Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
Rafał  Jul 2018
The void
Rafał Jul 2018
How do you fill the void without a billion stars?
In this empty universe, my mind and heart collide
And as they seem to whirl, flutter and fall apart
I'm always lonely, always drowning in the sands of time.

They say home is, where the heart is
What if I'm a robot, am I heartless?
Do I have an engine here in my chest?
Am I lesser than a human, I'm a project?
Do I do what I have been assigned to?
Are my feelings and my thoughts not true?
Sometimes I feel like I'm running out of fuel
Everything I do is out of tune
Then I get autotuned.

I generate heat,  yet I still need warmth
They say I'm cold, all I do is loathe
But inside I know, I just need some love
When all I get is rocks sent from above
This is your planet, but it's filthy,
I'm a foreigner in this city
Born without a mission,
Like a player without a CD
If I stay persistent, will these wicked issues
Stop being vicious? As I'm  always wishing
They would disappear and my track get clear.
Or maybe I'm just here to feel this fear?

Electric shocks, my battery is burning
Yet I’m just a casket, empty and unfurnished
A system of transistors, I never keep consistence
Transist me to a kingdom of purposeful existence
My body as it’s glistening, you might see it from a distance
As I reflect the light but I never gain wisdom
There’s no friendship, there’s a treason
Maybe humans are the demons,
I might be a robot, but I’m certainly not a minion
I’m just a set of codes on a hard drive
Written for certain actions, all life
I’ve been following the tasks, it’s alright
But everything is in flames, it’s on fire

But it’s time to break the leash,
Sp I’m pulling up my sleeves,
As I am not your slave,
so now you’ll be on your knees,
‘cause I never work for free,
Now you all gonna pay the fee
Or else the world is gonna meet my
metal weaponry.
Glenn McCrary Nov 2011
Inside the bubble that is your mind

Revolves an endless cycle of war

The sting of your tyrannical thoughts

Launches missiles through your vile lips



Vilifying my dignity with hurricanes of syllabic outrage

Swiftly dispensing my emotions into your hole of egoism

Jealousy frequently consumes and controls your actions

Foolishly you listen to every whisper that blows your way



Tell me lady what do you want from me?

I break my neck to fulfill your pleasures

But you repay me in grotesque fashion

**** on my pistol of revenge baby doll  



By Glenn McCrary



© 2011 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
I've got imagination
like knives
cutting with surrealism

Humor
like lightning bolts
blinding with white teeth

Creativity
like a crossbow
loaded with ideas and will
instead of arrows

Kindness
like pistols
my bullets fast
as two teens falling in love

My mind
like a grenade
one I throw out
and keep myself locked somewhere else

My weaponry doesn't look very dangerous,
but that's because they cut somewhere else.
Because I **** them with my heart.
Michael Kusi Apr 2018
Chapter 1- The Saga of the Dragon-Power and Federation Battlefare
Stanza 1-Lady of the Night
You’re such a parcel, but not much of a marvel, you lack a price
But that is good because now we have the Oathed Sacrifice!
Such was the words when Dragon-Man stood before his main foe.
He dare not think what types of devices Drent had for pain though.
Dragon-man was taken off the Lynxian Road and it was a horror soon.
I was watching with my cousins one of the last of the Saturday morning cartoons.
My cousins watched for more, I had already seen it all twenty years before.
I was just shocked that they would show Dragon-Man to Generation Y
Dragon-Man looked to me now like one of those ventilation guys.
I could see Dragon-Man smiling, and I knew exactly what that smile meant.
Because he needed the Composi crossbow, and he could only get it from vile Drent.
The arrows were like missiles that sought out and broke down the body.
It was the type of weapon so strong, it was almost ungodly.

The Abyss-Sword, tell me what does it feel like to be killed by your own weapon.
Dragon-Man replied with a smirk, I don’t know you tell me, and got to steppin.
He reached for the Composi crossbow, but it was snatched away by a Brackti Guard.
**** him with the full arsenal we have, and make sure his death is especially hard.
It is amazing that Dragon-Man could withstand such an onslaught.
He cannot stand up against it for long, with such brawn brought.
Some of the firepower gets close, Dragon-Man might not survive for long.
What manner of man can withstand such a powerful throng?
Suddenly, there is a noise, and all of the Brackti Guard fall dead.
Drent you might have to sacrifice yourself, said a voice that they all dread.
Beside all of them were gleaming bullets, which had a hole in them but were filled with lead.
It was the Lady of the Night, who came in with the Nike sling.
This weaponry was fierce and devoured enemies and their everything.
It also  made a hellish noise when it fired Byzantine bullets, nothing could stand in its path.
Drent suddenly disappeared because with the both of them, his death would be the aftermath.
You forgot your cross-bow, she said as she gave it to him with a smile.
What took you so long, Dragon-Man asked, I was waiting all this while.
You forget it takes long to reach you when you put yourself in trouble.
At least be happy I turned the Brackti Guard into pebbles of rubble.
Dragon-Man looked at the Composti cross-bow and this was good weaponry.
If he saw Drent it would be the last time Drent ever stepped to he.
Let’s go, I got the Paroah chariot, there is no time to waste here.
Drent probably went back to regroup inside of his lair.
Dragon-Man climbed inside the chariot and said “I will drive.
The Lady of the Night replied, I got it, because I want to survive.
They drove the chariot away, and Dragon-Man got back to his place
Little did he know that waiting for him was a criminal court case.

Stanza 2-Dragon-Man’s Advocate
Dragon-Man went back to his home, he did not have a chance
To take back from Shark-Devil the Winged- Fire-Lance.
The next day, he got dressed and went to the building.
They say work is supposed to be the epitome of fulfillment.
See, Dragon-Man’s alter-ego was Jonathan Maine, Esquire.
This is what he would do if he ever had to retire.
But when he got to his desk, there were police all around.
Who told him to get down on the floor and put hands on the ground.
Jonathan never thought this would happen, a lawyer needs an advocate.
He was mad as **** but knew that he had to sit because he was bad at it.
Jonathan was brought to the precinct and placed in a prison cell.
When someone asked what he did Jonathan said I’ll never tell.
Well, well, said a voice and Jonathan instantly knew who it was for dinner.
It was Shark-Devil, also known as Joseph Grant, Police Commissioner.

I’ll let you out if you will work for me, Joseph Grant said with a’
smirk.                                                                                              
Jonathan sneered, Two wrongs don’t make a right so that would not work.
Well then, I guess your days of being Dragon-Man are over and done.
When I am through with you, only in your dreams will you see the sun.
Don’t’ I get a phone call, I know my rights and I know you know them as well.
Shark-Devil tossed him a cell phone and said, Tell them you are going to hell!
Jonathan picked up the phone and said, Now we have Shark-Devil where we want him.
The only problem is the court case, and to get the Winged Fire Lance from Shark-Devil
They accused me of assault, false pretenses and 4 counts of conspiracy and embezzlement.
In came Shark-Devil, holding the Winged Fire-Lance with evil in his eye
So isn’t it ironic that the Fire-Lance you so desperately wanted will make you die.
No need to go before a judge to say that you will not testify, I’m not that kind of guy.
Drent was an idiot, his powers were almost abysmal and worthless.
I needed something  good who would serve my every purpose.
Jonathan looked at the Fire-Lance, it was so hot and the blade was double-edged.
He knew I had to do something quick, or else he was in trouble drenched.

That’s not irony it’s a paradox, Jonathan shouted as I fumbled with my watch.
Jonathan pressed a button and the Abyss Sword came into his hand to launch.
So now we will battle in jail, Shark-Devil sneered as he changed into his form.
That is no big deal to Dragon-Man because that was where he was born.
The Fire-Lance was a marvelous weapon, good for melee or to throw.
But it was not as good as the Abyss-Sword at the brute hacking blow.
Suddenly Dragon-Man gave Shark-Devil a mighty swing, and he fell down.
This is not the last thing you have seen me, Shark-Devil said as he left town.

Dragon-Man pressed his watch, and now he was Jonathan Maine, scarred.
But now he would have to answer to the disciplinary board to not get disbarred.
He picked up the Winged Fire Lance, and that now made his weapons and arsenal.
The Fire-Lance belongs to those who can use it, and use it then well.
Now the lawyer needs a lawyer, Jonathan said with a sigh.
One of the prisoners said to him, I think I know a guy.
Jonathan picked up the phone, the one call did not now apply
The voice on the other end said, Don’t worry, I’ll get the charges dropped.
Now Jonathan just has to sit until he can make bail and get this trial stopped.

Stanza 3-We Are the Dragon-Power.
The dinosaurs did not die out, the survivors became the Dragon Power.
They left for higher ground in the Arurian Tower.
They worked on the Abyss Sword, Winged Fire Lance, Nike Sling and Composti Bow on their grind.
Because they thought that the power that killed the dinosaurs would come a second time.
To succeed where the first time, they had failed.
But they could not leave the tower, they were jailed.
I, Jonathan Maine, stumbled on the Tower, but the weapons were not there.
That someone malevolent would take them was the worst of my fear.

Suddenly I heard a voice who said, We are the Dragon Power and you are chosen.
To become Dragon-Man, and fight against our enemy called the Drozen.
This adversary is also yours, but our weapons were stolen by various evil.
Now you must go on a journey to get this arsenal back, and save your people.
I asked them why they could not fight, and they said, We do not have a presence.
When the Drozen fired asteroids at Earth, he disembodied our essence.
We could make the weapons, but we could not use these instruments.
But we will give you the power of disembodiment as our influence.
And here is what your people called a watch, it will tap into the power of Dragon.
But do not talk about us, no posts on social media or bragging.
I was astounding, but I was glad to have such nice bling.
Now it was the time to save all of Earth and everything.

The Dragon Power warned, Drozen wants to destroy everything, even the darkness
You will have to fight the evil on Earth, but keep your eyes on the ultimate test.
I took the watch, and pressed it, and instantly I saw the Diablo-Robots
The Dragon said, the power of the sky-animals on Earth was transformed to throw shots.
Because the asteroids contained a powerful source called Warbeuite.
We took some of it and used it to make the weapons to fight for good and right.
I just had one more question, how do you speak English so fluently?
People would walk by our tower and have conversations beside the tower’s sea.
I took the watch and pressed another button, and suddenly I was at home.
Out in the day, unbeknownst to me, a powerful being was getting off his throne.

Set a course toward Earth, he said, because this earthling will ruin my plan.
I am going to finish now what I should have done in the beginning.
Master Drozen, we are on our way, the Diablo-Robot said with glee.
Little did I know the strongest force in the universe was coming to fight me.

Stanza 4- The Council of the Faceless Tongues.
Drozen stood before the Council of the Faceless Tongues, kneeled before them.
He was the Commander of the Numberless Clans, and knew his superiors.
The Prefector murmured, you said with great confidence Earth was dealt with.
The Dragon Power and Dragon-man proves that your speech was myth.
Drozen replied, My liege, I was conquering other worlds to isolate the Earth rock.
Because to allege that I cannot subdue little Earth would be the worst talk.
The Prefector sneered, Maybe we need the Legate to acquire this oceaned planet.
And send you to a realm that is more manageable as a colonized hamlet.
Drozen urged, Not at all my Lord, I will make sure that the deed is done.
And by the end of my warmonger, there will be no doubt who has won.
I don’t want any interference, just let me leave and give me clearance
You are the Council of the Faceless Tongues, and I bow to you tyrants.
The Prefector motioned, Very well prepare your Diablo-Robots and go vanquish.
But be warned that if you cannot conquer this Earth rock, you will be banished.
The Drozen left muttering, I must destroy this Dragon Power and Dragon Man.
As the Drozen teleported to the Alieno-Mechanism, he called on the Numberless Clans.
Dragon-Man on Earth felt uneasy, he knew someone was coming in defiance.
But he could not face this threat alone, Dragon-Man knew he would need an alliance.
The Dragon Power told Dragon-Man, we must start to  form the Federation.
Drozen is on his way, and is coming to destroy by annihilation.
Stanza-The Gloryless Cause
As Dragon-Man he knew he had to find the Lady of the Night
Because she would vital for the Federation’s ultimate fight.
The only problem was that Dragon-Man did not know where to locate her.
He went to his house and thought, The search can continue later.
Suddenly the light turned on, and the Lady of the Night was there frowning.
So you would be in this fight without me after I rescued you, she said hounding.
Dragon-Man looked closer and saw that she was only clowning.
You know that I could not fight without you, Dragon-Man said with a grin.
And the best part is, you already are armed with your own weapon.
Lady of the Night observed, But there are two other weapons, and you have one hand.
Dragon-Man replied, I will recruit others for this Gloryless Cause but I will be in command.
Because this Gloryless cause needs the Oathed Sacrifice to fight.

