I am just one of millions,
Seemingly identical from afar,
Crisp and uniform, like a freshly pressed shirt,
Up close I am different,
One petal less, one petal more, perhaps a different shade of white.
We blanket the earth, swaying together in the breeze. An ocean of white ripples,
Individually we crash against one another, just as waves do against a jagged cliff,
Pushed! Shoved, in the same direction by the unforgiving and relentless wind.

You gaze upon us, browsing like a happy shopper,
Your shadow blocks the light; engulfing me like a hungry toddler,
Aware of the inevitable I brace myself, praying that I am not next
Preying that in your eyes I am unworthy of your attention,
But then you do it, you swoop down,
Plucking me from my roots. Cutting my ties to this earth.
Slowly I am examined,
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not,
This tortuous game of chance induced by boredom strips me of myself!
Then its over, you have been amused and now I am left bare,
Laying on the dirt; left to slowly decay while you run off,
Looking for your next victim.

Sometimes,
No matter how satisfactory
Your explanation is
It wouldn't matter
because
You have already been judged

Harsh geographical tongues,
Set up against the asphalt gleaming in the bright light,
The A Crowd betwixt and between- efforting that cool knowing stance to cover the fear reeked knee **** bloodthirst their inadequacy always spawned.
The B Crowd simpers aghast at what unconscious desires to adopt the life husk of burned out hucksters has wrought.
The sentimental inspector dutifully tweaks the scales so we all have a tighter grasp on true value.
Postscript: Lord grant me the grace to disguise the portentous notions that I am anything other than what I pretend to be...


[Rolloroberson copyright 2020]

I.

This, a final offering,
before the clipping of wings.
A love like blood,
oh anathema.
A grey declined to black,
oh herem.

It means salvation
knelt with darkness.


II.

So it be!
So it be!
So it be!

Ring the bell,
close the book,
blow out the candle.

Douse the sacred sun
and find belief caught in fishermen's nets.


III.

In silence of angels,
climbing broken ladders,
no ascent, no longer.

Salvation has
knelt with darkness.

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

Oh ugly butterfly
They think less of you

When you were a caterpillar
There was hope
The children caught you
Placed you in a jar
Picked you leaves
And watched you grow

Hatched
From a cocoon
Sprouted wings
But "oh no"
They were not colorful

The children released you
Just let you go
"Fly away ugly butterfly"
They scream and shout
"We do not love you
for you are not beautiful"

Just because you know my name
Doesn't mean you know what I've been through
Just because you know the colour of my eyes
Doesn't mean you know how many tears they have cried
Just because you have seen the clothing I wear
Doesn't mean u know what type of person I am
Just because you heard stories about me
Doesn't mean they are true

So therefore don't judge me. .. just because ...