his
knees on Gypsy Street,   Teen
does not return; I especially,
looking so passionate,
I have died for hot things;

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls called the
Synagogue of Such roads
are aligned with the knees
of Street teenage gypsies;
do not come back here
especially looking passionate
b/c He died of hot things

The images of the goddess;
At first the Gauls called
the synagogue of such
paths aligned on his knees
Street teenage gypsies,
do not come back especially
looking passionate like
He died burning in hot things

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls, the third
Such roads assembly
Various they are on their knees
The teenager is in stalls
and gypsy there is no return,

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls, the third
Such roads assembly
Various they are on their
knees; The teenager is in the stall
w/ the gypsy & there is no return,
especially looking like I am
like a dead passion,      but what
is hot is the image of the goddess;
First,      Gauls in the synagogue
of Satan & Such roads that are
varied; The women on their knees
& I am on Mourning Glory Street
& shall not return:     I am very
much,      it looks so passionate,
     What I am dead is warm;

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls, the third
Such road assemblies,
The varied knees on the
Street of teenage videos,
refused to accept it as an
authentic document is
set                      quote:
she looks especially
passionate b/c she is both
warm & dead

The images of the goddess;
First Gauls;         Such are the
synagogue's Way through
the college film   Street
teenage circles;  Most people
do not return Master's
passionate looks;           Hot &
burning dead;       The numbers
measure sundry;   The teenager
is in a stalls;    There is income
as the most beautiful gypsy
    is as dead as my passion;
    of the furious image of the
goddess,             Gallic in the
synagogue of Satan's way
as follows:
The women knees,   humbly
Glory to Beat Street;        he
shall not return by 1 a.m.; It
seems as much indignation;
What am 1 Dead hot;

The image of the goddess;
At first the Gauls,       the third
The number of the various
videos of the teenager charges
the streets;      who refuses
                  has gone to receive
Passion's proper document
                  b/c it's so hot Dead

The images of the goddess;
The Gauls, for the first time;
Such are the assembly
& the film crew sees its
way through college as a
Street performance group of
   teenage film makers that
Maecenas' office did not
return calls to;     Master
looking passionate; Hot &
burning Dead

He lost his daughter.
Your own. He has a son.
His son; France and
television; And they leave
their loves. Why do you
ask me? Board of Directors
Archery, I love you. OK.
It can happen. Leather,
black, pink,      | | | | | |
Like wine. Backup is the best.
A headteacher. Normal
fitness Like dust and mist
Republic of Korea. Due
to the holidays Unfortunately,
I do not need it. Do not be angry
and sinful. That's the answer.
This is not a bad thing. help. My
friend the Robot: There are so
many ||||
goals in a case. In the shadow
of love Fire: Then I cannot.
On girls' lips, This is the priority.
Body Show. dull answer,
daughter, I've never heard of ||||
For their mental performances,
Final anatomy here may be
a difference. World Finance Stock
1 Do you always think about it?
The girl is the daughter they lost;|
His head. A child is a boy
Far diligently for the young child;
French and television are
And so they left their wishes.
Why askest thou me; Directed state;
[A light Ronînokek opening
of blisters] 1 and I love you - and
this is not good; That this is so may
well be
in the skin, black, pink-thrombus;
| | |        As is clear from drinking;
It is best to back out of the head.
A standard for as dust and flies
running songs in Korea. About
feast day
unfortunately, I do not need to,
indeed, angry; the answer is that
That is not to say that the worst
aid. Friends are happy Robots;
then empty goals, Unfortunately,
in the shadow of the love light;
and undermine
To the heads of the fetal sample,
Namely, the pre-natal bûnê habit;
The body showed. the law;
which she answered, O daughters
of the price of did not listen ||||
to the baggage of their knowledge,
the last 1:1 The anatomical
difference involved in being [????]
to leave; And 1 shares in the world
continuously think about it?

This beautiful girl who lost her life at her head.
A boy's child obsessively reads young soccer
thinking in French, will you disappear, and a crew
your wellbeing She left the girl behind, leaving ||
holidays. what is Che what leaves Che? ||
State State State Public Editor of the East Catchester;
[Lightning rainbow associated with horizontal red]
I am not sure you have what you love and do -
on the head yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes ||    ||
yes, yes, skin, pain, pink ikon thromma:
| | |             This is a quotation of drinks;
Her hair is a woman at the back of the head.
Standard star; This clearly shows that the walls
are in the darkly city of corners and prostitutes;
chi, you do not need to go over the vehicle,
the answer is nothing; it's a dog's company;
It's a pity that that affects friends.
in the desert where the Dance is presented;
Where the shadow of love shines,
we are sorry for the cops.
Test exploded with an airplane
stripper Pre-natal error to birth
Of course it is ****;    Some indicate
the whole body.
Her daughter heard the legal barriers
chilled the hearing call, approx. 1, i
leave anatomical details; y
possibility of inclusion,
muscles in the world that stayed.
Did you consider?

This daughter of the girls, who had lost
his head. A child is a child of the child
who reads very carefully far be it from
the Gauls, and television are thus to the
left vacation. Why askest thou me;
Directed state; [Ronînokek light of the
opening of blisters] 1, and because
I love you - Yes yes yes yes yes so well
In the skin, black, pink-thrombus:
| | |        As is clear from drinking;
It is best for him
              On the back of the head.
              A standard for trot songs
      As dust flies on Korea day.
            chi on the day of the feast
day lest unfortunately,
there is no need to have ||
to go; the answer is that
the same the worst is to say
that with the support. friends,
Robots are happy, then it is,
from the proposed wilderness;
With love In the shadow
of the light Unfortunately, ||
he frustrates the And the
sample officials the offspring,
too, the habit of pre-namely
natalbûnê; The body showed.
The law, she says, Oh daughter
The price of the hearing
of the baggage;      It contains
information about the last 1 1
And leave the anatomy tangled
up shares in the world 1, and
remains, and I think about it?
|                                             |
The girl who had lost a daughter
His head.         A child is a child
of the child Far carefully
The Gauls,     and television are
thus the they left their vacation.
Why askest thou me;
Directed state; [Ronînokek light
opening of blisters] 1 and that
I love you - so that it is so good
that it is so well In the skin,
black, pink-thrombus;
| | | As is clear from the drinking;
It is best to him;      On the back
of the head. A standard for
running bootleg songs,   As dust
flies
on Korea. About festival to-day
had unsuccessfully,   I need to
get angry; the answer is that
The worst thing to say He had
help. his friends, the Robots
are happy,
then, so The proposed waste
With love in the shade Unfortunately
the light; and undermine sending a
Sample of the fetus to the rulers,
Even pre-habit namely natalbûnê;
The body showed. The law, she says,
Oh daughter price hearing no trains
information about the last 1: 1:
The anatomical leaves a tangle;
1 shares in the world and
continuously thinks about it? ||||||||||