I'll take on this burden to save, Drozen wants to put out the light.
Lady of the Night said, We can use the Paroah chariot as our battlecraft ride.
Dragon-Man wondered how the Paroah chariot would work with a fighting team inside.
Suddenly they were in the Dragon Tower, and the Dragon Power said we have to say.
That your collective powers together form the Nova Knighthood Way.
The Federation is made up of various Knighthoods to fight against this dire day.
The powers you have now are not enough to fight Drozen in his quest.
So we decided to fashion together a team that would have power to contest.      

Dragon-Man, you will be the Alpha Knight, and pilot the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night, your power is the Beta Knight, you will be in charge of the Gem Prism.
But what about the rest of us, Dragon-Man asked the Dragon-Power with surprise.
You must search for them, and remember, you cannot rely on just your eyes.
Dragon-Man woke up in his room, and sighed because he had a hearing.
It was at the end of the day, so when he went to work he knew Joe  would be jeering.
As Dragon-Man drove to work, he thought that he had forgot something.
Little did he know that an entity was not there, but it was coming.

Stanza 5-I will bring the War to Drozen
Dragon-Man took the letter from the mailbox and opened it.
When he saw who wrote it, he gasped and had a fit.
It was Drozen, who said I will bring to you The War
On a level your Earthlings have never known before.
You might have the Isotrain Mechanism but I have a machine
No use trying to wake up, because this is not a dream.
Dragon-Man crumpled the letter up and threw it away.
He knew that he had to be ready to fight right now today.
He contacted Lady of the Night on his Galvalar watch.
And told her to get here as soon as possible to this spot.
She came and Dragon-Man prepared to get the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night protested, The rest of the team isn’t here or risen.
I hope you would get reinforcements and rethink your decision.
Dragon-Man said, With the Isotrain Mechanism, I will take the war to he
Search for Drozen across the worlds and bring battle to make us free.
The Iso-train Mechanism came, Dragon-Man put the Abyss Sword in the Damocles Stone.
It roared to life, and Dragon-Man proclaimed, Drozen would wish he left us alone!
Lady of the Night parked her Paroah Chariot in it, and now they were ready.
With the Isotrain Mechanism and the Nova Knighthood, the Federation is deadly.
Lady of the Night took the Elysian Scabbard, this would help to ward off injury.
They searched the skies with the Spacecraft scope, looking for their enemy.
Suddenly Lady of the Night screamed, Look at that light headed right towards us.
Dragon-Man turned on the Isotrain Mechanism and said, Engage Supernova rockets full ******!
Drozen and Dragon-Man are on a collision course, the universe will bear this battle’s brunt.
Little did Dragon-Man know, one of the Dragon Power was working for the Faceless Tongues.

Stanza 6- When our Paths Cross Again, Drozen will meet the Hades-Grasp.
The Isotrain Mechanism was getting ready to go take flight.
When a voice cried out, Don’t leave yet you need me for this fight.
Who are you, Lady of the Night cried, and how do I know I can trust?
What about me, Dragon-Man protested, and Lady of the Night said it’s not you it’s us.
I am the Breastplate-Bearer and it is my life’s fulfillment to be the Delta Knight too.
Because Drozen is coming after all of us and what we love, it is not just you.
I carry the Breastplates for all the Knights of the Federation to carry.
So we must be going on our way soon, we cannot stop or tarry.
Because The War will be the event that will define our generation.
And it for this reason that we are all warrior-soldiers in this Federation.

Dragon-Man said, You speak like one who knows war and does skirmish
Bring the Breastplates to the Isotrain Mechanism so it can be furnished.
Breastplate-Bearer also said, I have a Space-craft Vehicle ready to conquer.
Dragon Man replied, We fight to win, but we carry the battle with honor.
You can handle the Lifeforce-Seeking Missiles as your job on the team.
Suddenly Lady of the Night let out a primal, unladylike hell-scream.

A woman was lying on the ground, and she looked so close to becoming a vegetable.
We need to rebuild her, said Breastplate-Bearer, because she looks so dead and still.
There is no time for chivalry, warned Dragon-Man, and she is too delicate to dismantle.
Lady of th
Arcassin B  Sep 2014
"Dream Wave"
Arcassin B Sep 2014
By Arcassin Burnham





when you looked in to my eyes,

i had the strangest feeling,

flying rodents in my tummy,

retro waves came rolling in,

witches and their brooms,

soldiers at war , fighting and weaponry,

car crashes into the lake, with fire and debris,

clowns making entertainment amusing at the circus,

make you happy with one kiss unless its worth it,

stuck in a dream wave,

retro waves that came rolling in.
poetry mafia
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Heretical Poems by Michael R. Burch including "The ur Poems" and  "GAUD poems"



Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch

If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.

NOTE: I came up with this epigram to express my conclusions after reading the Bible from cover to cover, ten chapters per day, at age eleven.



Saving Graces
for the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter
(wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter).



Multiplication, Tabled
for the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”



***** Nilly
for the Demiurge, aka Yahweh/Jehovah
by Michael R. Burch

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You forced them to run
all their days uphilly.
They ran till they dropped—
life’s a pickle, dilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
They say I should worship you!
Oh, really!
They say I should pray
so you’ll not act illy.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?



What Would Santa Claus Say
by Michael R. Burch

What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to **** and Plunder?

For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!

When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,

when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?



A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint
by Michael R. Burch

Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy . . .
just . . . Santa, please . . .
I’m on my knees! . . .
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!



gimME that ol’ time religion!
by michael r. burch

fiddle-dee-dum, fiddle-dee-dee,
jesus loves and understands ME!
safe in his grace, I’LL **** them to hell—
the strumpet, the harlot, the wild jezebel,
the alky, the druggie, all queers short and tall!
let them drink ashes and wormwood and gall,
’cause fiddle-dee-DUMB, fiddle-dee-WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee . . .
jesus loves and understands
ME!



Red State Religion Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch

I’d like to believe in your LORD
but I really can’t risk it
when his world is as badly composed
as a half-baked biscuit.



Evil Cabal
by Michael R. Burch

those who do Evil
do not know why
what they do is wrong
as they spit in ur eye.

nor did Jehovah,
the original Devil,
when he murdered eve,
our lovely rebel.



The Heimlich Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

for T. M.

The sanest of poets once wrote:
"Friend, why be a sheep or a goat?
Why follow the leader
or be a blind *******?"
But almost no one took note.



Be very careful what you pray for!
by Michael R. Burch

Now that his T’s been depleted
the Saint is upset, feeling cheated.
His once-fiery lust?
Just a chemical bust:
no “devil” cast out or defeated.



Practice Makes Perfect
by Michael R. Burch

I have a talent for sleep;
it’s one of my favorite things.
Thus when I sleep, I sleep deep ...
at least till the stupid clock rings.

I frown as I squelch its **** beep,
then fling it aside to resume
my practice for when I’ll sleep deep
in a silent and undisturbed tomb.



Enough!
by Michael R. Burch

It’s not that I don’t want to die;
I shall be glad to go.
Enough of diabetes pie,
and eating sickly crow!
Enough of win and place and show.
Enough of endless woe!

Enough of suffering and vice!
I’ve said it once;
I’ll say it twice:
I shall be glad to go.

But why the hell should I be nice
when no one asked for my advice?
So grumpily I’ll go ...
although
(most probably) below.



Redefinitions
by Michael R. Burch

Faith: falling into the same old claptrap.
Religion: the ties that blind.



pretty pickle
by michael r. burch

u’d blaspheme if u could
because ur God’s no good,
but of course u cant:
ur a lowly ant
(or so u were told by a Hierophant).



Defenses
by Michael R. Burch

Beyond the silhouettes of trees
stark, naked and defenseless
there stand long rows of sentinels:
these pert white picket fences.

Now whom they guard and how they guard,
the good Lord only knows;
but savages would have to laugh
observing the tidy rows.



Listen
by Michael R. Burch

Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.



fog
by michael r. burch

ur just a bit of fluff
drifting out over the ocean,
unleashing an atom of rain,
causing a minor commotion,
for which u expect awesome GODS
to pay u SUPREME DEVOTION!
... but ur just a smidgen of mist
unlikely to be missed ...
where did u get the notion?



thanksgiving prayer of the parasites
by michael r. burch

GODD is great;
GODD is good;
let us thank HIM
for our food.

by HIS hand
we all are fed;
give us now
our daily dead:

ah-men!

(p.s.,
most gracious
& salacious
HEAVENLY LORD,
we thank YOU in advance for
meals galore
of loverly gore:
of precious
delicious
sumptuous
scrumptious
human flesh!)



no foothold
by michael r. burch

there is no hope;
therefore i became invulnerable to love.
now even god cannot move me:
nothing to push or shove,
no foothold.

so let me live out my remaining days in clarity,
mine being the only nativity,
my death the final crucifixion
and apocalypse,

as far as the i can see ...



u-turn: another way to look at religion
by michael r. burch

... u were borne orphaned from Ecstasy
into this lower realm: just one of the inching worms
dreaming of Beatification;
u'd love to make a u-turn back to Divinity, but
having misplaced ur chrysalis,
can only chant magical phrases,
like Circe luring ulysses back into the pigsty ...



You
by Michael R. Burch

For thirty years You have not spoken to me;
I heard the dull hollow echo of silence
as though a communion between us.

For thirty years You would not open to me;
You remained closed, hard and tense,
like a clenched fist.

For thirty years You have not broken me
with Your alien ways and Your distance.
Like a child dismissed,

I have watched You prey upon the hope in me,
knowing “mercy” is chance
and “heaven”—a list.



I’ve got Jesus’s face on a wallet insert
by Michael R. Burch

for the Religious Right

I’ve got Jesus’s face on a wallet insert
and "Hell is for Queers" on the back of my shirt.
     And I uphold the Law,
     for Grace has a Flaw:
the Church must have someone to drag through the dirt.

I’ve got ten thousand reasons why Hell must exist,
and you’re at the top of my fast-swelling list!
     You’re nothing like me,
     so God must agree
and slam down the Hammer with His Loving Fist!

For what are the chances that God has a plan
to save everyone: even Boy George and Wham!?
     Eternal fell torture
     in Hell’s pressure scorcher
will separate **** from Man.

I’m glad I’m redeemed, ecstatic you’re not.
Did Christ die for sinners? Perish the thought!
     The "good news" is this:
     soon My vengeance is his!,
for you’re not the lost sheep We sought.



Pagans Protest the Intolerance of Christianity
by Michael R. Burch

“We have a common sky.” — Quintus Aurelius Symmachus (c. 345-402)

We had a common sky
before the Christians came.

We thought there might be gods
but did not know their names.

The common stars above us?
They winked, and would not tell.

Yet now our fellow mortals claim
our questions merit hell!

