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Michael Bauer  May 2016
Butterfly
Michael Bauer May 2016
Oh, brave new world,
What the **** is this
Phenomenal metamorphosis?

I was cocooned by Kafka in Prague
Drank too much absinthe
Shocked by Tesla in Budapest
Shot by Serbian snipers in the rabbit hole
Saved by Jesus in Rome
Had a hell of a time with heathens on a party bus
Walked the rim of Vesuvius
Met a gypsy princess

Came home to mama's basement
Finished reading The Names by Don Delillo
Went back down to Florida
Where I lived with grandma in Spring Hill
Fell deep for a siren
An angel who saved my life
Had a nasty fever dream
Hell broke loose and I wrecked my car

Flew back to Los Angeles
Went to church and prayed
Stayed and worked for the family business
Explored Hubbard's cult, smoked *** and played

Too many sins to mention
I must confess the motherlode
No human here is much like God
How sad it is to know I'm in control

A butterfly pinned down in hell
You can reflect your face or soul
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2021
Crack open the vein
and let me back in
The ore of your vision
to mine from within

All treasured remembrance
lay fallow unclaimed
Awaiting my entrance
—forever proclaimed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2021)
Mark Kelley  Feb 2019
Paradise
Mark Kelley Feb 2019
“Paradise”

Still a long way to Paradise
still a hard line when you roll the dice
and
if you think you've found the road
that leads you to the Motherlode
all that I can say is
I don't know

Still a long day that's comin' down
still some jokers keep on runnin' 'round
tell us that they've found the way
tell us that we've got it made
all I can say is...........

Paradise
you're hiding somewhere in the dark
Paradise
can't you hear the soulful cries
Paradise
I'm still waiting to hold the spark
To light the fire in this life

Still some storm clouds a rollin' in
Yet still a chance to begin again
'cause when I see those cloudless skies
reflected in your endless eyes
I know
we'll find ourselves a different road

Paradise
you're hiding somewhere in our hearts
Paradise
can't you see our stressful strife
Paradise
I'm still waiting to shake your hand
and light this fire in my life
Francie Lynch Dec 2014
We dredge secrets,
That's the start,
Panning love from art.
Our words wash over
Like sluicing water,
To clean the buried heart.

Crack the hard rock
To reach motherlode;
Veins enrich us,
With jewels to share.

Float to the summit
On romantic trysts;
Reclaim me from
An open pit
With deep drill
Diamond bits.

These small gems
We call poems
Are sweet as gold
From honeycombs.
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2021
High minded but low brow,
and living the contradiction
of a greater truth
I’m caught between transcendence
and pontification
my pockets ladened
with a traitor’s silver
—in search of gold

(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2015
I'm a bit .....overwhelmed
And I had no way of knowing
I put my nickel down
And the PEERS started flowing

Suddenly
It seemed to me...that I had
Hit the motherlode

Every heart sent and every poem read
Is worth more than gold to me
As the honesty sparkles like diamonds
        With every word you've said

So if you would indulge me -my ramblings
While I WANT to stay awake this night
To answer all
Alas I've hit the wall

My brain and my eyelids are having
One heck of a fight

One thing I WILL not do
For love , money or fame
Is rush through the precious words
That you've given life to
Your babies

So in closing --my eyes closing--
Becoming one with the night
I want to say...that I have been welcomed
As a new kid(old man)
Onto this site(i love it here) onto your block

Much  like when I was a youngster
And the cool looking dude said
"Hey kid  You wanna play?"

"ME ?  SURE!  THANKS.)
And so I .......put my nickel down.     HELLO.
THANK YOU ELIOT YORK.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Stake
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Love, the heart bets,
if not without regrets,
will still prove, in the end,
worth the light we expend
mining the dark
for an exquisite heart.

Originally published by The Lyric

Keywords/Tags: love, heart, regret, regrets, stake, prospect, prospecting, mine, mining, motherlode, heart, exquisite, silver, gold, platinum
I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body electric of troubadour
now seated at his Macbook Pro
today February 20, 2021.

Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty one),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth, i.e. auld,
he whose decrepit body and
gnarled hands ice cold
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
coronavirus (COVID-19) motherlode
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold

grim reaper with scythe doth silently infold
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous sexagenarian
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose dead head lolled),
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder.

Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive

in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.

At long last... beastie boy attained nirvana
routing hellish existential crisis
courtesy earth, wind and fire
rendered null and void celibate journey
knight in shining armor
forever staind and tarnished
compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.

