Painting the pictures I wanted to be in ~

Our life's lines are implied as parallels,
For they trace in the same direction
To our collective personnel's
profound destination:

As our life's lines are redrawn,
again and once again,
Our destiny's knotted into one,
A Triquatra till the end.

Know our lines stay parallel-
Though Infinite,  they'll never meet
In their never joining spell
Their truths within decept.

His name is Carter
And he’s all alone
In school
At home
Even on the bus because
no one sits next to him,

(But I’ve made an attempt
To be his friend
But I can’t break free of the honesty
That he is extremely annoying
So I will leave him to himself
Whenever I can)

One day his bag was extra heavy
And I could see it
But I did not ask about it
To not let out the brutal honesty
At the end
That I really did not care
Except my mind went there
Courtesy of the news
And I looked at the shape
Which wasn’t outlined as a rifle
So I looked the other way without paying attention anymore
And when I knew my safety was not compromised
I did not care about why it was so heavy

I stood behind him in line when
His bag bumped against me and
I pushed it out of my face because
What a nuisance!

He turned around looking annoyed
and quite frankly I did not care about his feelings

Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch

Eat, drink and be merry
(tomorrow, be contrary).

(***** and complain
in bad refrain,
but please—not till I'm on the plane.)

Write no poem before its time
(in your case, this means never).
Linger over every word
(by which, I mean forever).

By all means, read your verse aloud.
I'm sure you'll be a star
(and just as distant, when I'm gone);
your poems are beauteous (afar).

Keywords/Tags: editor, notes, refrain, recite, distance, distant, afar, star, poet, poems

the scent of a day dissolved
sweat rolled off, sun slipped
from the crown of the head to the shoulders
where it rests, like a cape, when you touch me

and us sunk and laughing
in the glowing amber light
bronzed vanilla from the bottle
talking about scrapes and the colour jade

you and I and broadway hip-hop
and your mother calls about her meds
that you didn't steal, though you steal time
as the peach dribbles soft into dusk

the softness of a day distant
behind the amber glass where i keep
all my pretty mortal thoughts
where you belong, incendiary,

cracking fizzy out of reach
behind amber on an evening
that puts other springs to shame.

Fear.
Immobilized.
You cannot hear
her crying eyes.
Run.
She flies away
like butterflies,
only lives
for a little time,
no one pays
her any mind.
Pain.
Shivering.
No longer in the dark,
yet she cannot see,
cannot feel
anything.
Escape.
She hides away
like when bears hibernate,
cannot let you in
until it’s too late
to be forgiven.
Assimilating.
Incrimination.
You cannot see
the invalidation in her eyes.
Fight.
She runs from you,
like a deer in the headlights,
soon dies
because you could not see her in time,
did not pay her
any mind.
Growth.
Love.
You cannot leave
her alone.

I am repaying my
wounded soul a visit

A distant voice tells me
“I am no longer welcome here”

FATHER oh father where were you;
my crib is destroyed by time and clothing
many sizes smaller and scars upon my heart
and soul that lists many writ of loss
too lengthy for me to scribe!

Some memory still exists -– imagery through
thick glass.  once believed I be born
but now reside in resolve : you were never
birthed nor lived and me by mother
immaculate conception.

:: 03-14-2014 ::