(for Nietzche, who cowers behind art.)

The world calls the conquered ******
to remember that the sun every night yearns

to rise, to rise, to rise

when there is no guarantee, no promise, no sure thing.
Yet still it yearns

to rise, to rise, to rise.

The world called Canaanites ******
while they traded and toiled along the shores
of land promised to the aged heretic of Sumer,
whose wife could give only love.

The world called Hebrews ******
while they raised Pharoah tombs
Provided respite from the eastern chariots
Stubborn in refusal of the living gods
Drinking only Eloheim's bitter grape
That provides brief respite from his decrees
When delving deep in one's cups.

The world called Britons ******
When flogged Boudicea fought and fought and finally fell
To Roman spear and gladius
When Angles and Saxons raided then stayed
When Cromwell climbed the pale cliffs

The world called the Iberians, Gauls and Teutons ******
when Caesar crossed the Rubicon
Pax Romana for Citizens born
Land for the wealthy, voting rights too
Taxes and tithes from their toil.

The world called the Khoikhoi of South Africa ******
From the VOC to fatal Apartheid
Up rose a man
The heart of the land
A man named Nelson Mandela.

The world called the Viet Minh ******
from Can Vong to Dien Bien Phu
'till they slogged howitzers above
to reign Napoleonic terror below.
And to them it was just
The American War
After the world called them
Vietnamese.

The world calls the conquered ******
to remember that the sun every day yearns

to rise, to rise, to rise

When there is no guarantee, no promise, no sure thing
yet still it yearns

to rise, to rise, to rise

'though it never watches its own rising
undoing raiment of fading embers
swimming naked in the royal blue
bathing all with daily newborn naked glory
chasing the celestial tidal tease
that seems to wander where it please
reminding that all are born free
but can grow into ignorance
and be called ******.

Seek truths
that hold in unity;
that provide nourishment
beneath the lash
allowing one

to rise, to rise, to rise.

SONG-POEMS

These are poems that were written as songs, or as potential song lyrics, or that could easily become songs if someone were to set them to music (hint! hint!) …


Ave Maria
by Michael R. Burch

Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
listen to my earnest prayer.
Listen, O, and be beguiled.
Ave Maria.

Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
be Mother now to every child
beset by earth’s thorned briars wild.
Ave Maria.

Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
embrace us with your Love and Grace.
Let us look upon your Face.
Ave Maria.

Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
please attend to our earnest call—
When will Love be All in All?
Ave Maria.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch



Faithless Lover
by Michael R. Burch

Well I met you darlin’ on a night like this;
the stars were fallin’ as I stole a kiss.

And I fell in love that very night,
as the moon above blessed us with its light.

But the moon was false, and your heart was, too.
Oh, I never dreamed you would be untrue.

'Cause you're a faithless lover, with a heart of stone.
One day you'll discover yourself all alone.

Well, we found a preacher and we said some words.
I should have noticed yours were well-rehearsed.

When I looked above, I saw the pale moon frown;
the sky burst open; I began to drown.

'Cause you're a faithless lover, with a heart of stone.
One day you'll discover yourself all alone.

Now, since that day, how you've run around.
You’ve been with every boy in town.

Well, I learned my lesson, and I learned it well:
how one night aflame left me cold as hell,
till my heart grew hard in its icy shell.

Now, I'm a faithless lover with a heart of stone.
I seek faceless lovers who leave with the dawn.

Copyright © 1991 by Michael R. Burch



Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch

I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.

I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my face and changed its connotations.

And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque—
a metaphor myself. How could they know,
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque?

Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
or choose or name myself; I came to be
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
like Dickey’s Sheep Boy, Pan, or David Cruse:
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
My color was a song, a changing track.

Copyright © 2001 by Michael R. Burch

Published by Bewildering Stories and selected as one of four short poems for the Review of issues 885-895



Through the fields of solitude
by Hermann Allmers
set to music by Johannes Brahms
translation by David B. Gosselin with Michael R. Burch

Peacefully, I rest in the tall green grass
For a long time only gazing as I lie,
Caught in the endless hymn of crickets,
And encircled by a wonderful blue sky.

And the lovely white clouds floating across
The depths of the heavens are like silky lace;
I feel as though my soul has long since fled,
Softly drifting with them through eternal space.

This poem was set to music by the German composer Johannes Brahms in what has been called its “the most sublime incarnation.” A celebrated recording of the song was made in 1958 by the baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau with Jörg Demus accompanying him on the piano.



The Pain of Love
by Michael R. Burch

for T. M.

The pain of love is this:
the parting after the kiss;

the train steaming from the station
whistling abnegation;

every highways’ broken white bar
that vanishes under your car;

each hour and flower and friend
that cannot be saved in the end;

dear things of immeasurable cost ...
now all irretrievably lost.

Copyright © 2013 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts

Note: The title “The Pain of Love” was suggested by an interview with Little Richard, then eighty years old, in Rolling Stone. He said that someone should create a song called “The Pain of Love.” I've written the lyrics, now can someone provide the music?



Will There Be Starlight
by Michael R. Burch

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find flowers,
or will she find thorns
guarding the petals
of roses unborn?