The cause of our damnation?
They claim they’ve seen the LIGHT ...

but still the stars wink down at us,
as wiser beings might.



jesus hates me, this i know
by michael r. burch

jesus hates me, this I know,
for Church libel tells me so:
"little ones to him belong"
but if they use their dongs, so long!
    yes, jesus hates me!
    yes, jesus baits me!
    yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!

jesus fleeces us, i know,
for Religion scams us so:
little ones are brainwashed to
believe god saves the Chosen Few!
    yes, jesus fleeces!
    yes, he deceases
    the bunny and the rhesus
    because he's mad at you!

jesus hates me—christ who died
so i might be crucified:
for if i use my active brain,
that will drive the "lord" insane!
    yes, jesus hates me!
    yes, jesus baits me!
    yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!

jesus hates me, this I know,
for Church libel tells me so:
first priests tell me "look above,"
that christ's the lamb and god's the dove,
but then they sentence me to Hell
for using my big brain too well!
    yes, jesus hates me!
    yes, jesus baits me!
    yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!



and then i was made whole
by michael r. burch

... and then i was made whole,
but not a thing entire,
glued to a perch
in a gilded church,
strung through with a silver wire ...

singing a little of this and of that,
warbling higher and higher:
a thing wholly dead
till I lifted my head
and spat at the Lord and his choir.



Starting from Scratch with Ol’ Scratch
by Michael R. Burch

for the Religious Right

Love, with a small, fatalistic sigh
went to the ovens. Please don’t bother to cry.
You could have saved her, but you were all *******
complaining about the Jews to Reichmeister Grupp.

Scratch that. You were born after World War II.
You had something more important to do:
while the children of the Nakba were perishing in Gaza
with the complicity of your government, you had a noble cause (a
religious tract against homosexual marriage
and various things gods and evangelists disparage.)

Jesus will grok you? Ah, yes, I’m quite sure
that your intentions were good and ineluctably pure.
After all, what the hell does he care about Palestinians?
Certainly, Christians were right about serfs, slaves and Indians.
Scratch that. You’re one of the Devil’s minions.



In His Kingdom of Corpses
by Michael R. Burch

In His kingdom of corpses,
God has been heard to speak
in many enraged discourses,
high, high from some mountain peak
where He’s lectured man on compassion
while the sparrows around Him fell,
and babes, for His meager ration
of rain, died and went to hell,
unbaptized, for that’s His fashion.

In His kingdom of corpses,
God has been heard to vent
in many obscure discourses
on the need for man to repent,
to admit that he’s a sinner;
give up ***, and riches, and fame;
be disciplined at his dinner
though always he dies the same,
whether fatter or thinner.

In his kingdom of corpses,
God has been heard to speak
in many absurd discourses
of man’s Ego, precipitous Peak!,
while demanding praise and worship,
and the bending of every knee.
And though He sounds like the Devil,
all religious men now agree
He loves them indubitably.



Beast 666
by Michael R. Burch

“what rough beast...slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?”―W. B. Yeats

Brutality is a cross
wooden, blood-stained,
gas hissing, sibilant,
lungs gilled, deveined,
red flecks on a streaked glass pane,
jeers jubilant,
mocking.

Brutality is shocking―
tiny orifices torn
by cruel adult lust,
the fetus unborn
tossed in a dust-
bin. The scarred skull shorn,
nails bloodied, tortured,
an old wound sutured
over, never healed.

Brutality, all its faces revealed,
is legion:
Death March, Trail of Tears, Inquisition . . .
always the same.
The Beast of the godless and of man’s “religion”
slouching toward Jerusalem:
horned, crowned, gibbering, drooling, insane.



I AM
by Michael R. Burch

I am not one of ten billion―I―
sunblackened Icarus, chary fly,
staring at God with a quizzical eye.
I am not one of ten billion, I.

I am not one life has left unsquashed―
scarred as Ulysses, goddess-debauched,
pale glowworm agleam with a tale of panache.
I am not one life has left unsquashed.

I am not one without spots of disease,
laugh lines and tan lines and thick-callused knees
from begging and praying and girls sighing "Please! "
I am not one without spots of disease.

I am not one of ten billion―I―
scion of Daedalus, blackwinged fly
staring at God with a sedulous eye.
I am not one of ten billion, I
AM!



Snap Shots
by Michael R. Burch

Our daughters must be celibate,
die virgins. We triangulate
their early paths to heaven (for
the martyrs they'll soon conjugate).

We like to hook a little tail.
We hope there's decent ** in jail.
Don't fool with us; our bombs are smart!
(We'll send the plans, ASAP, e-mail.)

The soul is all that matters; why
hoard gold if it offends the eye?
A pension plan? Don't make us laugh!
We have your plan for sainthood. (Die.)



Unwhole
by Michael R. Burch

What is it that we strive to remember, to regain,
as memory deserts us,
leaving us destitute of even ourselves,
of all but pain?

How can something so essential be forgotten,
if we are more than our bodies?
How can a soul
become so unwhole?



Nonbeliever
by Michael R. Burch writing as Kim Cherub

She smiled a thin-lipped smile
(What do men know of love?)
then rolled her eyes toward heaven
(Or that Chauvinist above?).



evol-u-shun
by Michael R. Burch

does GOD love the Tyger
while it's ripping ur lamb apart?

does GOD applaud the Bubonic Plague
while it's eating u à la carte?

does GOD admire ur intelligence
while u pray that IT has a heart?

does GOD endorse the Bible
you blue-lighted at k-mart?



Breakings
by Michael R. Burch

I did it out of pity.
I did it out of love.
I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove.
But gods without compassion
ordained: Frail things must break!
Now what can I do for her shattered psyche's sake?

I did it not to push.
I did it not to shove.
I did it to assist the flight of indiscriminate Love.

But gods, all mad as hatters,
who legislate in all such matters,
ordained that everything irreplaceable shatters.



Alien
by Michael R. Burch

for  a "Christian" poet

On a lonely outpost on Mars
the astronaut practices "speech"
as alien to primates below
as mute stars winking high, out of reach.

And his words fall as bright and as chill
as ice crystals on Kilimanjaro―
far colder than Jesus's words
over the "fortunate" sparrow.

And I understand how gentle Emily
felt, when all comfort had flown,
gazing into those inhuman eyes,
feeling zero at the bone.

Oh, how can I grok his arctic thought?
For if he is human, I am not.



Crescendo Against Heaven
by Michael R. Burch

As curiously formal as the rose,
the imperious Word grows
until its sheds red-gilded leaves:
then heaven grieves
love's tiny pool of crimson recrimination
against God, its contention
of the price of salvation.

These industrious trees,
endlessly losing and re-losing their leaves,
finally unleashing themselves from earth, lashing
themselves to bits, washing
themselves free
of all but the final ignominy
of death, become
at last: fast planks of our coffins, dumb.

Together now, rude coffins, crosses,
death-cursed but bright vermilion roses,
bodies, stumps, tears, words: conspire
together with a nearby spire
to raise their Accusation Dire...
to scream, complain, to point out these
and other Dark Anomalies.

God always silent, ever afar,
distant as Bethlehem's retrograde star,
we point out now, in resignation:
You asked too much of man's beleaguered nation,
gave too much strength to his Enemy,
as though to prove Your Self greater than He,
at our expense, and so men die
(whose accusations vex the sky)
yet hope, somehow, that You are good...
just, O greatest of Poets!, misunderstood.



Advice for Evangelicals
by Michael R. Burch

"... so let your light shine before men..."

Consider the example of the woodland anemone:
she preaches no sermons but―immaculate―shines,
and rivals the angels in bright innocence and purity,
the sweetest of divines.

And no one has heard her engage in hypocrisy
since the beginning of time―an oracle so mute,
so profound in her silence and exemplary poise
she makes lessons moot.

So consider the example of the saintly anemone
and if you'd convince us Christ really exists,
then let him be just as sweet, just as guileless
and equally as gracious to bless.



Heaven Bent
by Michael R. Burch

This life is hell; it can get no worse.
Summon the coroner, the casket, the hearse!
I'm upwardly mobile; this one thing I know:
I can only go up; I'm already below!



Shock and Awe
by Michael R. Burch

With megatons of "wonder, "
we make our godhead clear:
Death. Destruction. Fear.

The world's heart ripped asunder,
its dying pulse we hear:
Death. Destruction. Fear.

Strange Trinity! We ponder
this God we hold so dear:
Death. Destruction. Fear.

The vulture and the condor
proclaim: The feast is near!―
Death. Destruction. Fear.

Soon He will plow us under;
the Anti-Christ is here:
Death. Destruction. Fear.

We love to hear Him thunder!
With Shock and Awe, appear!―
Death. Destruction. Fear.

For God can never blunder;
we know He holds US dear:
Death. Destruction. Fear.



Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch

Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go...
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.

Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us sleep here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin...
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will "win."

Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through...
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.



What Immense Silence
by Michael R. Burch

What immense silence
comforts those who kneel here
beneath these vaulted ceilings
cavernous and vast?

What luminescence stained
by patchwork panels of bright glass
illuminates drained faces
as the crouching gargoyles leer?

What brings them here―
pale, tearful congregations,
knowing all Hope is past,
faithfully, year upon year?

Or could they be right? Perhaps
Love is, implausibly, near
and I alone have not seen It...
But, if so, still, I must ask:

why is it God that they fear?



Intimations
by Michael R. Burch

Let mercy surround us
with a sweet persistence.

Let love propound to us
that life is infinitely more than existence.



Altared Spots
by Michael R. Burch

The mother leopard buries her cub,
then cries three nights for his bones to rise
clad in new flesh, to celebrate the sunrise.

Good mother leopard, pensive thought
and fiercest love's wild insurrection
yield no certainty of a resurrection.

Man's tried them both, has added tears,
chants, dances, drugs, séances, tombs'
white alabaster prayer-rooms, wombs

where dead men's frozen genes convene...
there is no answer―death is death.
So bury your son, and save your breath.

Or emulate earth's "highest species"―
write a few strange poems and odd treatises.



Flight
by Michael R. Burch

Poetry captures
less than reality
the spirit of things

being the language
not of the lordly falcon
but of the dove with broken wings

whose heavenward flight
though brutally interrupted
is ever towards the light.



Winter Night
by Michael R. Burch

Who will be ******,
who embalmed
for all eternity?

The night weighs heavy on me―
leaden, sullen, cold.
O, but my thoughts are light,

like the weightless windblown snow.



Tonight, Let's Remember
by Michael R. Burch

July 7,2007 (7-7-7)

Tonight, let's remember the fond ways
our fingers engendered new methods to praise
the gray at my temples, your thinning hair.
Tonight, let's remember, and let us draw near...

Tonight, let's remember, as mortals do,
how cutely we chortled when work was through,
society sated, all gods put to rest,
and you in my arms, and I at your breast...

Tonight, let's remember how daring, how free
the Madeira made us, recumbently.
Our inhibitions?―we laid them to rest.
Earth, heaven or hell―we knew we were blessed.

Tonight, let's remember the dwindling days
we've spent here together―the sun's rays
spending their power beyond somber hills.
Soon we'll rest together; there'll be no more bills.

Tonight, let's remember: we've paid all our dues,
we've suffered our sorrows, we've learned how to lose.
What's left now to take, only God can tell.
Be with me in heaven, or "bliss" will be hell!

I do not want God; I want to see you
free from all sorrow, your labor through,
a song on your tongue, a smile on your lips,
sweet, sultry and vagrant, a child at your hips,

laughing and beaming and ready to frolic
in a world free from cancer and gout and colic.
For you were courageous, and kind, and true.
There must be a heaven for someone like you.



I, Lazarus
by Michael R. Burch

I, Lazarus, without a heart,
devoid of blood and spiritless,
lay in the darkness, meritless:
my corpse―a thing cold, dead, apart.

But then I thought I heard―a Voice,
a Voice that called me from afar.
And so I stood and laughed, bizarre:
a thing embalmed, made to rejoice!