Herewith I forthwith take poetic license
linkedin to long line of mamas and the papas
whose music died
when passenger(s) violently perished
courtesy flaming inferno
analogous to L(ead) Z(eppelin) 129
christened Hindenburg.

Along similar blurred lines
foo fighter manned ****** temple pilot
Jefferson Airplane qua Starship
gracefully and slickly
deliberately maneuvered crash test dummy
immediately annihilated upon impact
smack dab into puddle of mudd,
yet lo and behold as a foreigner
and survivor yours truly eluded dire straits.

Oz suppose during whirlwind Kansas tour,
while snatching forty winks
in toto working out kinks,
I experienced revelation
regarding divine creator - Egypt me
never securing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
elusive weltanschauung as understanding,

the mysterious Sphinx,
yes essentially zilch joie de vivre
minus high jinks
aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks
my life and hard times
whereby vitriol pelted me
courtesy those rat finks.

Nihilistic zeitgeist
apocalyptic outlook sacrificed
no redemption no matter
how figuratively purposelessness sliced
unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.
(Subtitled: kudos beloved Amelie Beth)

Dilly gents gal lore spellbinding
metaphorically exhuming, ferreting, gleaning...
insightful handy dandy blues clues
unearthing treasure trove motherlode,
(and father lode) eye opening discover re:
visa vis our family of origin ancestry.

Painstaking efforts undertaken
courtesy thee i.e. eldest sister
(age difference between her and yours truly
thirteen months and twelve days)

ye (figuratively) dug deep
within plethora of genealogical database
mine insight piqued
following genetic revelations.

Raw bits (nuggets - comstock
rivalling wealth of Croesus
sowed countless generations ago)
enlightened this protoplasmic broth heir,
(a biological composite dada
elicited factoids ginning

humongous, illustrious, judicious...
awareness, that allows, enables provides...
knowledge linking me deoxynucleic acid
with forebears, whose good n plenti
inherited characteristics, desires
(under the elms), mannerisms,

predilections, quirks, urges,
yearnings, et cetera contra dance,
flickr, golong, kindle, shutterfly...
within mine contemplative,
intuitive, reflective...soul asylum
explaining, informing, liberating...

natural inquisitiveness percolating within,
not necessarily to excuse
deleterious, egregious, infamous...
(hyperbole for poetic impact)
behavior (mine), nonetheless
delighting, educating, fascinating...

assimilating, bridging, ***** ting
heritage invariably jumpstarting
dormant desire to acquire
increased comprehension whereby,
I experience surge to learn
greater familiarity affecting

heightened awareness, where
countless questions once incubated
regarding spiritual communion,
where lovely bones of mein kampf
feel linkedin with spirits
of thee dead ancestors.

Hence awesome accomplishment
piecing together (with assistance from relatives)
once puzzling enigma shrouding
past lives (not sainted)
comprising Harris family of origin.
unseen prophets providing perspicuity...,

Who commune with yours truly
within state of mind between
sleep and wakefulness
methinks disembodied spirits
infiltrate mine consciousness
while suspended within trance.

Meditation invokes light hypnosis
gently beckoning me to surrender self
fearlessness disappears relinquishing
clutched grip upon ethereal essence
without substance, I wonder
how emotions, ideas, longings...

can weigh so oppressively
as if such elusive thought processes
(however they become manifest
spontaneously crowdsourcing then...
just as quickly re: blink of eye
irretrievably lost in space (mind)

farther than outer limits of twilight zone
realizing futility to conjure them back
synonymous when this (hymn) mortal
male i.e. contemplative,
intuitive, ruminative...
nonetheless unable to recall revelatory

insight...,and/or when steeped deeply
within sleep (ah...such dynamic,
magnificent, vivid...dreams) more so
pronounced since relying to function
almost half dozen medications
(to mitigate predisposition wrought

courtesy of anxiety,
ocd, panic attacks..),
yet upon opening
(even without disruption)
access to such excellent
personal profundity...slightly biased

denied, analogous to
steel door shutting tight
with nary an iota remembered
to self interpret what subconscious
exposure means, a motherlode
rich with material

to write poetry or prose
tis quite bothersome
this sudden disappearance
evocations vanishes without a trace
aware no intense concentration
will jog abundant cerebral activity

forever out of reach
Argh...such evocative manifestations
serve as private cable channel
obvious drawback reruns
cannot be rebroadcast
aware (of course) nobody boot me

agog with exhilaration,
fascination, galvanization...
to plumb depths into world
I will never fathom
further than 20,000
leagues under the sea.
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2018
The breastfed future
  stripped motherlode

The past untethered
  —back on the road

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

— The End —