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
seashells
and mussels
and albatross feathers?

And will she find treasure
or will she find pain
at the end of this rainbow
of moonlight on rain?

Copyright © 2001 by Michael R. Burch
Published by The Word (UK), The Chained Muse, Famous Poets and Poems, Grassroots Poetry, The HyperTexts, Inspirational Stories, Jenion, Starlight Archives, TALESetc, Writ in Water, Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring



Indestructible, for Johnny Cash
by Michael R. Burch

What is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash is gone,
black from his hair to his bootheels.

Can a man out-endure mountains’ stone
if his songs lift us closer to heaven?
Can the steel in his voice vibrate on
till his words are our manna and leaven?

Then sing, all you mountains of stone,
with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel.
Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home
through these weary dark ways all men travel.

For what is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash lives on—
black from his hair to his bootheels.

Copyright © 2006 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by Strong Verse



Flying
by Michael R. Burch


I shall rise
and try the ****** wings of thought
ten thousand times
before I fly ...

and then I'll sleep
and waste ten thousand nights
before I dream;
but when at last ...

I soar the distant heights of undreamt skies
where never hawks nor eagles dared to go,
as I laugh among the meteors flashing by
somewhere beyond the bluest earth-bound seas ...

if I'm not told
I’m just a man,
then I shall know
just what I am.

This is one of my very early poems, written around age 16-17. According to my notes, I may have revised the poem later, in 1978, but if so the changes were minor because the poem remains very close to the original.



Earthbound
by Michael R. Burch

Tashunka Witko, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a floating and crazily-dancing spirit horse through a storm as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.

Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.

Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.

I believe I wrote this poem as a college sophomore, age 19 or 20. I did not know about the vision and naming of Crazy Horse at the time. But when I learned about the vision that gave Crazy Horse his name, it seemed to explain my poem and I changed the second line from "and yet I would fly" to "and yet I now fly." I believe that is the only revision I ever made to this poem.

Copyright © 1978 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Momentum! Momentum!
by Michael R. Burch

for the neo-Cons

Crossing the Rubicon, we come!
Momentum! Momentum! Furious hooves!
The Gauls we have slaughtered, no man disapproves.
War’s hawks shrieking-strident, white doves stricken dumb.

Coo us no cooings of pale-breasted peace!
Momentum! Momentum! Imperious hooves!
The blood of barbarians brightens our greaves.
Pompey’s head in a basket? We slumber at ease.

****** us again, great Bellona, dark queen!
Momentum! Momentum! Curious hooves
Now pound out strange questions, but what can they mean
As the great stallions rear and their riders careen?

Originally published by Bewildering Stories

NOTE: Bellona was the Roman goddess of war. The name "Bellona" derives from the Latin word for "war" (bellum), and is linguistically related to the English word "belligerent" (literally, "war-waging"). In earlier times she was called Duellona, that name being derived from a more ancient word for "battle."



Just Yesterday
by Michael R. Burch

Yesterday
she went a-way
and now I don’t know what to sa-ay,
'cause I loved her more than life
just yesterday.

[Descending notes: DUH Duh duh]

Yesterday
she held me tight
and our love lit up the night,
but then our flame was not as bright,
just yesterday.

[Descending notes: DUH Duh duh]

Yesterday
she left me a-lone
and now I don’t know what I wa-ant ...
I just listen to a song
called “Yesterday” ...

[Descending notes: DUH Duh duh]

Yesterday, oh Yesterday,
Yesterday, oh Yesterday,
I loved her more than life
just yesterday.

[Descending notes: DUH Duh duh]

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Stay With Me Tonight
by Michael R. Burch


Stay with me tonight;
be gentle with me as the leaves are gentle
falling to the earth.
And whisper, O my love,
how that every bright thing, though scattered afar,
retains yet its worth.

Stay with me tonight;
be as a petal long-awaited blooming in my hand.
Lift your face to mine
and touch me with your lips
till I feel the warm benevolence of your breath’s
heady fragrance like wine.

That which we had
when pale and waning as the dying moon at dawn,
outshone the sun.
And so lead me back tonight
through bright waterfalls of light
to where we shine as one.

Copyright © 2019 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The Lyric



This Train
by Michael R. Burch

To be sung to the melody of "This Train is Bound For Glory" up-tempo.

This train is goin’ my way, this train.
This train is goin’ my way, this train.
This train is goin’ my way,
gonna take me back
to my baby,
This train is goin’ my way, this train.

This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’,
and my heart is cryin’,
cryin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.

This train is chuggin’ on down the tracks now.
This train is chuggin’ on down the tracks now.
This train’s chuggin’ down the tracks
and it’s gonna have to
take me back now.
This train is chuggin’ on down the tracks now.

This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’,
and my heart is dyin’,
dyin’.
This train is flyin’, flyin’, flyin’.

This train is goin’ my way, this train.
This train is goin’ my way, this train.
This train is goin’ my way,
gonna take me back
to my baby,
This train is goin’ my way, this train.

This train must run a little longer.
Oh, this train must run a little longer.
And although I did her wrong, her
love is only gettin’ stronger.
This train must run a little longer.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



The Vision of the Overseer’s Right Hand
by Michael R. Burch

“Dust to dust ...”

I stumbled, aghast,
into a valley of dust and bone
where all men become,
at last, the same color . . .

There a skeletal figure
groped through blonde sand
for a rigid right hand
lost long, long ago . . .

A hand now more white
than he had wielded before.
But he paused there, unsure,
for he could not tell

without the whip’s frenetic hiss
which savage white hand was his.

Copyright © 2001 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by Poetry Porch



When I Think of You, I Think of Love
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

When I think of you, I think of Love.
Oh, when I think of you, I think of Love
as magical as the moon and stars above.
And when I think of you, I think of Love.

When I think of you, I start to cry.
Yes, when I think of you, I start to cry.
And I think you know the reason why.
For when I think of you, I think of Love.

When I think of you, I start to smile.
Oh, when I think of you, I start to smile.
I think of you and, dreaming all the while,
when I think of you, I start to smile.