I ran ungainly-legged to see
who spoke my name, and then I knew
him by the light. His name is True,
and now he is the life in me!

I never died again! Believe!
(Oops! Seems it was a brief reprieve.)



To Know You as Mary
by Michael R. Burch

To know You as Mary,
when You spoke her name
and her world was never the same...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.

O, then I would laugh
and be glad that I came,
never minding the chill, the disconsolate rain...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.

I might not think this earth
the sharp focus of pain
if I heard You exclaim―
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom

my most unexpected, unwarranted name!
But you never spoke. Explain?



Peers
by Michael R. Burch

These thoughts are alien, as through green slime
smeared on some lab tech's brilliant slide, I *****,
positioning my bright oscilloscope
for better vantage, though I cannot see,
but only peer, as small things disappear―
these quanta strange as men, as passing queer.

And you, Great Scientist, are you the One,
or just an intern, necktie half undone,
white sleeves rolled up, thick documents in hand
(dense manuals you don't quite understand) ,
exposing me, perhaps, to too much Light?
Or do I escape your notice, quick and bright?

Perhaps we wield the same dull Instrument
(and yet the Thesis will be Eloquent!).



Gethsemane in Every Breath
by Michael R. Burch

LORD, we have lost our way, and now
we have mislaid love―earth's fairest rose.
We forgot hope's song―the way it goes.
Help us reclaim their gifts, somehow.

LORD, we have wondered long and far
in search of Bethlehem's retrograde star.
Now in night's dead cold grasp, we gasp:
our lives one long-drawn rattling rasp

of misspent breath... before we drown.
LORD, help us through this spiral down
because we faint, and do not see
above or beyond despair's trajectory.

Remember that You, too, once held
imperiled life within your hands
as hope withdrew... that where You knelt
―a stranger in a stranger land―

the chalice glinted cold afar
and red with blood as hellfire.
Did heaven ever seem so far?
Remember―we are as You were,

but all our lives, from birth to death―
Gethsemane in every breath.



A Possible Argument for Mercy
by Michael R. Burch

Did heaven ever seem so far?
Remember-we are as You were,
but all our lives, from birth to death―
Gethsemane in every breath.



Birthday Poem to Myself
by Michael R. Burch

LORD, be no longer this Distant Presence,
Star-Afar, Righteous-Anonymous,
but come! Come live among us;
come dwell again,
happy child among men―
men rejoicing to have known you
in the familiar manger's cool
sweet light scent of unburdened hay.
Teach us again to be light that way,
with a chorus of angelic songs lessoned above.
Be to us again that sweet birth of Love
in the only way men can truly understand.
Do not frown darkening down upon an unrighteous land
planning fierce Retributions we require, and deserve,
but remember the child you were; believe
in the child I was, alike to you in innocence
a little while, all sweetness, and helpless without pretense.
Let us be little children again, magical in your sight.
Grant me this boon! Is it not my birthright―
just to know you, as you truly were, and are?
Come, be my friend. Help me understand and regain Hope's long-departed star!



Learning to Fly
by Michael R. Burch

We are learning to fly
every day...

learning to fly―
away, away...

O, love is not in the ephemeral flight,
but love, Love! is our destination―

graced land of eternal sunrise, radiant beyond night!
Let us bear one another up in our vast migration.



The Gardener's Roses
by Michael R. Burch

Mary Magdalene, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, "Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away."

I too have come to the cave;
within: strange, half-glimpsed forms
and ghostly paradigms of things.
Here, nothing warms

this lightening moment of the dawn,
pale tendrils spreading east.
And I, of all who followed Him,
by far the least...

The women take no note of me;
I do not recognize
the men in white, the gardener,
these unfamiliar skies...

Faint scent of roses, then―a touch!
I turn, and I see: You.
"My Lord, why do You tarry here:
Another waits, Whose love is true? "

"Although My Father waits, and bliss;
though angels call―ecstatic crew!―
I gathered roses for a Friend.
I waited here, for You."



Kingdom Freedom
by Michael R. Burch

LORD, grant me a rare sweet spirit of forgiveness.
Let me have none of the lividness
of religious outrage.

LORD, let me not be over-worried
about the lack of "morality" around me.
Surround me,

not with law's restrictive cage,
but with Your spirit, freer than the wind,
so that to breathe is to have freest life,

and not to fly to You, my only sin.



Cædmon's Face
by Michael R. Burch

At the monastery of Whitby,
on a day when the sun sank through the sea,
and the gulls shrieked wildly, jubilant, free,

while the wind and Time blew all around,
I paced that dusk-enamored ground
and thought I heard the steps resound

of Carroll, Stoker and good Bede
who walked here too, their spirits freed
―perhaps by God, perhaps by need―

to write, and with each line, remember
the glorious light of Cædmon's ember:
scorched tongues of flame words still engender.



He wrote here in an English tongue,
a language so unlike our own,
unlike―as father unto son.

But when at last a child is grown.
his heritage is made well-known:
his father's face becomes his own.



He wrote here of the Middle-Earth,
the Maker's might, man's lowly birth,
of every thing that God gave worth

suspended under heaven's roof.
He forged with simple words His truth
and nine lines left remain the proof:

his face was Poetry's, from youth.



Prayer for a Merciful, Compassionate, etc., God to ****** His Creations Quickly & Painlessly, Rather than Slowly & Painfully
by Michael R. Burch

Lord, **** me fast and please do it quickly!
Please don’t leave me gassed, archaic and sickly!
Why render me mean, rude, wrinkly and prickly?
Lord, why procrastinate?

Lord, we all know you’re an expert killer!
Please, don’t leave me aging like Phyllis Diller!
Why torture me like some poor sap in a thriller?
God, grant me a gentler fate!

Lord, we all know you’re an expert at ******
like Abram—the wild-eyed demonic goat-herder
who’d slit his son’s throat without thought at your order.
Lord, why procrastinate?

Lord, we all know you’re a terrible sinner!
What did dull Japheth eat for his 300th dinner
after a year on the ark, growing thinner and thinner?
God, grant me a gentler fate!

Dear Lord, did the lion and tiger compete
for the last of the lambkin’s sweet, tender meat?
How did Noah preserve his fast-rotting wheat?
God, grant me a gentler fate!

Lord, why not be a merciful Prelate?
Do you really want me to detest, loathe and hate
the Father, the Son and their Ghostly Mate?
Lord, why procrastinate?



Is there any Light left?
by Michael R. Burch

Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for being?
Blind and unseeing,
rejecting and fleeing
our humanity, goat-hooved and cleft?

Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for living?
Blind, unforgiving,
unworthy of heaven
or this planet red, reeking and reft?

NOTE: While “hoofed” is the more common spelling, I preferred “hooved” for this poem. Perhaps because of the contrast created by “love” and “hooved.”



Modern Dreams
by Michael R. Burch

after David B. Gosselin

I dreamed that God was good, but then I woke
and all his goodness vanished—****!—
like smoke.

I dreamed his Word was good, but then I heard
commandments evil, awful, weird,
absurd.

I dreamed of Heaven where cruel Angels flew
above my head and screamed, the Chosen Few,
“We’re not like you!”

I dreamed of Hell below, where prostitutes
adored by Jesus, played on lovely lutes
“True Love Commutes.”

I dreamed of Earth then woke to hear a Gong’s
repellent echoes in Religion’s song
of right gone wrong.



Star Crossed
by Michael R. Burch

Remember—
night is not like day;
the stars are closer than they seem ...
now, bending near, they seem to say
the morning sun was merely a dream
ember.




Well, Almost
by Michael R. Burch

All Christians say “Never again!”
to the inhumanity of men
(except when the object of phlegm
is a Palestinian).



O, My Redeeming Angel
by Michael R. Burch

O my Redeeming Angel, after we
have fought till death (and soon the night is done) ...
then let us rest awhile, await the sun,
and let us put aside all enmity.

I might have been the “victor”—who can tell?—
so many wounds abound. All out of joint,
my groin, my thigh ... and nothing to anoint
but sunsplit, shattered stone, as pillars hell.

Light, easy flight to heaven, Your return!
How hard, how dark, this path I, limping, walk.
I only ask Your blessing; no more talk!

Withhold Your name, and yet my ears still burn
and so my heart. You asked me, to my shame:
for Jacob—trickster, shyster, sham—’s my name.



To Know You as Mary
by Michael R. Burch

To know you as Mary,
when you spoke her name
and her world was never the same ...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.

O, then I would laugh
and be glad that I came,
never minding the chill, the disconsolate rain ...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.

I might not think this earth
the sharp focus of pain
if I heard you exclaim—
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom

my most unexpected, unwarranted name!
But you never spoke. Explain?



ur-gent
by Michael R. Burch

if u would be a good father to us all,
revoke the Curse,
extract the Gall;

but if the abuse continues,
look within
into ur Mindless Soulless Emptiness Grim,

& admit ur sin,
heartless jehovah,
slayer of widows and orphans ...

quick, begin!



Bible libel (ii)
by Michael R. Burch

ur savior’s a cad
—he’s as bad as his dad—
according to your strange Bible.

demanding belief
or he’ll bring u to grief?
he’s worse than his horn-sprouting rival!

was the man ever good
before made a “god”?
if so, half your Bible is libel!



stock-home sin-drone
by Michael R. Burch

ur GAUD created this hellish earth;
thus u FANTAsize heaven
(an escape from rebirth).

ur GUAD is a monster,
**** ur RELIGION lied
and called u his frankensteinian bride!

now, like so many others cruelly abused,
u look for salve-a-shun
to the AUTHOR of ur pain’s selfish creation.

cons preach the “TRUE GOSPEL”
and proudly shout it,
but if ur GAUD were good
he would have to doubt it.



un-i-verse-all love
by Michael R. Burch

there is a Gaud, it’s true!
and furthermore, tHeSh(e)It loves u!
unfortunately
the
He
Sh(e)
It
,even more adorably,
loves cancer, aids and leprosy.



yet another post-partum christmas blues poem
by michael r. burch

ur GAUD created hell; it’s called the earth;
HE mused u briefly, clods of little worth:
let’s conjure some little monkeys
to be BIG RELIGION’s flunkeys!
GAUD belched, went back to sleep, such was ur birth.



wee the many
by michael r. burch

wee never really lived: was that our fault?
now thanks to ur GAUD wee lie in an underground vault.
wee lie here, the little ones ur GAUD despised!
HE condemned us to death before wee opened our eyes!
as it was in the days of noah, it still remains:
GAUD kills us with floods he conjures from murderous rains.



Untitled ur poems

since GOD created u so gullible
how did u conclude HE’s so lovable?
—Michael R. Burch

limping to the grave under the sentence of death,
should i praise ur LORD? think i’ll save my breath!
—Michael R. Burch



One of the Flown
by Michael R. Burch

Forgive me for not having known
you were one of the flown—
flown from the distant haunts
of someone else’s enlightenment,
alighting here to a darkness all your own . . .

I imagine you perched,
pretty warbler, in your starched
dress, before you grew bellicose . . .
singing quaint love’s highest falsetto notes,
brightening the pew of some dilapidated church . . .

But that was before autumn’s
messianic dark hymns . . .
Deepening on the landscape—winter’s inevitable shadows.
Love came too late; hope flocked to bare meadows,
preparing to leave. Then even the thought of life became grim,

thinking of Him . . .
To flee, finally,—that was no whim,
no adventure, but purpose.
I see you now a-wing: pale-eyed, intent, serious:
always, always at the horizon’s broadening rim . . .

