Honor, I wear a discotheque
Like, a clown's first dance
Integrity, comes for permission, wicked
Opinion, salt and pepper on an egg, is a demon's problem

Little more, than a thank you
Sassafras, is no hap's ecstasy
In the proud and angry due...
We made a frank photograph, your drunk intimacy...

Is a pardoned stare, at faerie tales
Meant upheld, upheaval is a wager
Of a world, with no clash with vice fail's
Proper though, in the name of fate's mere

Mercy, with an extra shirt
Ready for a pant's relent, regret
In an unescapable kiss, of hurt
And possessing quaintness, we are the boding let...

Witness the gasp...
Of a spirit, erudite to a finish
Of levity, long before callous can ask
Is it all right, to wink at liberty's wish?

O fair Helena descending-
How could you not look at me?
You were once Narcissus in the meadow;
Kissing the soil-
Blooming with lavenders-
Basking in the afternoon sun-
Where did all your sunshine go?

Your blurry reflection-
       of somberness;
                  heavy eyes;
                          calloused hands;
                                 disheveled hair;
                                   timid air-
                    
                               Dismayed the goddess in you.

                                          Faded golden lyre;
                                     Withered Pierian roses;
                                      Crushed altar of flame;  
                                            Mortal madness!
                                    Ascend back to the divines-
                                    Depart from this mortal coil;
                                 Be the Narcissus in the meadow.

A few weeks ago, I had less thoughts,
But now they’ve come back and they can’t seem to stop

I feel massive and huge
I’ve let myself go
How can I live like this
I’m puffy like dough

I want to control what I eat.

But I’m at the mercy of what my parents make
And the awkwardness that surrounds my plate
I can’t talk about how this is driving me insane
I know I’m crazy, these thoughts are inane

But I don’t know what to do.

I just want to be fit, like what I see in the mirror
Not hate every inch of fat on my rear
I want to be lean.

But what if I can’t have this
That might be true
Too much restriction
Metabolism won’t come through
Messed up my body
Messed up my life
On a path to a body,
I’m filled with strife

I don’t believe this will cease to haunt me
Incompatible with my nature
Incompatible with me
I want to achieve
And be the best I can be
I obsess over my shape
And my unknown weight
I’d rather be destroyed
Than discover I’ve gained

Truly, there is no cure.
Intense psychotherapy
Is the only hope there
But my thoughts aren’t distorted,
It’s our culture, I swear
My struggles are normal
Reflective of today
In these thoughts I may drown
In our culture I am prey

What does it feel like.....

For all those who look for traces,
For indications,
For signs
To know what dismay looks like.....
It looks like nothing
A big blank nothing,
A nothing,
That manages to consume everything.


What does it feel like?
To look around,
Big spacious room,
Observe things, occupy spaces
Imaging it being vacant,
Would it affect anything?
Or will it just be nothing?



What does it feel like?
To hear voices,
Pretty lies and
Little rumors that resides,  
As they resonate mind with massive amplitude.
And cover the actual harsh truth
Does it damage just minor things?
Or break confidence that was building?


What does it feel like?
To search for something,
Perhaps support to cling,
Or slight hope in the surroundings?
Sometimes it could just be smiles,
Or a piece of advice.


It could be anything,
Anything at all,
That could redeem something
Of this existing dark empty being.
But maybe at some point eventually,
It would be renamed solely,
As too much of expecting.


That's what it feels like  
To move towards nothing,
As it consumes everything.

It's said that the longer you try to keep something away, the deeper it's impression has on you. I fell even harder this time. I wasn't sure if this was love or guilt, it kept me at bay - it felt the same.

The first day i ever loved her, must have been or perhaps should have been the day i cherish the most; instead, it became the day that trips me over and shoves me deep into a pit of sorrow and guilt. I can't seem to get out of it. I hurt the only love of my life.

Call me depressed, maniac or just a socially awkward ****, it doesn't matter, the day i made her cry all over again, caused her pain - I became all of it.

Not only did I deprive her of all the happiness and laughter she deserved, but I also filled her with doubt, distress and hatred. I birthed Pain which cripled me with anxiety and hopelessness. As a parent it should have been my duty to look after her, but my anguished soul abandoned her. I didn't dare think about how it must have terrorised her, yet when I look at her, seeking mercy, I see her pretty face, scarred by my pathetic self: laughing, hiding too much behind that pretty smile.

If only I could make her happy. If only I could look after her without fragmenting her soul even more.

Words were thrown into a turning wheel,
Twisting and turning their meaning,
Humble and thoughtful they were not,
They were intended to hurt and dismay,
I felt their sting and cold touch,
Why was I the target of such accusations?
Am I the carrion and they the scavenger?
I did not deserve this,
Or maybe I did.

Coronavirus Poems

These are poems and translations of mine that apply to the coronavirus pandemic ...



This World's Joy
(anonymous Middle English lyric)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter awakens all my care
as leafless trees grow bare.
For now my sighs are fraught
whenever it enters my thought:
regarding this world's joy,
how it all comes to naught.

Originally published by Better Than Starbucks



Fowles in the Frith
(anonymous Middle English lyric)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The birds in the wood,
the fishes in the flood ...
and I must go mad:
much sorrow I walk with,
for beasts of bone and blood.



Ech day me comëth tydinges thre
(anonymous Middle English lyric)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each day I’m plagued by three doles,
These gargantuan weights on my soul:
First, that I must somehow EXIT this fen.
Second, that I cannot know WHEN.
And yet it’s the third that torments me so,
Because I don't know where the HELL I will go!



Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch

THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!



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!)

Originally published by Setu



evol-u-shun
by michael r. burch

does GOD adore the Tyger
while it’s ripping ur lamb apart?

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

does GOD admire ur brains
while ur claiming IT has a heart?

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

NOTE: In the segmented title “evol” is “love” spelled backwards. The title questions whether you/we have been shunned by a "God of Love" or by evolution. William Blake’s poem “The Tyger” questions the nature of a Creator who brings lambs and tigers into the same world.



faith(less)
by michael r. burch

for the “Chosen Few”

those who believed
and Those who misled
lie together at last
in the same narrow bed

and if god loved Them more
for Their strange lack of doubt,
he kept it well hidden
till he snuffed Them out.

Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, virus, plague, disease, illness, death, fear, panic, dismay, germs, microbes