R.I.P.
by Michael R. Burch

When I am lain to rest
and my soul is no longer intact,
but dissolving, like a sunset
diminishing to the west ...

and when at last
before His throne my past
is put to test
and the demons and the Beast

await to feast
on any morsel downward cast,
while the vapors of impermanence
cling, smelling of damask ...

then let me go, and do not weep
if I am left to sleep,
to sleep and never dream, or dream, perhaps,
only a little longer and more deep.

Published by Romantics Quarterly and The Chained Muse. This is an early poem from my “Romantic Period” that was probably written in my late teens. Keywords/Tags: death, eternity, eternal rest, sunset, west, demons, beast, judgment, sleep, dream, nightfall, night, throne, vapor, vapors, impermanence

Become the beast,
look in the mirror,
stop hiding,
observe the splinters
of the lies burrowed within,
embrace the bitter pain,
as you accept the hypocrisy
of the lies, listen to the
howls of your hunger
for the vicious revenge,
as you lead the pack,
of the hidden fire in
your soul,
livid.

tale as old as time
a gram to get inside your mind
find a space to settle down
trip into alternate realm
away from sorrow
away from pain
this is your big release
beauty and the beast

you,
gentle beast
touching my skin like King Midas

me,
excavating your iced eyes and
devouring them raw with tenderness
and overindulgence