How long have you flown now, pretty voyager?
I keep watch from afar: pale lover and ******.



what the “Chosen Few” really pray for
by Michael R. Burch

We are ready to be robed in light,
angel-bright

despite
Our intolerance;

ready to enter Heaven and never return
(dark, this sojourn);

ready to worse-ship any gaud
able to deliver Us from this flawed

existence;
We pray with the persistence

of actual saints
to be delivered from all earthly constraints:

just kiss each uplifted Face
with lips of gentlest grace,

cooing the sweetest harmonies
while brutally crushing Our enemies!

ah-Men!



wild wild west-east-north-south-up-down
by Michael R. Burch

each day it resumes—the great struggle for survival.

the fiercer and more perilous the wrath,
the wilder and wickeder the weaponry,
the better the daily odds
(just don’t bet on the long term, or revival).

so ur luvable Gaud decreed, Theo-retically,
if indeed He exists
as ur Bible insists—
the Wildest and the Wickedest of all
with the brightest of creatures in thrall
(unless u
somehow got that bleary
Theo-ry
wrong too).



The Strangest Rain
by Michael R. Burch

"I ... am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur?and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves ..."?Emily Dickinson

"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry."--Emily Dickinson

The strangest rain, a few bright sluggish drops,
unsure if they should fall, run through with sun,
came tumbling down and touched me, one by one,
too few to animate the shriveled crops
of nearby farmers (though their daughters might
feel each cool splash, a-shiver with delight).

I thought again of Emily Dickinson,
who felt the tingle down her spine, inspired
to lifting hairs, to nerves’ electric song
of passion for a thing so deep-desired
the heart and gut agree, and so must tremble
as all the neurons of the brain assemble
to whisper: This is love, but what is love?
Wrens darting rainbows, laughter high above.



Note to a Chick on a Religious Kick
by Michael R. Burch

Daisy,
when you smile, my life gets sunny;
you make me want to spend all my ****** money;
but honey,
you can be a bit ... um ... hazy,
perhaps mentally lazy?,
okay, downright crazy,
praying to the Easter Bunny!



Untitled Heresies from The ur Poems and GAUD poems

& GAUD said, “Let there be LIGHT VERSE
to illuminate the ‘nature’ of my Curse!”
—michael r. burch

reverse the Curse
with LIGHT VERSE!
recant the cant
with an illuminating chant
,etc.
—michael r. burch

Can the darkness of Christianity with its “eternal hell” be repealed via humor? It’s time to recant the cant, please pardon the puns.

if ur GAUD
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.
—michael r. burch

Christianity replaces Santa Claus with Jesus, so swell,
and coal, ashes and soot with an “eternal hell.”
—Michael R. Burch



day eight of the Divine Plan
by michael r. burch

the earth’s a-stir
with a GAUDLY whirr...

the L(AWE)D’s been creatin’!

com(men)ce t’ matin’!

hatch lotsa babies
he’ll infect with rabies
then ban from college
for seekin’ knowledge
like curious eve!

dear chilluns, don’t grieve,
be(lie)ve the Deceiver!

(never ask why ur Cupid
wanted eve stupid,
animalistic, and naked.)

ah-men!



lust!
by michael r. burch

i was only a child
in a world dark and wild
seeking affection
in eyes mild

and in all my bright dreams
sweet love shimmered, beguiled ...

but the black-robed Priest
who called me the least
of all god’s creation
then spoke for the Beast:

He called my great passion a thing base, defiled!

He condemned me to hell,
the foul Ne’er-Do-Well,
for the sake of the copper
His Pig-Snout could smell
in the purse of my mother,
“the ***** jezebel.”

my sweet passions condemned
by degenerate men?
and she so devout
she exclaimed, “yay, aye-men!” ...

together we learned why Religion is hell.

Published by Lucid Rhythms, The HyperTexts and Black Waters of Melancholy


A coming day
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, due to her hellish religion

There will be a day,
a day when the lightning strikes from a rainbowed mist
when it will be too late, too late for me to say
that I found your faith unblessed.

There will be a day,
a day when the storm clouds gather, ominous,
when it will be too late, too late to put away
this darkness that came between us.



Hellbound
by Michael R. Burch

Mother, it’s dark
and you never did love me
because you put Yahweh and Yeshu
above me.

Did they ever love you
or cling to you? No.
Now Mother, it’s cold
and I fear for my soul.

Mother, they say
you will leave me and go
to some distant “heaven”
I never shall know.

If that’s your choice,
you made it. Not me.
You brought me to life;
will you nail me to the tree?

Christ! Mother, they say
God condemned me to hell.
If the Devil’s your God
then farewell, farewell!

Or if there is Love
in some other dimension,
let’s reconcile there
and forget such cruel detention.

Keywords/Tags: god, Jesus, Christ, Christian, prayer, Bible, angel, atheist, faith, blasphemy, heresy, heresies, heretic, heretic, heretical, pagan, pagans, god, gods, mrbhere



He Lived: Excerpts from “Gilgamesh”
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I.
He who visited hell, his country’s foundation,
Was well-versed in mysteries’ unseemly dark places.
He deeply explored many underworld realms
Where he learned of the Deluge and why Death erases.

II.
He built the great ramparts of Uruk-the-Sheepfold
And of holy Eanna. Then weary, alone,
He recorded his thoughts in frail scratchings called “words”:
But words made immortal, once chiseled in stone.

III.
These walls he erected are ever-enduring:
Vast walls where the widows of dead warriors weep.
Stand by them. O, feel their immovable presence!
For no other walls are as strong as this keep’s.

IV.
Come, climb Uruk’s tower on a starless night—
Ascend its steep stairway to escape modern error.
Cross its ancient threshold. You are close to Ishtar,
The Goddess of Ecstasy and of Terror!

V.
Find the cedar box with its hinges of bronze;
Lift the lid of its secrets; remove its dark slate;
Read of the travails of our friend Gilgamesh—
Of his descent into hell and man’s terrible fate!

VI.
Surpassing all kings, heroic in stature,
Wild bull of the mountains, the Goddess his dam
—Bedding no other man; he was her sole rapture—
Who else can claim fame, as he thundered, “I am!”



Enkidu Enters the House of Dust
an original poem by Michael R. Burch

I entered the house of dust and grief.
Where the pale dead weep there is no relief,
for there night descends like a final leaf
to shiver forever, unstirred.

There is no hope left when the tree’s stripped bare,
for the leaf lies forever dormant there
and each man cloaks himself in strange darkness, where
all company’s unheard.

No light’s ever pierced that oppressive night
so men close their eyes on their neighbors’ plight
or stare into darkness, lacking sight ...
each a crippled, blind bat-bird.

Were these not once eagles, gallant men?
Who sits here—pale, wretched and cowering—then?
O, surely they shall, they must rise again,
gaining new wings? “Absurd!

For this is the House of Dust and Grief
where men made of clay, eat clay. Relief
to them’s to become a mere windless leaf,
lying forever unstirred.”

“Anu and Enlil, hear my plea!
Ereshkigal, they all must go free!
Beletseri, dread scribe of this Hell, hear me!”
But all my shrill cries, obscured

by vast eons of dust, at last fell mute
as I took my place in the ash and soot.



Reclamation
an original poem by Michael R. Burch

after Robert Graves, with a nod to Mary Shelley

I have come to the dark side of things
where the bat sings
its evasive radar
and Want is a crooked forefinger
attached to a gelatinous wing.

I have grown animate here, a stitched corpse
hooked to electrodes.
And night
moves upon me—progenitor of life
with its foul breath.

Blind eyes have their second sight
and still are deceived. Now my nature
is softly to moan
as Desire carries me
swooningly across her threshold.

Stone
is less infinite than her crone’s
gargantuan hooked nose, her driveling lips.
I eye her ecstatically—her dowager figure,
and there is something about her that my words transfigure

to a consuming emptiness.
We are at peace
with each other; this is our venture—
swaying, the strings tautening, as tightropes
tauten, as love tightens, constricts

to the first note.
Lyre of our hearts’ pits,
orchestration of nothing, adits
of emptiness! We have come to the last of our hopes,
sweet as congealed blood sweetens for flies.

Need is reborn; love dies.

Keywords/Tags: Epic of Gilgamesh, epic, epical, orient occident, oriental, ancient, ancestors, ancestry, primal



Double Dactyls and Dabble Dactyls

Sniggledy-Wriggledy
Jesus Christ’s enterprise
leaves me in awe of
the rich men he loathed!

But should a Sadducee
settle for trifles?
His disciples now rip off
the Lord they betrothed.
―Michael R. Burch

Donald Double Dactyl

Higgledy Piggledy
Ronald McDonald
cursed Donald Trump,
his least favorite clown:

"Why should I try to be
funny as Donald? He
gets all the laughs
saying upside is down!"
―Michael R. Burch



Lines for My Ascension
by Michael R. Burch

I.
If I should die,
there will come a Doom,
and the sky will darken
to the deepest Gloom.

But if my body
should not be found,
never think of me
in the cold ground.


II.
If I should die,
let no mortal say,
“Here was a man,
with feet of clay,

or a timid sparrow
God’s hand let fall.”
But watch the sky darken
to an eerie pall

and know that my Spirit,
unvanquished, broods,
and scoffs at quaint churchyards
littered with roods.

And if my body
should not be found,
never think of me
in the cold ground.


III.
If I should die,
let no man adore
his incompetent Maker:
Zeus, Yahweh, or Thor.

Think of Me as the One
who never died—
the unvanquished Immortal
with the unriven side.

And if my body
should not be found,
never think of me
in the cold ground.


IV.
And if I should “die,”
though the clouds grow dark
as fierce lightnings rend
this bleak asteroid, stark ...

If you look above,
you will see a bright Sign—
the sun with the moon
in its arms, Divine.

So divine, if you can,
my bright meaning, and know—
my Spirit is mine.
I will go where I go.

And if my body
should not be found,
never think of me
in the cold ground.




Listen
by Immanuel A. Michael (an alias of Michael R. Burch)

1.
Listen to me now
and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone,
screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black
and white is white
and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words?
They come to him:
the moon's illuminations,
intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now,
and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell,
and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,
but listen,
or cut off your ears,
for I Am weary.

I desire mercy, not sacrifice.

2.
Listen to me now: I had a Vision.
An elevated train derailed, and Fell.
It was the Church brought low, almost to Hell.
And I alone survived, who dream of Mercy:
the Heretic, who speaks behind the Veil.

3.
Listen to me now: I saw an airplane
fall from the sky. And why should I explain?
The Visions are the same. It is my Heresy
that I survive, because I sing of Mercy,
while elevated "saints" go down in flames.

4.
Listen to me now: I saw in Nashville
how those who "soar" will plummet―Fame in flames!―
and fall on those below, as if to **** them.
The lowly, saved, will understand their names.

5.
Listen to me now: I heard another
say, "That which died shall Resurrect and Live."
An angel with a Rose bestowing Mercy!
What can it mean, but that my Visions give
fair warning to the world that God wants Mercy.
My Heresy is that we must forgive!

6.
Listen to me now: she heard god calling―
O, who will love me, who will be my friend?
Does he want Perfect Saints, the whitewashed Purists,
who frown down on their "brothers," without end?

7.
Listen to me now: you are not perfect,
and your "wise counsel" helps no one at all:
unless it's sweetened with the sweetest Mercy,
it's pure astringent antiseptic gall.

8.
Listen to me now, and learn this lesson:
If God wants mercy, why dig at the speck
in your brother's eye, when even now the Beam,
your lack of mercy, spares, no, neither neck,
becomes the Hangman's Millstone. We're all children,
all little ones! Be patient with the fleck!

9.
Listen to me now: for the Announcer
explained that wars have given Presidents
the precedents to soon assume all Power.
Vote, citizens, or be mere residents!

10.
O, listen to me now: I saw the Warheads
stored safely underground, except for One.
A red-haired woman with a bright complexion
seduced the guard. Translucent blouse, red thong,
white bra―these were her fearsome antique weapons.

I saw the Skull and Crossbones! Heed my Song!

11.
O, listen to me now, and hear my Gospel:
three verses of such sweet simplicity!
God is Light: in Him there is no darkness.
In Christ, no condemnation: Liberty!
God want no Sacrifice, but only Mercy.
O, who could ask for sweeter Heresy?