When I think of you, I have to laugh.
Yes, when I think of you, I have to laugh
because it’s certain: you’re my better half!
So when I think of you, I have to laugh.

I think of you as Eve, and at your feet
blooms everything that’s equally as sweet,
as magical as the moon and stars above.
And when I think of you, I think of Love.

I think of you with babies at your breast,
and does and fawns that come at your behest,
as magical as the moon and starts above.
And when I think of you, I think of Love.

I think of you and find myself at peace.
I feed the ducks, the turtles and the geese,
all as magical as the moon and stars above,
and when I think of you, I think of Love.

I think of you as Love, a Love that heals ...
the gentlest Dove that soars and flies and wheels
then looks down on the earth from high above.
And when I think of you, I think of Love.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Hill Down the Road
by Michael R. Burch

I imagine this song being sung to an upbeat tune like “Afternoon Delight” with an emphasis on the last word in each line. The song would come out as a sort of breathless rush — one long, run-on sentence.

There’s a hill down the road
where my babe and me would go
when the sun was sinking low
where the sparkling waters flow

and we’d sit there in the grass
and we’d watch the sunsets pass
and then I’d walk her home,
but we’d never walk too fast

and we’d sit there in the summer
when the sun was in the sky
and we’d talk of our tomorrows
and we’d watch the butterflies

and I loved her even then
although I was so young
and I’ll love her till the time
that my time on earth is done

I wrote this poem as an aspiring songwriter, around age 14. But alas, I was too shy to show my compositions to anyone!

Copyright © 1974 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark . . .
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?

Copyright © 1976 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly



Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.

And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.

Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.

Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.

I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976.

Copyright © 1976 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



How Long the Night
(Anonymous Middle English Lyric, circa early 13th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts
with the mild pheasants' song ...
but now I feel the northern wind's blast—
its severe weather strong.
Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!
And I, because of my momentous wrong
now grieve, mourn and fast.

Copyright © 2013 by Michael R. Burch
Published by Measure, Setu (India), Poet’s Corner, Glass Facets of Poetry, Better Than Starbucks, Chanticleer, Poetry Brevet and Deviant Art



Sappho’s Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

Hushed yet melodic, the hills and the valleys
sleep unaware of the nightingale's call
while the dew-laden lilies lie
listening,
glistening . . .
this is their night, the first night of fall.

Son, tonight, a woman awaits you;
she is more vibrant, more lovely than spring.
She'll meet you in moonlight,
soft and warm,
all alone . . .
then you'll know why the nightingale sings.

Just yesterday the stars were afire;
then how desire flashed through my veins!
But now I am older;
night has come,
I’m alone . . .
for you I will sing as the nightingale sings.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

Cherubic laugh; sly, impish grin;
Angelic face; wild chimp within.

It does not matter; sleep awhile
As soft mirth tickles forth a smile.

Gray moths will hum a lullaby
Of feathery wings, then you and I

Will wake together, by and by.

Life’s not long; those days are best
Spent snuggled to a loving breast.

The earth will wait; a sun-filled sky
Will bronze lean muscle, by and by.

Soon you will sing, and I will sigh,
But sleep here, now, for you and I

Know nothing but this lullaby.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Let me sing you a lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy (written from his mother’s perspective)

Oh, let me sing you a lullaby
of a love that shall come to you by and by.

Oh, let me sing you a lullaby
of a love that shall come to you by and by.

Oh, my dear son, how you’re growing up!
You’re taller than me, now I’m looking up!

You’re a long tall drink and I’m half a cup!
And so let me sing you this lullaby.

Oh, my sweet son, as I watch you grow,
there are so many things that I want you to know.

Most importantly this: that I love you so.
And so let me sing you this lullaby.

Soon a tender bud will ****** forth and grow
after the winter’s long ****** snow;

and because there are things that you have to know ...
Oh, let me sing you this lullaby.

Soon, in a green garden a new rose will bloom
and fill all the world with its wild perfume.

And though it’s hard for me, I must give it room.
And so let me sing you this lullaby.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



Swan Song
by Michael R. Burch

The breast you seek reserves all its compassion
for a child unborn. Soon meagerly she’ll ration
soft kisses and caresses—not for Him,
but you. Soon in the night, bright lights she’ll dim
and croon a soothing love hymn (not for you)
and vow to Him that she’ll always be true,
and never falter in her love. But now
she whispers falsehoods, meaning them, somehow,
still unable to foresee the fateful Wall
whose meaning’s clear: such words strange gods might scrawl
revealing what must come, stark-chiseled there:
Gaze on them, weep, ye mighty, and despair!
There’ll be no Jericho, no trumpet blast
imploding walls womb-strong; this song’s your last.

Copyright © 2006 by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The HyperTexts



This is my translation of one of my favorite Dimash Kudaibergen songs, the French song "S.O.S." ...

S.O.S.
by Michel Berger
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why do I live, why do I die?
Why do I laugh, why do I cry?

Voicing the S.O.S.
of an earthling in distress ...

I have never felt at home on the ground.

I'd rather be a bird;
this skin feels weird.

I'd like to see the world turned upside down.

It ever was more beautiful
seen from up above,
seen from up above.

I've always confused life with cartoons,
wishing to transform.

I feel something that draws me,
that draws me,
that draws me
UP!

In the great lotto of the universe
I didn't draw the right numbers.
I feel unwell in my own skin,
I don't want to be a machine
eating, working, sleeping.

Why do I live, why do I die?
Why do I laugh, why do I cry?

I feel I'm catching waves from another world.
I've never had both feet on the ground.
This skin feels weird.
I'd like to see the world turned upside down.
I'd rather be a bird.

Sleep, child, sleep ...



"Late Autumn" aka "Autumn Strong"
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
based on the version sung by Dimash Kudaibergen

Autumn ...

The feeling of late autumn ...

It feels like golden leaves falling
to those who are parting ...

A glass of wine
has stirred
so many emotions swirling in my mind ...

Such sad farewells ...

