Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Arcassin B Apr 2020
By Arcassin Burnham

Speak to my sanity like you would do my dad,
convey me like you would do my mom,
i was born in a world so untamed by the evils that
clashed , homeless people don't even get a pass,
masses controlled , careful don't cut your foot
on this thin glass,
don't care about mommy and daddy's past,
if anything I'll be smart enough to see what they did,
as they look back,
Hi nice to meet you , I am their little one,
first born and hopefully the only one,
I got an open remedy for the stars and sun
peaking into the universe like I ain't never done ,
wrong my loves , if you don't love me than I sure
understand, I know my parents will teach me the ways
to be a woman or if I'm a man, I will be as noble like the
Gods in greek , as poetic as my dad, like my mom too sheek,
now tell me , what's harmful about this peace?


©abpoetry2020
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2020/04/little-one.html
Quarantinistani Apr 2020
Quarantine,
you must.

In sha Allah,
Coronever you may.

Fast by day.

By night,
Taraweeh pray.

This is the way.
Fatwa ruling by Shaikh Mufti Babyyoda Al-Jedi. 🤣🤣🤣
Dua's requested, pleases and thank yous in advance.
Ramadan Mubarak.
Gestures of god in one's owe over wrapping
Wreath with - with his wife,
Theme of thankfulness -
thud and thunders of heart theft by thee,
Amok amoral in amatory
Way amazed by my grand ambassador of my heart ♥
Militate my mind in a mysterious way,
It's all her, by the myth of
Marriage - The key of magestic mural.
Cjf Apr 2020
Hey ez. Just wanted to say, you would be 5 months now. Almost to 6 baby girl. Cousin Ellie just got to 7. Shaydens at 1. Liliana is at 8. You would’ve been right in between. Just perfectly spoiled rotten with love. We miss you. I do. Sometimes I feel so guilty that I don’t think of you often. But thinking of the could’ve and would’ve beens leaves an ache inside that hurts too much. I guess I’ve associated you with so much pain that I think of you when I’m feeling low. I’m happy for the most part. You know? Like.. things feel okay. I held shayden the other day remember? I dreamt of you that night and felt like I was holding you and I felt like that was a push from you to tell me that it was okay for my arms to hold a baby even if it’s not you. It’s just hard for me tho. To have to be awkward and laughed at and watched over as I hold a newborn when I should’ve been used to it by now. I should’ve been the one to be able to tell the best way to angle the head and even know how to burp them. I know others don’t mean to be insensitive it’s not their fault.. I’m the one who always shows them how strong I am and that im not still healing. Thanks to you. I don’t know some times wether to thank you or not because if you were here I wouldn’t have had to find out what I’m capable of. If you were here I wouldn’t have had to find out what being strong means. You showed me the purest love in the most simplistic way and I wish there was a way I could feel that again. Maybe the hurt inside me when I think of you is that love still just not so pure anymore since it’s marred with losing you. I know it’s bad that I don’t talk about you. But baby, it’s only been 5 months. How does anyone expect me to just be okay with it now? 5 months of you being alive would be you still being brand new. 5 months of you being dead means that I’m still holding on. 5 months of me trying to go back to normalcy. Staying with friends, going for drinks, laughing and making jokes. Some of it feels more fake than others. I don’t think you realize how much happier I would be with you here. I sometimes get a thought in my head that is terrible, but that I think is my way of coping because it isn’t how I really feel. You know? That maybe I wasn’t ready for you. Maybe I was too ill prepared. I mean come on look at us. I can barely make it by and there’s just two adults. No car. No home. No baby. And we’re still struggling. So sometimes I think, yes maybe it is better for you.. that way you won’t ever have to know how much this world really is just a climbing ladder and a lot of the times we’re at the bottom. Maybe sometimes it would be easier if you were here, maybe you would be motivation. Something to get us out of our hole we’re in. Or that I’m in.
I don’t know what’s right anymore. I wish you were here so I could just talk your little head off again. I miss those morning drives of just telling you what I had in store for us. Of complaining about nonsense and always losing track of what I was saying but actually feeling listened to for once. You made me feel so much peace just by talking to you. I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore. Everyone has their own problems and me adding to theirs when my problems are easily fixable seems pointless. Idk. I just miss you. I’m sorry that I’m a bad mom. I didn’t deserve you but I thank you so much that you gave me you.
This is more of a letter than a poem. But I guess poetry is what we make it. Side note: It’s now been a year since we’ve lost her, these were just words I wrote to help the process.
Yazad Tafti Apr 2020
today i feel like putting a gun to my temple
colt .45 ravaged my cranium only so i don't have to go to temple
no more sins i need to have confessed
polished sleek glock; my prayer ejected through the chamber
PULL THE TRIGGER -- FUCKN PULL IT MAN!!
hold on, the last time i come to terms with contraband
am i filled with love,  joy, despair or anger?
all i need is my reverend spirit to unclothe its self
i no longer succumb to the falsity of needing to have impressed


cut the gesture man
you just be playing chicken
but when i quit playing
you'll hear me squawk
one shot you'll know i've been stricken
farmer Joe tell him this is his last wake-up call
and that bright light in the mornin bruh
we all know sunrises don't last for a split second  


POP! muuu fckkkaaa
really it's a rooster that squawks in the morning
i feel better
one way in one way out baby
tosh Apr 2020
JDV
Baby, i can see my whole life in your eyes..
Please don’t go

Sunday
4/12/20
Poetic T Apr 2020
My conciseness was a seed of spider threads,
             and when an idea birthed like a
sack of baby arachnids.