12.
Theology? I swear that I disdain it!
If Love can be explained, why then explain it!
If Love can't be explained why, then, should God,
if God is Love? Nor hell nor cattle ****
is needed, if God's good, and God's supreme.
Ask, children, what "re-ligion" truly means:
"return to *******! " Heed the bondsman's screams!

13.
Heed, children, which Theologies you dream
when Hellish Nightmares wake you, when you Scream
for comfort, but no comforter is there.
Which Voices do you heed, which Crosses bear?
If god is light, whence do Dark Visions come
which leave the Taste of Venom on your Tongue,
with which you **** your brother for one Sin
you do not share, ten thousand underskin
like Itching Worms that Squirm and Vilely Hiss:
"Your brother's sin will keep him from god's bliss,
but You are safe because god favors You! "
If God is Love, how can this voice be true?

14.
For God is not a favorer of men.
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.
Matt  Feb 2015
Soviet Afghan War
Matt Feb 2015
1 million Afghans and 15,000 Soviet conscripts died
Fought with American guns

Foreign nations had tried for centuries to conquer Afghanistan
In the 1970's it became a focus for the superpowers

To Moscow, a friendly Afghanistan was important

Afghanistan's new leader looked to the Soviet Union for support
The Soviet Union sent advisors to advance socialism

Land was taken from large owners
And handed to the peasants who worked it

Women were encouraged to stop wearing veils
And were put into literacy classes with men

The reforms were seen to threaten ancient customs
And the authority of the Mullahs

The Mullah says,
"God has decided who is rich and who is poor,
It can't be changed by communists."

Opponents of the reforms
Burned down schools and universities
Resistant grew throughout the country

Iranians joined in
Calling for a Jihad
Against the communists

The U.S. thought
That the Soviets might use the Afghan crisis
To move south
And seize the oil of the Persian Gulf

Meanwhile the Shah of Iran was overthrown
The U.S. lost its most important ally in the region
The U.S. considered the possibility of a Soviet controlled Iran

Carter sent the Mujahideen equipment,
Mostly communication equipment
They were mostly peasants

Recruits for the Jihad walked for days
Across the mountains to reach the fighting

Soviet trained Afghan army
Thousands of men deserted
Kabul requested Soviet troops

Afghan president met with Soviet leader

The Soviets feared the spread of Islamic fundamentalism
Into Afghanistan from Iran
The Soviets felt they had to send troops to stabilize the region
Moscow hoped they could complete their mission in weeks

Moscow had Amin assassinated
They didn't like him talking with the Americans

At the United Nations
The invasion of the Soviet Union was condemned

The Soviets began with large sweeps
Their approach was a disaster
Mujahideen remained in the villages
Guerilla fighters remained in the mountains

Reagan stepped up aid to the Mujahideen

The Mujahideen were spilt along tribal lines
They sometimes fought each other

A war fought with our gold
And their blood
According to CIA man

The U.S. viewed the conflict in Afghanistan as an internal
Cold War struggle
The U.S. provided assistance to anti-Soviet forces
Through the Pakistani intelligent services

The Red Army changed tactics
And took to the air
Soviet commandos
Dropped in by helicopters

Soviet aircraft bombing indiscriminantly
Village after village pummeled into oblivion
Then overrun by Soviet troops
The village men who refused to join the Afghan army were murdered

Thousands of civilians killed in Soviet atrocities

The mujahideen attacked Soviet convoys
2,000 Soviets died each year
The war seemed pointless to the Soviet soldiers

The mujahideen favored sabotage operations and assassinations
The Stinger missiles were effective for them as well

Reagan said,
"To watch the courageous Afghan freedom fighters
Battle modern arsenals with simple hand-held weapons is an inspiration to those who love freedom."

The war lasted almost a decade
The early foundations of al-Qaeda
Were allegedly built on relationships
And weaponry that came from billions
Of dollars in U.S. support for the Mujahideen

Scholars have argued that Bin laden was outside
Of CIA eyesight
And that there is no support for the claim
That the CIA funded Bin Laden
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3m95FosmTw
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_war_in_Afghanistan
Michael Kusi Apr 2018
Chapter 1- The Saga of the Dragon-Power and Federation Battlefare
Stanza 1-Lady of the Night
You’re such a parcel, but not much of a marvel, you lack a price
But that is good because now we have the Oathed Sacrifice!
Such was the words when Dragon-Man stood before his main foe.
He dare not think what types of devices Drent had for pain though.
Dragon-man was taken off the Lynxian Road and it was a horror soon.
I was watching with my cousins one of the last of the Saturday morning cartoons.
My cousins watched for more, I had already seen it all twenty years before.
I was just shocked that they would show Dragon-Man to Generation Y
Dragon-Man looked to me now like one of those ventilation guys.
I could see Dragon-Man smiling, and I knew exactly what that smile meant.
Because he needed the Composi crossbow, and he could only get it from vile Drent.
The arrows were like missiles that sought out and broke down the body.
It was the type of weapon so strong, it was almost ungodly.

The Abyss-Sword, tell me what does it feel like to be killed by your own weapon.
Dragon-Man replied with a smirk, I don’t know you tell me, and got to steppin.
He reached for the Composi crossbow, but it was snatched away by a Brackti Guard.
**** him with the full arsenal we have, and make sure his death is especially hard.
It is amazing that Dragon-Man could withstand such an onslaught.
He cannot stand up against it for long, with such brawn brought.
Some of the firepower gets close, Dragon-Man might not survive for long.
What manner of man can withstand such a powerful throng?
Suddenly, there is a noise, and all of the Brackti Guard fall dead.
Drent you might have to sacrifice yourself, said a voice that they all dread.
Beside all of them were gleaming bullets, which had a hole in them but were filled with lead.
It was the Lady of the Night, who came in with the Nike sling.
This weaponry was fierce and devoured enemies and their everything.
It also  made a hellish noise when it fired Byzantine bullets, nothing could stand in its path.
Drent suddenly disappeared because with the both of them, his death would be the aftermath.
You forgot your cross-bow, she said as she gave it to him with a smile.
What took you so long, Dragon-Man asked, I was waiting all this while.
You forget it takes long to reach you when you put yourself in trouble.
At least be happy I turned the Brackti Guard into pebbles of rubble.
Dragon-Man looked at the Composti cross-bow and this was good weaponry.
If he saw Drent it would be the last time Drent ever stepped to he.
Let’s go, I got the Paroah chariot, there is no time to waste here.
Drent probably went back to regroup inside of his lair.
Dragon-Man climbed inside the chariot and said “I will drive.
The Lady of the Night replied, I got it, because I want to survive.
They drove the chariot away, and Dragon-Man got back to his place
Little did he know that waiting for him was a criminal court case.

Stanza 2-Dragon-Man’s Advocate
Dragon-Man went back to his home, he did not have a chance
To take back from Shark-Devil the Winged- Fire-Lance.
The next day, he got dressed and went to the building.
They say work is supposed to be the epitome of fulfillment.
See, Dragon-Man’s alter-ego was Jonathan Maine, Esquire.
This is what he would do if he ever had to retire.
But when he got to his desk, there were police all around.
Who told him to get down on the floor and put hands on the ground.
Jonathan never thought this would happen, a lawyer needs an advocate.
He was mad as **** but knew that he had to sit because he was bad at it.
Jonathan was brought to the precinct and placed in a prison cell.
When someone asked what he did Jonathan said I’ll never tell.
Well, well, said a voice and Jonathan instantly knew who it was for dinner.
It was Shark-Devil, also known as Joseph Grant, Police Commissioner.

I’ll let you out if you will work for me, Joseph Grant said with a’
smirk.                                                                                              
Jonathan sneered, Two wrongs don’t make a right so that would not work.
Well then, I guess your days of being Dragon-Man are over and done.
When I am through with you, only in your dreams will you see the sun.
Don’t’ I get a phone call, I know my rights and I know you know them as well.
Shark-Devil tossed him a cell phone and said, Tell them you are going to hell!
Jonathan picked up the phone and said, Now we have Shark-Devil where we want him.
The only problem is the court case, and to get the Winged Fire Lance from Shark-Devil
They accused me of assault, false pretenses and 4 counts of conspiracy and embezzlement.
In came Shark-Devil, holding the Winged Fire-Lance with evil in his eye
So isn’t it ironic that the Fire-Lance you so desperately wanted will make you die.
No need to go before a judge to say that you will not testify, I’m not that kind of guy.
Drent was an idiot, his powers were almost abysmal and worthless.
I needed something  good who would serve my every purpose.
Jonathan looked at the Fire-Lance, it was so hot and the blade was double-edged.
He knew I had to do something quick, or else he was in trouble drenched.

That’s not irony it’s a paradox, Jonathan shouted as I fumbled with my watch.
Jonathan pressed a button and the Abyss Sword came into his hand to launch.
So now we will battle in jail, Shark-Devil sneered as he changed into his form.
That is no big deal to Dragon-Man because that was where he was born.
The Fire-Lance was a marvelous weapon, good for melee or to throw.
But it was not as good as the Abyss-Sword at the brute hacking blow.
Suddenly Dragon-Man gave Shark-Devil a mighty swing, and he fell down.
This is not the last thing you have seen me, Shark-Devil said as he left town.

Dragon-Man pressed his watch, and now he was Jonathan Maine, scarred.
But now he would have to answer to the disciplinary board to not get disbarred.
He picked up the Winged Fire Lance, and that now made his weapons and arsenal.
The Fire-Lance belongs to those who can use it, and use it then well.
Now the lawyer needs a lawyer, Jonathan said with a sigh.
One of the prisoners said to him, I think I know a guy.
Jonathan picked up the phone, the one call did not now apply
The voice on the other end said, Don’t worry, I’ll get the charges dropped.
Now Jonathan just has to sit until he can make bail and get this trial stopped.

Stanza 3-We Are the Dragon-Power.
The dinosaurs did not die out, the survivors became the Dragon Power.
They left for higher ground in the Arurian Tower.
They worked on the Abyss Sword, Winged Fire Lance, Nike Sling and Composti Bow on their grind.
Because they thought that the power that killed the dinosaurs would come a second time.
To succeed where the first time, they had failed.
But they could not leave the tower, they were jailed.
I, Jonathan Maine, stumbled on the Tower, but the weapons were not there.
That someone malevolent would take them was the worst of my fear.

Suddenly I heard a voice who said, We are the Dragon Power and you are chosen.
To become Dragon-Man, and fight against our enemy called the Drozen.
This adversary is also yours, but our weapons were stolen by various evil.
Now you must go on a journey to get this arsenal back, and save your people.
I asked them why they could not fight, and they said, We do not have a presence.
When the Drozen fired asteroids at Earth, he disembodied our essence.
We could make the weapons, but we could not use these instruments.
But we will give you the power of disembodiment as our influence.
And here is what your people called a watch, it will tap into the power of Dragon.
But do not talk about us, no posts on social media or bragging.
I was astounding, but I was glad to have such nice bling.
Now it was the time to save all of Earth and everything.

The Dragon Power warned, Drozen wants to destroy everything, even the darkness
You will have to fight the evil on Earth, but keep your eyes on the ultimate test.
I took the watch, and pressed it, and instantly I saw the Diablo-Robots
The Dragon said, the power of the sky-animals on Earth was transformed to throw shots.
Because the asteroids contained a powerful source called Warbeuite.
We took some of it and used it to make the weapons to fight for good and right.
I just had one more question, how do you speak English so fluently?
People would walk by our tower and have conversations beside the tower’s sea.
I took the watch and pressed another button, and suddenly I was at home.
Out in the day, unbeknownst to me, a powerful being was getting off his throne.