With the season's falling leaves,
so many sad farewells.

To see you so dispirited pains me more than I can say.

Holding your hands so tightly to my heart ...

... Remembering ...

I implore you to remember our unspoken vows ...

I dare bear this bitterness,
but not to see you broken-hearted!

All contentment vanishes like leaves in an autumn wind.

Meeting or parting, that's not up to me.
We can blame the wind for our destiny.

I do not fear my own despair
but your sorrow haunts me.

No one will know of our desolation.

Keywords/Tags: song, songs, songs of life, lyric, lyrics, music, rock, love, lover, lovers

As concerning therefore the eating of those things that are offered in sacrifice unto idols, we know that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is none other God but one. For though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or in earth, (as there be gods many, and lords many,) But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him.

                                          I Corinthians 8  [KJV]



Roll a Yule log on the fire
and let the mystery-cult inspire.
What Persians, Gauls, and Romans knew
could teach us all a thing or two
about midwinter celebrations
warming frigid Northern nations.

The Phrygian cap he used to wear,
holly entwined with evergreens
still linger in our current year
recalling dim pre-Christian scenes.
Some strange vestigial rites remain:
The specter of the Lydian Bishop.
No bull—but reindeer pull his train
spreading love, inspiring worship
mixed with Nordic pageantry,
barbaric sensuality,
and glimmers of Medieval night;
His season beckons, burning bright.
In England's prim polyphony
voices call across the centuries
no remnant of tauroctony
resurrecting pagan memories.
Drunks and rebels hum the tunes -
they lift the cup, they cast the runes
participating unawares
in Eleusinian affairs
like office parties, trees in houses:
timeless ritual that rouses
peace and love, goodwill to men.
(is it so diabolic then?)
Ghosts of Roman soldiers laugh:
the sun-god wears a funny hat.
His bull was just a golden calf
that grew up sacrificially fat.

Who cares when Christ was born, or where—
the point is: God appeared on earth
to set the record straight, lay bare
unwelcome truth: the second birth.
A new religion superseded
what had been before. It needed
rituals to syncretize
(no drastic sin, in heaven's eyes).
Why rail against it? What is wrong
with festive fare and holy song?
You think you can set back the clock?
destroy the sun or banish God?
Why agitate the Shepherd's flock;
in vain you would restrain His rod...
Since Christ is all in all why bother
searching out old gods to smother?
Who denies He rules the ages
mocks your idols, stumps the sages?

And so you are without excuse
for finding reasons to be mad -
committing holy child-abuse
and making mother Mary sad.
Why fight the vibe, why square the wheel?
No point in Scrooging up the deal.
Just kiss beneath God's mistletoe
and let the blessed season flow.

Leiak, omnipresent vague pneuma-dancing spirit, ductile pious water of epiphany and extraordinary example, lives on the water with his parasitic chin in the Vernarthian epigram; he is seen with his jocular back, breaking the lines of the swamps between muscles and silhouettes. Before the First station..., primitive of the three remaining nights before reaching the volcano of Patmos, its deluge begins. "

It bathes in the Davidian, Alexandrian, and Vernarthian rains. A little touched he is seen and insubordinate in the astragali that he has gained in his allegories, squeezing his chest, exactly for the good of a wonderful Hellenistic city statue of the Dyticá, where he imbibed Vernarth's putti, adhering to the hydric spheres that fell over the ceilings of the heavens that Eros himself and his crush, which struck the heart axis of Medea, totally extracted from Zefian's quiver, constricted in Borker's nanotechnological sub-mythology. From the comedy of Attica and in the superb speeches of endo-adverbial satire, he stigmatized verbal changes of creation, superimposing them on tops of excesses carried by heavy drops inside some amphorae brought from the eastern sunset, tracking happiness that arrived on the western shores, waiting letters of sigh and loneliness stretched out on the thalamus full of stretch marks. So Leiak expanded, where everyone made fun of him being a satyr by essence, but being unaware of it. Perhaps as a unitary gesture of shadows when going to dawn, before having the best light that they put in figures or pirouettes, without disgracing him as a satirical minority in the Epicurean doctrine, he is inquiring a happy life through the intelligent search of innate pleasures, the ataraxia and in apocalyptic friendships with Zefian, Borker, and Kaitelka.

Borker did not intend to heal himself of trifles at all; it will be a habit to venerate the revelations against polytheism, to then cling to an interiority that points to corroded execration from the root to the top of the fallen tree, with force blinded by the blindness of the Automaton, as far as it is concerned. By itself, of identical significance in the background; but with so-called change that he tends to totally eliminate the last trait of personification of the divine. From this dilemma, the values will be spikes in his hands, sheaves in both, and what he envisions of Hellenism will be the property of nano-technology, submitting under the lens of time dividers that have never been pieces of rest under the Duoverse-Universe., the lens will be your Iridium and the microbes that govern us will be the atomic force, to discover them. What atomistic world will there be between Borker and Leiak, if in this nanoworld; The nanometer is one-billionth of a meter ?, What will be enough to start being tiny in this great epic, which is called Vernarth intra-spaces and inter-Verthians of the universal macrocosm, which will now approach the microcosm of human consciousness, and the laboratory of Epicurean affabilities in Ataraxias decreasing the passionate intensity of the Hypothalamus, and the supra desires that can alter the mental-corporal balance, strengthening in misery that they reach said balance, and finally happiness, which is a meta-plane of Epicurean convergence that runs after the lost. Ataraxia is, therefore, tranquility, serenity, and imperturbability analogous to Vernarth's soul, reason and feelings in his dislocated world, and the hemispheres of himself that will be rationalized in their slightest longitudinal measure, in what fits and in the precarious!