Crawling within,  
  consuming my every introspection.

I slumped over the page, they crawled forth,
           tiny metaphors continuing after
   my musing was consumed within..
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
These are Christmas poems by Michael R. Burch. Some are darker Christmas poems and heretical Christmas poems.

The First Christmas
by Michael R. Burch

’Twas in a land so long ago . . .
the lambs lay blanketed in snow
and little children everywhere
sat and watched warm embers glow
and dreamed (of what, we do not know).

And THEN—a star appeared on high,
The brightest man had ever seen!
It made the children whisper low
in puzzled awe (what did it mean?).
It made the wooly lambkins cry.

Not far away a new-born lay,
warm-blanketed in straw and hay,
a lowly manger for his crib.
The cattle mooed, distraught and low,
to see the child. They did not know

it now was Christmas day!



Christmas Wishes
by Michael R. Burch

My wish for you, with Christmas near,
is troubles fleeing, fleet as deer,
and peace encompassing as snow,
bright merriment in brilliant flow.

I wish for you, with Christ’s Eve here,
a silver moon should skies seem drear,
white stars to light a festive sky,
sweet warmth caressing from on high.

I wish for you on Christmas day
a tree enchanted, festooned, gay . . .
and Christmas night, as carols play,
bright candles lined in white array.

But most of all, I wish you well,
and so much more than words can tell.
For this and every coming year,
Noel, Noel and Christmas cheer!




Late Frost
by Michael R. Burch

The matters of the world like sighs intrude;
out of the darkness, windswept winter light
too frail to solve the puzzle of night’s terror
resolves the distant stars to salts: not white,

but gray, dissolving in the frigid darkness.
I stoke cooled flames and stand, perhaps revealed
as equally as gray, a faded hardness
too malleable with time to be annealed.

Light sprinkles through dull flakes, devoid of color;
which matters not. I did not think to find
a star like Bethlehem’s. I turn my collar
to trudge outside for cordwood. There, outlined

within the doorway’s arch, I see the tree
that holds its boughs aloft, as if to show
they harbor neither love, nor enmity,
but only stars: insignias I know—

false ornaments that flash, overt and bright,
but do not warm and do not really glow,
and yet somehow bring comfort, soft delight:
a rainbow glistens on new-fallen snow.

I had Robert Frost in mind when I wrote this poem, and thus the title. Frost was fond of the word “arch,” and it’s here because of that fondness. The poem imagines him as an old man and a skeptic, but one who never really made a complete break from his childhood faith. The rainbow created by the “artificial stars” was not something I had planned ... in fact, I believe I wrote that line before I understood that the Christmas tree ornaments were creating the rainbow.



Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

by Michael R. Burch

Merry Christmas!
  Best of wishes!
    Hugs and kisses,
      Carolyn.
Don't do dishes
  or eat fishes.
    You're delicious,
      happenin'.
Happy New Year!
  Hope to see yer
    'round Springwater
       once again.
You're a treasure,
  such a pleasure
    (that's for sure),
      a **** friend.
Now I'm learnin'
  all 'bout yearnin',
    and I'm earnin'
      it, I guess.
I'll be stronger,
  live much longer.
    If I'm wronger,
      I’ll confess.
Had to tell you
  that you're swell; you
    ought to sell you
      for a mil.
If I could,
  I'd (knock on wood)
    be just as good.
      I never will.
Still, I love you,
  thinking of you;
    I eschew to
      tell you why.
If you're ever
  in the market
    (or hard up)
      just call this guy.



King of the World
by the Child Poets of Gaza, an alias of Michael R. Burch

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child free, for my people’s sake.

And once I had freed them, they’d all run and scream
back to my palace, for free ice cream!

Why are you laughing? Can’t a young king dream?

If I were King of the World, I would banish
hatred and war, and make mean men vanish.

Then, in their place, I’d bring in a circus
with lions and tigers (but they’d never hurt us!)

Why are you laughing? What else is a king’s purpose?

If I were King of the World, I would teach
the preachers to always do as they preach;

and so they could practice being of good cheer,
we’d have Christmas —and presents—every day of the year!

Why are you laughing? Some dreams do appear!

If I were King of the World, I would send
my counselors of peace to the wide world’s end ...