Set a course toward Earth, he said, because this earthling will ruin my plan.
I am going to finish now what I should have done in the beginning.
Master Drozen, we are on our way, the Diablo-Robot said with glee.
Little did I know the strongest force in the universe was coming to fight me.

Stanza 4- The Council of the Faceless Tongues.
Drozen stood before the Council of the Faceless Tongues, kneeled before them.
He was the Commander of the Numberless Clans, and knew his superiors.
The Prefector murmured, you said with great confidence Earth was dealt with.
The Dragon Power and Dragon-man proves that your speech was myth.
Drozen replied, My liege, I was conquering other worlds to isolate the Earth rock.
Because to allege that I cannot subdue little Earth would be the worst talk.
The Prefector sneered, Maybe we need the Legate to acquire this oceaned planet.
And send you to a realm that is more manageable as a colonized hamlet.
Drozen urged, Not at all my Lord, I will make sure that the deed is done.
And by the end of my warmonger, there will be no doubt who has won.
I don’t want any interference, just let me leave and give me clearance
You are the Council of the Faceless Tongues, and I bow to you tyrants.
The Prefector motioned, Very well prepare your Diablo-Robots and go vanquish.
But be warned that if you cannot conquer this Earth rock, you will be banished.
The Drozen left muttering, I must destroy this Dragon Power and Dragon Man.
As the Drozen teleported to the Alieno-Mechanism, he called on the Numberless Clans.
Dragon-Man on Earth felt uneasy, he knew someone was coming in defiance.
But he could not face this threat alone, Dragon-Man knew he would need an alliance.
The Dragon Power told Dragon-Man, we must start to  form the Federation.
Drozen is on his way, and is coming to destroy by annihilation.
Stanza-The Gloryless Cause
As Dragon-Man he knew he had to find the Lady of the Night
Because she would vital for the Federation’s ultimate fight.
The only problem was that Dragon-Man did not know where to locate her.
He went to his house and thought, The search can continue later.
Suddenly the light turned on, and the Lady of the Night was there frowning.
So you would be in this fight without me after I rescued you, she said hounding.
Dragon-Man looked closer and saw that she was only clowning.
You know that I could not fight without you, Dragon-Man said with a grin.
And the best part is, you already are armed with your own weapon.
Lady of the Night observed, But there are two other weapons, and you have one hand.
Dragon-Man replied, I will recruit others for this Gloryless Cause but I will be in command.
Because this Gloryless cause needs the Oathed Sacrifice to fight.

I'll take on this burden to save, Drozen wants to put out the light.
Lady of the Night said, We can use the Paroah chariot as our battlecraft ride.
Dragon-Man wondered how the Paroah chariot would work with a fighting team inside.
Suddenly they were in the Dragon Tower, and the Dragon Power said we have to say.
That your collective powers together form the Nova Knighthood Way.
The Federation is made up of various Knighthoods to fight against this dire day.
The powers you have now are not enough to fight Drozen in his quest.
So we decided to fashion together a team that would have power to contest.      

Dragon-Man, you will be the Alpha Knight, and pilot the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night, your power is the Beta Knight, you will be in charge of the Gem Prism.
But what about the rest of us, Dragon-Man asked the Dragon-Power with surprise.
You must search for them, and remember, you cannot rely on just your eyes.
Dragon-Man woke up in his room, and sighed because he had a hearing.
It was at the end of the day, so when he went to work he knew Joe  would be jeering.
As Dragon-Man drove to work, he thought that he had forgot something.
Little did he know that an entity was not there, but it was coming.

Stanza 5-I will bring the War to Drozen
Dragon-Man took the letter from the mailbox and opened it.
When he saw who wrote it, he gasped and had a fit.
It was Drozen, who said I will bring to you The War
On a level your Earthlings have never known before.
You might have the Isotrain Mechanism but I have a machine
No use trying to wake up, because this is not a dream.
Dragon-Man crumpled the letter up and threw it away.
He knew that he had to be ready to fight right now today.
He contacted Lady of the Night on his Galvalar watch.
And told her to get here as soon as possible to this spot.
She came and Dragon-Man prepared to get the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night protested, The rest of the team isn’t here or risen.
I hope you would get reinforcements and rethink your decision.
Dragon-Man said, With the Isotrain Mechanism, I will take the war to he
Search for Drozen across the worlds and bring battle to make us free.
The Iso-train Mechanism came, Dragon-Man put the Abyss Sword in the Damocles Stone.
It roared to life, and Dragon-Man proclaimed, Drozen would wish he left us alone!
Lady of the Night parked her Paroah Chariot in it, and now they were ready.
With the Isotrain Mechanism and the Nova Knighthood, the Federation is deadly.
Lady of the Night took the Elysian Scabbard, this would help to ward off injury.
They searched the skies with the Spacecraft scope, looking for their enemy.
Suddenly Lady of the Night screamed, Look at that light headed right towards us.
Dragon-Man turned on the Isotrain Mechanism and said, Engage Supernova rockets full ******!
Drozen and Dragon-Man are on a collision course, the universe will bear this battle’s brunt.
Little did Dragon-Man know, one of the Dragon Power was working for the Faceless Tongues.

Stanza 6- When our Paths Cross Again, Drozen will meet the Hades-Grasp.
The Isotrain Mechanism was getting ready to go take flight.
When a voice cried out, Don’t leave yet you need me for this fight.
Who are you, Lady of the Night cried, and how do I know I can trust?
What about me, Dragon-Man protested, and Lady of the Night said it’s not you it’s us.
I am the Breastplate-Bearer and it is my life’s fulfillment to be the Delta Knight too.
Because Drozen is coming after all of us and what we love, it is not just you.
I carry the Breastplates for all the Knights of the Federation to carry.
So we must be going on our way soon, we cannot stop or tarry.
Because The War will be the event that will define our generation.
And it for this reason that we are all warrior-soldiers in this Federation.

Dragon-Man said, You speak like one who knows war and does skirmish
Bring the Breastplates to the Isotrain Mechanism so it can be furnished.
Breastplate-Bearer also said, I have a Space-craft Vehicle ready to conquer.
Dragon Man replied, We fight to win, but we carry the battle with honor.
You can handle the Lifeforce-Seeking Missiles as your job on the team.
Suddenly Lady of the Night let out a primal, unladylike hell-scream.

A woman was lying on the ground, and she looked so close to becoming a vegetable.
We need to rebuild her, said Breastplate-Bearer, because she looks so dead and still.
There is no time for chivalry, warned Dragon-Man, and she is too delicate to dismantle.
Lady of th
Just because I’m vulnerable
doesn’t mean I’m weak.
Just because I don’t cry in front of you
doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.
Just because I don’t speak up
doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say.
Just because I don’t react
doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tear you apart.
Just because I smile
doesn’t mean you can walk on me.
Just because I don’t hurt you back
doesn’t mean I lack masculinity.
Just because you say I am fat
doesn’t make me ugly. Not uglier than your soul.
Just because you say I’m feminine
doesn’t make my gender redundant.

I’m more a man than you’ll ever be, choking on your insecurities.
Getting kicks out of putting other people down,
everytime you feel threatened by the vastness of the world.

Just because I don’t stop you
doesn’t mean you can go back to doing what you did.

Just because I am me.
And not the version of me,
You want me to be.
Just because I am me.

And just because
I don’t roar doesn’t mean I’m not strong.
I’m more than capable of ripping you to shreds,
with my weaponry of words.

Just because.
I feeleth so anxious as the fleshy winds outside,
Invisible as their turquoise screams, I feeleth like everything is just not right;
Ah, but how if even all later suns shan't be fair,
And t'is passivity shan't ever be bound to fade?
For my soul declares-t'at he, it wants not any more to care;
And about thee only, it wants to be quiet, yet witty still-like yon pale lovesick summer glade;
I want to attach myself to our captivated hours right now;
With thee in my lap, and thy gentle whispers-as today shall be replaced by tomorrow.
I want to dream of thee once more tonight, o sweet Nikolaas;
My darling at present and from the future, whilst my only dearest, from the past.
Ah, sweetheart, why are but our subsequent hours-and perhaps paths, to suffer;
If thou art not by my side, and maketh not all t'is terseness better?
Ah, and wouldst it ever make sense any longer;
To live by him-but without thee, wouldst it but make my wild heart easier?
For censure is to which my answer, and is hatred-for I cannot help loving thee more;
I wanteth to love, and age-by thee, and by thee only, within my most passionate core,
And I wanteth not to understand anything-for comprehension shall but renew our last sorrow;
I wanteth instead-to renew t'is despaired wholeness, and its proven compassion-our love has once made nature show.

I still wanteth to remain quiet; to cherish and glitter within my wholesome devotion;
But which duly keepest me sober, and maketh my doubled heart tremble not;
Calmeth me, calmeth me with thy kisses-so enormous and tasty, like a quiet can of little soda;
Maketh me accursed, petty, and corny-maketh me thy lands' most dreaded infanta.
Tease me like I am a quivering little darling, who cannot but tries shyly still-to sing;
With a coarse voice descended from sunlight, where the worst are joy, and lovingly mean everything.
Maketh me honest, and tempteth me deeper and more;
Until I sighest and flittest myself away, with agility like never before.
Consumeth my greed-and with it, drinkest away its all befallen vitality;
For I knoweth thou shalt restore me, and reneweth all my endeavoured weaponry.
Ah, Nikolaas, how sweet doth feel t'ese blessings, by thy very side!
Nikolaas, Nikolaas, my lover-my sweet husband, from whom my hungry soul canst never hide!
Oh, and darling, Amsterdam might be cold, and plastered with one slippery tantrum;
But thou art still too comely to me-with those familiar eyes like a poem;
A poem t'at my very heart owns, and is graciously fat'd to be thine;
And thine only-for as I danceth later-in my princess' frock, I knoweth t'at thou art mine.
Ah, but fear thou not-for shall I protect thee like t'is;
I shall slander thy rival west and east, I shall degrade t'em all to'a yawning beast!
And upon my victory be I at ease-and finely grateful;
On which truth shall spring, and maketh our love venerated-and more fruitful!
Ah, just like I had b'fore-how canst kissing thee be extremely pleasant,
Even whenst he be t'ere, or perhaps-be the one concerned?
I hath to admit, t'at 'tis thee-and not him, I so dearly want;
Thee who hath painted my love, and made everything cross but all fun;
Thee whose disguise is my airs, and who hath ceaselessly promised to be fair,
Thee whom I'th dreamt of t' be my lifelong prince, with whom I wish to be paired,
Thee whose recitations lift my heart upwards, and my delight proud;
Thee whose poems hath I crafted, and oftentimes recited sensibly, out loud.

Ah, t'at devil-who told us t'at our joys cannot be real;
For they are not at all virtuous-nor by any chance, vigorous?
Ah, fear not those human serpents, darling, whose mouths are moth-like-bloodless but who canst ****;
For to God they are mortal still, and to His eyes whose jokes are not fun, nor humorous;
And thus we shall be together, as we indeed already are;
For our delight is not to be altered-no longer, as dwells already, in our heart;
We shall come back to it soon, as tonight's full moon smilingly starts;
And exalt it as wint'r comes-dear winter, as perhaps only be it, one few months' far;
Ah, and be I then, crush all t'is impatient longing, and sorely missed affection;
And vanquish all the way, t'is all omnipotent sin-of having loved only, a severe affliction;
Oh, but under whose guidance, Amsterdam shall embark again, and smile upon us;
And lift our tosses of joys, into the lapses of its sweet thunders, fast!
Ah, Nikolaas, shall we thus be together, under the wings of Amsterdam's rainbow;
To which endings shan't even once appear; as guilt be then dead-and is not to show;
The only left opus of love be ours to sing, as heaven is-so benevolent;
Betray us not, with fruits of indifference-much less once of one malice, and gay impediment;
And our happiness shall be pure-and entangled, like a pair of newborn twins;
To which our fantasies are finally correct, and thus its affixed lust-shall no more be a sin.