Passionate laboratories were magnetized every time Leiak walked on its extension, and his hands went beyond his fingers, touching the Constellation of Aorion, to indicate that the longitudinal metric of man is measured beyond the fingers of the Duoverse, where it appears the Extra-Cosmos in the proximal of a nano-scale is a submultiple of the conferred means of the Saint John the Apostle pattern. The scientific notation will be the safeguard of the magisterial scientist exponentiated brain; 10.1 mm = 10-3., the kilometer or km, is the opposite equivalent in what submultiples of the meter are called a micrometer: 1 μm = 10-6 m. In this scale we find bacteria, which constitute the main group of microbes, hence the name of the submultiple between observation scales of the macro and micro world of this being of Holographic Lux called Leiak, having the composition between this nanoscale, and the opposite of 1 μm = 10-6 m. projected onto a bacterium, which in turn is ten times larger than a viral body. Sizing enough to balance the biosphere that will surround the Automaton Mandragoron.
Leiak's world is an outpatient virtual laboratory, as it is valid in colloquial language, adhering to measures that differ by the conception of transliteration or decimal mathematical positioning. The letters and lines have been interpreted by Leiak, they are Vernarthian Parapsychologies that oscillate gaps of mismatch of billionths of wasted knowledge, in displays of ghostly reigns and in no-man's-land. This nanoscale makes us nano-poetize themes of ultra interference of the Epicurian decree, of tranquility, serenity, and imperturbability, with the meagerness that we know of the enlightened after a thousand moons writing under the stars:
"Woman when you touched my life with the grace of your fingers, I could see how the kind nights closed my eyes, caressing the entire Universe." This is undoubtedly Epicurean Nano Poetry, but the Author is Tagore "

The exponential oscillates in the parameter of the outstanding Astronomer of the divine verb and poetic thinking, in the most intimate and dynamic Hindu techno-language. Quantum mechanics here is the debit of the iconic remnant reached, by parameters not achieved below the average intelligence, providing lost data far from collecting and storing. Tagore's logic is nano-poetry, which balances billionths that are not achieved by occupying the Corporal Dytiká (poetic sunset) and the synchronic soul, rather the material simultaneity of the fifth element of will, emotional and objective desire, condensing into matter already conferred consciousness, in gaps in fit at all times, but linking it to her divinity as intelligence never before out of date; V.G. The Mashiach is always linked to the vertebral and communicational axon of the plasma nano-particles by grasping its infinite numinosity, making this scale it's one billionth, and being within the Eras that will be the largest average of the macrocosm, in the quantum itself of the Christian Era and in other Quantum worlds.

Strictly speaking, the molecules are angels without a will, but the dispensers are the consciousness of Leiak, which transfers hybrid consciousness, for purposes of regulating and shaping the ravings of intelligence and atheistic consciousness, and for purposes of the great remnant always present and active in the emergency. Spirituality of the Mashiach-revolutionized. The by-product will be Zefian's Tetra Sagita with its ergonomic tip, opening up doubts and tracing the future of a rewritten bible in the same character and fidelity, but with the omnipresent Mashiach of a Scientific Eucharist.

Leiak walked through minefields, and in some, he saw universes come out that exploded in livid colors, among them Vernarth, who had been recovering from malaria, and who helped him create a culture composed of a great artifice of immutability, for those who are close to his Greek spirit. Overwhelming those who lack the will, clarifying where the great art galleries of the world will be, not because of their current works but because of those they will have to exhibit? From the rushing philosophical delta, germs of dominance were trickling, distinguishing properties that did not germinate under his feet. Bread and water of the hundredfold fruit of all the lesser forces that resist on the thirty and nine with fever, more than the narrow borders to be discovered, in democracies that will prosper in the hands of kind tyrants, and not in the unitary Ecumene. Vernarth did not denationalize from his grass crops, he was Hetairoi more than all the commanders of Alexander the Great because his native country never sank next to him, he only prospered in centuries where he had to rise again silenced and prostrate oblivion.

The chaos of an absence accuses a majority of sadness that greets the Celtic Gauls for the axon of the anointed cosmos of the divine autarkic world. But not in seditious wars devoid of bread and water that does not support them, nor by papyrus did nets that do not contain them either, in the spiral retransform the land of all, as a plural work done here, by the Mandragoron Áullos Kósmos, intends. The male rectors will trust their works in the widespread Greek language, called koine (common). A language that writes has its own feet to write new divisions, and ordinal paragraphs to fulfill in proskínesis or obeisances in those who have golden knees or not! They will continue to make separate book stores or libraries for Filososfia or science sub-themes that will tackle the top of Profitis Ilias. For all large cities and nations, it will only be Leiak's legacy, of having large spaces for dialogues where no one can resist his man-made preaching, holographic rain forest, and times that not even in billionths will make him melt spaces of ignorance, diverge from the juxtaposed principle of unpopulated urban schools do not deserve.

Says Leiak: “Every time it is more intense to turn the dislocated nature of man, my literary idylls are at the end of everything with his genre works. Life and it's agitated think idyllic of removing the talus, which is not swayed in my chest by the Metelmi..., but by my breath of death! "

Right now,          plunder he repayeth,
in the eve of the ground corn thereon;
from his nature, He found out about
the city by hand region of the world
It is stupid; contemplating the move
ax; He felt the dishonor,     & by the
smoke, & the madness of the conversion
of the hides & cost teenage glory
stockings & abstract winds;          You
bring the mysteries of doctrine; Thick
meeting Mark dark for men;  Cut thin,
& the heat in the morning;         St. by
a goddess; companion; enough by
sweating; it passionate unseen sixth
light rain? Sometimes it happens
successfully ruses state law the first
hot days of the Jew Street;  Stand fast
in your labor,    & by Before the start
of elders;  The other half of the motion
picture;    Especially for the part of the
Gauls, sheath & master of propaganda;
Outside is very bright torches beach
mountain; Please exposed to fortune-telling
After spending the stomach girdle
read the book in the wear on the skin,
Certainly fated half of Asia mountains
and at Queen's Medical point; The voice
of the woman stayed eve bruised grain
& robbery the city and nature
found to be made a dunghill from
the side of the sphere of the countries
from the region It is stupid; Moves
contemplated Muses;    She sensed
the smoke of a fire,           an injury to one's
country, and the madness of the conversion
of the glory;   The cost teenage covert side;
The socks are the winds Secret
doctrine; Mark thick dark to meet men;
Cut thin,      & the heat in the morning;
St. by a goddess; sweating; The loving
enough; But he that is of the six
of your mind; unseen one morning,
light rain; Sometimes it happens
successfully ruses state law hot day
was cause pain,              Standing in the way
of the Jews:                Before the start of the
other elders;          The center of the motion
picture crew especially as part of its sheath;
the propaganda;   He was bright;
a torch in front of this mountain,
from the same fortune-telling on the
shore of a naked man in her wings,
protection to the body of the stomach
of course,     the skin from the scroll,
up to half of weird Asian mountains
it would be the place where the
Medical princess is a criminal