But all this hard dreaming is making me thirsty!
I proclaim Pink Lemonade; please bring it in a hurry!

Why are you laughing? Mom’ll make it in a flurry!

If I were King of the World, I’d declare
a year of happiness, with no despair—

only playing allowed, for my joyful subjects!
Not a toy left behind! Repair all rejects!

Why are you laughing? Surely no one objects!

If I were King of the World, I would fire
racists and bigots, with their message so dire.

And we wouldn’t build walls, to shut people out.
I would build amusement parks, have no doubt!

Why are you laughing? Should I use my clout?

If I were King of the World, I would drive
a red Ferrari, like no man alive!

But behind would be busses for my legions of friends:
we’d party like maniacs; the fun never ends!

Why are you laughing? Hop aboard! Let’s be friends!

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child blessed, for my people’s sake,

and every child safe, and every child free,
and every child happy, especially me!

Why are you laughing? Appoint me and see!



White Hot Christmas
by Michael R. Burch

I’m back from my jog;
it felt like summer
on Christmas Eve.
What a ******!
Forget the sleigh, Santa,
hire a Hummer.



Christmas is Coming!
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!



Trump puts the X in Xmas
by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; the Trumpster’s purse is flat.
Please put a billion in Fat Cat’s hat.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short of cash, well then, the yoke’s on you!



Trump’s Christmas Shutdown
by Michael R. Burch aka “The Loyal Opposition”

The Grinch is quite proud of his friend Trump tonight:
To see Whoville shut down? “An enormous delight!”

And old cranky Scrooge approves of Trump’s whims:
“Who the hell cares about all those dark Tiny Tims?”

Meanwhile in the Kremlin a ***** glass clinks
As a pale being smiles at his latest hijinks:

“Merry Xmas to all my AmeriKKKan friends
As the bright lights go out and democracy ends!”



Economical Fall
by Michael R. Burch  

The time to make love is autumn;
so kiss your sweethearts (if you’ve got ’em).
Seek ways to keep warm
but observe this norm:
by Christmas be sure you “forgot” ’em!



Yet Another Unmerry Xmas Poem
by Michael R. Burch

the Shepherds should have tended flocks
of sheep, and not become them.

the Wise Men should have used their heads:
religion numbs and dumbs them.

the Angels should have saved their praise
for saviors who can save us

from ludicrous superstitions
and Profits who deprave us.



What happened to compassion;
did it go out of fashion?
Or do Jesus and his Profits
prefer to line white pockets
and colorize dockets?
—Michael R. Burch



Malpractice

by Michael R. Burch

“He needs a new nose,”
Ma said, “suppose—
one that glows!”

The doc agreed
and worked with speed
on Santa’s steed.

The surgery done,
Ma told her son—
“It’s posh, and fun!”

But Rudolph wheezed
and cried and sneezed
with disbelief.

“It should’ve been red!”
the reindeer said,
pale and distraught in his hospital bed.

“Doc, what did you do?
Alas, boo-hoo!
It’s K-Mart-special chintzy blue!”



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?

Published by Lucid Rhythms, Poet’s Corner and VYBRANÉ PREKLADY BÁSNÍ Z ANGLICTINY, where it was translated into Czech by Vaclav ZJ Pinkava

“And I will **** her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins [kidneys] and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.” (So much for grace according to Revelation 2:23, where Jesus, or someone putting words in his mouth, vows to personally ****** specific children living at the time for their mother’s sins! To make matters even more macabre, one of the “sins” Jesus vows to ****** children for is eating foods offered to idols, which Saint Paul, author of most of the New Testament, said was fine and dandy! According to the gospels, Jesus himself said that Christians could eat anything they liked, because they were not defiled by what they ate. Was Jesus a murderous Indian Giver, or were the writers of the Bible making things up to suit their beliefs?



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!

Published by Philosophical Percolations and The HyperTexts

Will Jesus Christ cause or allow Albert Einstein and Mahatma Gandhi to be tortured in an "eternal hell" for guessing wrong about which earthly religion to believe? What about Jesus's parable of the Good Samaritan, who put aside religious differences to practice compassion? Did Jesus, who saved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, talk the talk but fail to walk the walk himself? Or did Christian theologians get something very, very wrong? And what would Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny say about such intolerance and infinite cruelty?

Keywords/Tags: Christmas poems, Christmas day, baby, Jesus, manger, crib, Bethlehem, Star of Bethlehem, star, lambs, children, cattle, oxen, donkey, straw, hay, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, Magi, Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Jesus Christ, Revelation, homosexuals, harlots, Christianity, heaven, hell, salvation, Gandhi, Hindu, saint, knees, kneeling, prayer, mercy, compassion, grace, toys, games, candy

Keywords/Tags: Christmas, day, lambs, star, children, baby, Jesus, manger, crib, cattle, oxen, straw, hay, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, Bethlehem
Next page