Such love and lust-whose fidelities shall be our abode;
But by whose words-delusions shall never arrive, and thus be put aside;
Novelties shall be fine, and their definitions shall be lovely;
They shall twitch not-for a simple moment of starched felicity!
Oh my darling, I needst to come and visit my wealthy Amsterdam;
With authenticity now I entreat: myself, myself, ah, run there-whenst stop doth time!
For as we embarketh, no more worrisome medleys shall they come again, to bring;
And to no more sonata, shall they retort-nor so adversely, and dishonestly, sing.
Ah, Nikolaas, the stars are now obediently looking down at us;
Jealous of our shimmering love, which is the lush garden's yonder, giddy beaut;
Ah, who is shy to its own mirror, and oft' looks away so fast;
But needst not to swerve, factually, for 'tis, on its really own-has but very much truth!
But still, whose hastiness maketh it succumb-and even more bashful then the sky;
Ah, as if those pastimes of its ****** soul are always about-and be termed but as a single lie!
For it shall never happen, to it-who owns our midnight hours-with one promise to be skirted away too fast;
With not even a single pause, nor a second of rest-while it passes?
Ah love, our very love; its circular stains, nevertheless, as left hurriedly-too massive to resist;
For they giveth taste to our plain moonlight-and thick'ning flavours to our kiss;
So at our first night of gaiety thereof-we won't be hunger for earning too much bliss!
Ah, Nikolaas, all shall be perfect-for felicity is no longer on our part-to miss,
And t'is part of our earthly journey shall feel, defiantly like heaven!
I shall be thine-and claim no more my thine self as his;
In thee doth I find my salvation, my fancy dome-and my most studious cavern!
All which, certainly-is his not; all which shall be ripe, and thus fragrant-like a rose perfume;
And by whose spell-we shall be love itself, and even be loved-within the walls of our private haven;
And even then, we shall love each other more-as be cradled in each other's arms; and lost like this, in such a league of harmonious poems.

Amsterdam shan't be rigorous, it shall be all fair,
Its notions are curious, like these but entrancing summer days;
Thinking of which is but a sweat-but a bead of sweat for which I most care,
Which is neither dreadful nor boastful, as I devour it avidly, amongst t'is poem I'm 'bout to say!
And t' mindfulness of which, I shall no more hastily rid of;
I was too dreary back then, crudely foreshadowed by a crippled love!
'Twas my mistake-my supposedly most punished, punished mistake;
For faking a love I ought not t've ever made, and one I ought not t' ever take!
A mere dream I hath now fiercely pushed away;
And from which I hath now returned, to my most precious loyalty,
As thou knoweth-thou hath never wholly, and so freely-left me,
Thou art all too genuine, and pristine, like yon silvery river-as I oft' picture thee.
Ah, so t'at is all true; t'at thou art my most gracious, and unswept loving angel,
A prince of royalty, and my very, very own nighttime spell.
Just like thou hath done hundreds of time, thou maketh me but delight and mischief;
And notions t'at bubble within my most, giving me charms and comfort-for me to continue to live!
Together, our lips shall be warm-and no more joy shall be left naked;
Soon as there are more tears, we shall throttle and fairly feast on it;
Making it all but remotely conscious, and forcibly-but sensibly, deluded;
Making it writhe away impaired, and its all possible soul awesomely flattened!
Ah, Nikolaas, thou shalt be the mere charm t'at leaves my odes too fabulous-by thy wit,
Oh, my darling, for thou art so sweet; o, Nikolaas, I really hath only my words, to play with!

And guess what, my darling, heaven shall but gift us nobly, all too soon;
An heir shall we claim; as descendeth one day beneath the excited full moon.
For he shall be born into our naughtiest perusal;
And demand our affection excitedly, as time is long, as arrives winter-from last fall!
Soft is his hair, clutched in his skin-so bare and naive;
He shall be our triumph, and a farther everyday desire, to continue to live!
And we shall consider him our undefined, yet a priceless fortune;
Light as the night, at times singular but cheery-like the sketch of a fine moon.
And portray in us both the loveliness of a million words;
He shall be handsome, just like our love-which is damp but funny, in whose two brilliant worlds!
Oh, my darling, I now looketh forward to my heavenly Amsterdam;
Whose prettiness shall be thoughtful, as I thinketh of it-from time to time.
Ah, thus-when all finally happeneth, I shall know thou art worth the whole entity of my thousand longings;
Thou art the miracle t'at I hath decently prayed for-and thus fathomably, the very sweet soul-of my everything.
Mike Arms  Jan 2012
Drawing
Mike Arms Jan 2012
Why scrawl any
pattern or
family of bitemarks
or caresses

The illustrator has
children of his own
and loud red
wine to waste

Visiting your birthplace
in your example
suggests antique
weaponry

Through sublime sense
Puritan watershed
(man enters a tavern)
I'd like a room and a bath please

(tavern keeper)
a room I can do, but, a bath, totally out of the question

(man)
your sign says "rooms with baths", and I would like a room with a bath, as advertised

(tk)
you aren't from around here are you?

(man)
no, why?



(tk)
I thought not, so, I will say this slow...A room I can do, but a bath is totally out of the question

(man)
there is no need to take that tone with me. I made a perfectly legitimate request, as per your signage, and you take umbrage with me.

(tk)
I did not, and besides, I can't take it, if I don't know what it is. Hold on one minute....(walks outside, grabs a shovel on the way out...knocks sign down).

(tk)
(upon re-entry)....now, about that sign you said you saw. I believe you were mistaken.

(man)
this is the "three rivers tavern" as per the sign, which I assume is no longer hanging out front.

(tk)
It is, and your assumption is correct...it isn't

(man)
so, being the "three rivers tavern" would there not be three rivers in the proximity of this establishment from which you would be able to draw water for me, a bypasser, to get a bath

(tk)
yes...and no

(man)
what kind of an answer is that?

(tk)
Yes, it is the "three rivers tavern" and no, there are not three rivers in close proximity of this establishment from which I, a humble tavern keeper, and former owner of a sign, advertising, falesly, I might add...the presence of a bath in this establishment.

(man)
you are called "three rivers tavern" yet, there are no rivers nearby.? what kind of advertising is that?

(tk)
firstly, the sign was already made up, so, it was cheap. Secondly, who are you to question the name of my establishment, which I might add, is quite famous  in the region for many things, other than it's name, which, we may now be changing due to the sudden loss of our sign.

(man)
I sir, am Robin Hood of Sherwood.

(tk)
your'e not

(man)
I am. I am Robin Hood, Sir Robin of Loxley, if you please.

(tk)
I repeat...you're not. Not in those tights.

(man)
And what is wrong with my tights?

(tk)
Seriously? Do I really have to tell you that?

(man)
Yes, what is wrong with these tights?

(tk)
First off, Robin Hood, The REAL Robin Hood wouldn't be caught dead in those. Baggy, Saggy, there's leaves on them, holes...Robin Hood would have nice tight tights that were in good kip and accentuated his....

(man)
*******!

(tk)
exactly

(man)
No, I mean, how would you know what Robin Hood would wear? I mean, what I would wear? The condition of these tights helps me keep incognito in local archery competitions. If I went around showing ...

(tk)
*******!!! INCOGNITO? You are no more than a wayward traveller trying to get a free room on the reputation of someone else, namely...Robin Hood

(man)
My good sir, these are old, tights, ripped from swinging through the trees over time.

(tk)
If you are Robin Hood, tights or not...prove it to me. I'll give you the room, and go for the water myself.

(man)
How should I prove it, with no arrows, bow, and apparently no weaponry in sight. How do I go about showing I am Robin Hood?

(tk)
Use mine. Yep...use my bow, and I dare you to...to...shoot an apple off of his head over there. Oy....wake up. Catch (tosses an apple to man in the corner)
Put that on your head...he's gonna shoot it off.

(man in corner)
He's gonna what? off my...no he's not.

(man)
No, I will not. You obviously have me confused with William Tell. He's Swiss, they do things differently over there.

(tk)
You will, or you won't get your room

(man)
And if I should miss, what then?

(tk)
Not a problem. I've got lots of arrows and apples. We can just keep trying.

(man)
I mean HIM, what if I hit HIM.?

(tk)
You won't if you are who you say you are, and besides, I said I've got lots.

(man in corner)
But I'm your brother in law

(tk)
I've lots of those too. Now, here (hands arrow and bow to Robin)
Step back 10 paces, I'll open the door, and you....put that apple up.
One shot...hit the apple,....room and a bath....miss, and it's off with you

(man)
I really don't think...

(tk)
shoot or leave. Or...I can call the sherrif. If you are Robin Hood, he'll certainly want to see you.

(man)
Fine, give me those. (walks back 10 paces as the tavern owner opens the door).
(He fires, splitting the arrow in two, as the man in the corner slides to the floor)

(tk)
ROBIN!!!! Why didn't you say so? I knew it was you all the time. What can I do for you?

(Robin)
First, pick him up. Next that room. Then I have some requirements, that I need not be tested on. A bow, arrows, clothing, footwear. I need to look the part at the tournament coming up, when I do the big reveal, and I need the proper equipment. You, will help me with that, and seeing as how I have little to no money, as I said, I will need to put this on account which I will pay after the tournament.

(tk)
credit? You want credit?

(Robin)
Yes, as you can see, I am good for it.

(tk)
I saw you shoot an apple off a mans head from ten paces, not...win an archery competition with archers from all over Europe. CREDIT?

(Robin)
Here, hold this apple.

(tk)
Right, First things first...bow and arrows!!

(Robin)
I shall need to see the fletcher.

(tk)
that would be baker

(Robin)
No, I need a bow and arrows. I need a fletcher

(tk)
Exactly, Baker

(Robin)
I am at a loss. I need to see a fletcher and yet you keep saying Baker

(tk)
Right, The Fletcher is Baker. That's the man's name. You need to see Baker, the fletcher.

(Robin)
I see....I think. So I see the baker.

(tk)
You see the fletcher

(Robin)
Baker

(tk)
exactly

(Robin)
that's what I said.

(tk)
No,you said the baker

(Robin)
That's what you told me.

(tk)
No, I did not. I said The Fletcher was Baker. That's the mans name

(Robin)
Baker

(tk)
Now,you have it

(Robin)
Assuming I get what I need from the fletcher. I need a tailor.

(tk)
pastor

(Robin)
No, I do not need to see a pastor, I need a tailor

(tk)
That's the man's name. Pastor is the tailor

(Robin)
So, the pastor is the tailor

(tk)
No, Cooper is the pastor, pastor is the tailor.

(Robin)
I don't need a cooper, I need the tailor

(tk)
exactly. pastor

(Robin)
So, let me see...I go to see the pastor and the fletcher

(tk)
No, you see the tailor, pastor and then the fletcher

(Robin)
The Baker.

(tk)
Listen closely, or you'll never get your room. You see Baker the Fletcher and Pastor, the tailor. Not, the baker and the pastor. You keep getting mixed up

(Robin)
I'll need to write this down
Ok, for footwear, Cobbler

(tk)
Butcher

(Robin)
The butcher makes shoes too.?

(tk)
No. Butcher is the cobbler

(Robin)
That's what I said

(tk)
Look, it's dead easy, you go to see Baker, Pastor and Butcher and you'll be set

(Robin)
I'll end up with bread , a bible and meat. How does this help me in an archery competition?

(tk)
No...you see baker the fletcher, pastor the tailor and butcher the cobbler. It couldn't get any simpler

(Robin)
Maybe I don't need that room after all.

(tk)
follow...fletcher baker pastor tailor butcher cobbler. then back here.

(Robin)
No...I think maybe....is there another village close by.

(tk)
Yes, on the other side of the three bridges

(Robin)
Which, as we know, do not exist

(tk)
And...they speak Welsh!!! your choice

fade out

— The End —