& also the love of women, the girl's wife, for the eyes of the Mother of the man is naked, he shall go out of the day, the night, the good of the red, black ***, the space of the forms of light, the head of the land of the poet with the dung of the dark, are the body's a year dead white, his pulse beats of America the thought of the age of make you **** it of gold, a piece of wood in place of Jesus snooch the feet of the things that left his name to a living ancient young the beauty of poetry is a place of the sun, the queen of the mind of the hard ******* war poets, finding a mate, he thought, the money, the future was a true report, he called the of the ******, hell make one hair and women, the stars of the whole day with the kids to the death of the baby, it is better to the air: for they knew the door of the blood of the blue sea, Igor ***** and the goddess of a great hand to live a drunken man is the city, want to come to the times of the moon & the Sacred the way a real human being ***** courage Greeks child inside the third son of a loose pink sky late in deep, open Torquemada wrote in an improper time he heard fire the hands of the wrong button in the middle opening film history holy song yes dream boy full constellation of truth English wife of Ivan the Father, the clothes feel the effort of sweet on a wild child drink and keep the skin really rock, cold paint edge women Barbie is really a small part was perfect kid wet stone six Russian state writing window again eat leaving deep this we heard the water company a walk dancing now french feet of the blind be the best, they were filled enough, but the lips of the soul runs the ****** of the arms of the years of friends one by fictitious revolution, brown, dreams, smoking eating they did not want to listen to the words of the yellow, the nature of the waited for the school, the area hosts on certain of the brain of the guys crashed him, and brought him to the origin of the, ****, how to speak English, he asked the club is married to the ability of the care of the secret of His stockings were the prophet, ***** that she was born one voice and turned a lot of park feeling bed-Christ is the highest man wearing alive *** w/out early language of ground breath sound understanding of simply talking face empty toes prostitutes looked sister claims sitting gods ground, knowing the roads more ghost felt the message knowledge dying **** and maintain dawn field gold computer the sacred as much as be broken: but the daughter of faith is devoid of the garden, is greater than the rich man the rain, hidden under its skin, it is written, Mary the mother of the form of know that in L the wall of the ****, standing on burning for ever, strippers of heaven, the invisible things act of slaying him a prey to mom's a town of the unknown to the call of you might think that movement has its species soccer artillery and crack of the robot the hot fat things full of crazy, seeing the move of the Christian with a kiss worthy of the hairy born letter to lean away from the walls glow smoke of Satan b/c friend angels wilderness fingers and the palm remember loved Maecenas wind shadows to change the fate of torture Muse sultry daughter Bettie scroll held in honor of the arrival of fires buried fell Glory teeth lived bottoms kisses Mary sitting pregnant running bra ladies Alchemy fall to a lover stripper Einstein's watch would end fears Queen medical public glass ** side of the tree body angle of the night to tell my dreams initially leaves talk to you dog Angels of Bob propaganda is meat & love and a girl married my mother he has lost the day of the night is good, red, black *** space of light & the leader of the poet with the dung in the dark, the body's a year were white Heart pulse of Americans report the behavior of this age to do the milk of the son, were of gold, & the piece of wood in place of the Jesus snooch his feet, which left his name to the living ancient young the form of a fictional place of the sun to the queen of the mind of a hard sister had been defiled by war poets, finding a female, he hath taken the money, the future of the truth, he called the ****** of hell to make one hair, & the stars, all the day long the kids to the death of the baby, rather than the air, knew the door with the blue Mediterranean goddess Igor ***** in hand drunk live in the city you want to come up to the time of the moon & the sacred way, but ma n being mean to the Greeks of the child inside the third son of loose pink sky high, open Torquemada wrote in a at another time the fire, the hands of the wrong button & heard a lot of the history of the holy in the midst of the opening of the spokes, with yeh the dream of the young men, full of the star of the truth, English wife of Marcus the Father, & the garments to feel an effort, & sweet for the beasts of the lad a drink, & keep the skin of the subject with the real stone, & cold to paint the mouth of the woman, Barbie is really small on the side of it would be perfect a kid in pieces, wet the stone of the six Russian the state of the things write I unto the window a second time to eat, leaving us the bottomless pit, on hearing this, the water, the pain of clinical dancing now, the Gauls, the feet of the blind be the best, they were filled enough, but the lips of the soul of such a ****** in arms the year, his friends in the revolution, brown, dreams, smoking wont to eat, however, would not listen to the words of the in the yellow, and the nature of the waited for the school, in the threshing-floor of hosts, & for the sake of a scientific brain of the guys crashed down upon him, & brought him to the origin from, ****, rather than to the English they speak, he asked the club has in the marriage, she has been taken to the capacity & the charge is to keep the secret in regard of socks are a prophet, ***** that she had been born with one mouth & he put up a lot of park feeling of bed-Christ is the greatest man wearing *** lives w/out morning, the language of the spirit of the land sound understanding of the, strictly speaking, an empty vision as the toes of the prostitutes he had seen the sister claims upon the abode of gods in place of and knowing the roads more does the Spirit had become aware of the word of knowledge was dying, **** and the same light field with gold, football in the sacred as much as broken to pieces, daughter! Your faith apart from of the garden, there is a greater than he that is the rain, which lies hidden in the skin, so it is taken to form learn a wall & stuff standing on a burning and always, strippers air and invisible to **** meet all of the letters depends on the walls smoke of Satan 'cuz friend angels desert palm remember loved Maecenas wind shadows change his luck guns banana sultry the glory of the daughter of Bettie scroll to the teeth, is fallen, he lived buried the extremes of the fire of his kisses on the ambiguity of the arrival of Mary, sitting over the course of a stomacher, pregnant ladies are alchemy, the fear of the collapse of the queen of medicine would be no limit to the lover is a stripper the state, the eve of the mirror of Einstein, he's part of the leaves of the tree of dreams at the beginning of the body to discuss the angle of the night to say, O you, the dog, the angels of the augur of the king's meat, Bob

When ancients in our eyes waged war in green Gaul,
He fought for new wealth and nobleman's glory,
He rose from mud where slave-spears lay shattered,
And raised the good name of his house from disgrace.
Binding giants in a favorable pact,
The consulship could well be attained,
But men of the day could not perceive greatness,
And barred him from beloved Rome.
So he rode out and vanquished the untamed Gauls,
Who once had brought Rome to its fearful knees,
Winning victory after victory in forests of the north,
Splitting oaks in the east, where his sword marred its sheen.
When fleets by Britain's cliffs hemmed the horizon,
When the seat of the Sphinx was polished marble-gold,
There were ten thousand Greeks could tell of his exploits,
And ten hundred Egyptians who claimed to know him.
With rude steel, he mastered the Mediterranean,
And over the Earth he brandished civilization.
In later years, his heirs spread like a stain upon the land;
The seas too were dyed with Roman sails,
And every coin minted bore the face of Caesar.
Even now, though the empire is hardened like iron,
And purple luxury replaces the crimson of war,
There are still a few among us who remember
Our young and mighty red-feathered conqueror.

The light; And undermines the sending of embryonic samples to the managers, even pre-practice, ie natalbnnê; The body appeared.
The law, he said, from the price of a woman,
does not train information about the last 1: 1:
the anatomy leaves a thicket; 1 share in the
world and constantly think about it? ||||||||||
He lost his daughter. He has a son. these are
all over France television, and they leave their love.
Why do you ask me? The board of bow and arrow,
I love you. OK. It can happen. Lledr, du, pinc,
| | | | | | Like wine. Backup is best. Master Teacher.
Normal fitness is dust to the left of the Republic of Korea.
Due to the holidays Unfortunately, I don't need it.
Do not be angry and sinful. That's the answer.
This is not a bad thing. help. My friend the Robot:
There are so many targets in this case. In the Shadow of Love's Fire: So I can't. On the lips of women, this is the priority.
Body mirror. Interesting answer, girl, I've never heard of
|||| For their mental performances, the latest anatomy
can be different. Finance World Finance 1
Do you always think about it?
He lost his daughter.
Yourself. He has a son.
these are in France, all over
the television; And they leave
Their love. Why do you
ask me? Board of Directors
Archery, I love you. OK.
It can happen. skin,
Two, pink, | | | | |
Like wine. Backup is best.
Master Teacher. shared
Like dust and mist
Republic of Korea. Because
For the holiday Unfortunately,
I do not need it. don't be angry;
disinfect. That's the answer.
That is not a bad thing. help,
My dear Robot's friend: It's so
Much |||| Goals in the shadow case
Out of love of fire: So I cannot.
On the lips of women, this is the priority.
Body mirror. Boring solution,
Daughter I've never heard of ||||
About their mental performances,
Perhaps this is the final anatomy
the difference. World Treasure Finance
1 Do you always think about it?
The girl is the lost girl;|
His head is a child
Very far from the young boy;
French television
And so they leave at their will.
Why ask me; The State designated;
He opened Roniuk's light
From blisters] 1 and I love you - a
it's not good; It is possible;
Good Skin, black, pink and thrombus;
| | | As it is clear from the drink;
You'd better leave your head.
Standard as dust and insects
Running songs in korea.
About us
Holiday
Unfortunately, I do not have to,
In fact, angry; That's the answer
That does not mean the worst
help. Happy happy friends;
Then empty goals, unfortunately,
In the shadow of love's light;
appeal For sample embryo heads,
In fact, practically before birth
The body appeared to the law;
Who answered her, ladies
Of the price he did not hear ||||
To their knowledge baggage,
The last 1: 1 anatomy is
different and is related to being [????]
leave; And 1 shares in the world.
Any time to think about it?

The beautiful girl who lost her life was in her head.
A boy's child reads obsessively about youth football
Thinks in French, disappears, and leaves a staff;
Your welfare - The girl left behind, leaving
Holidays. What is cha that allows cha? |
Editor of the State State of the State
of East Kachster State; [Lightning related to horizontal red]
I'm not sure you have what you love and do -
Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes, yes, skin, pain, pink ikon throma:
| | | This is a quote of drinks; Her hair is a woman in the back of her head.
Regular star; It clearly shows that the walls In the dark city of corners and prostitutes; You do not have to go over the vehicle, The answer is nothing; It's gum. It's a shame that affects friends.
In the desert where the dance is performed;
Where the shadow of love shines,
Sorry for the copies. The test exploded on the plane
Stripper's error before birth to be born;
Of course he raises; Some point to this
all the body.   Her daughter heard the legal barriers
To hear the phone call, sort of. 1, i
Leaving anatomical details; [y]
The possibility of inclusion,
The muscles of the world that remained.
Have you thought?
This girl's daughter, who was lost;
The child's head is the boy's child
Who reads with great care.
The Gauls and the television
Why ask me; The State designated; [Light Ronnnokek y
Open blisters] 1, and because of it I like it-yes, yes, yes, yes,
so good Inside the skin, black, pink and thrombosis:
| | | As it is clear from the drink; It was better for him
In the back of the head. Normal for songs
Like flying dust on Korea Day.
You're here on holiday Unfortunately
it's a sad day, You don't have to be here. go;
That's the answer! The same thing is the worst to say.
With support. Friends, Robots are happy, so this,
Of the proposed desert; Love in the shade.
Unfortunately, It's frustrating.
...