Moral point of view,
no books with any answers,
my lover, it’s weird without you around
& I have not yet mastered
the words of poetry, to convey to you.
While surprised that you ever loved,
while I was screaming about
everything being Holy.
For this had changed the course of my
affairs, it’s like I no longer have
any rest, I’m sure my emotions are
sending me to hell.
Wept, to how I suffer, my stanzas are lost,
though it seems selfish to vent
for me only, I was your keeper, because
you promised to be mine & war
broke out.

Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch

It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease

and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.

It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,

it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. ******
are not so **** particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!

A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may

I have my hit of calcium today?

Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating

Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch

It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease

and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.

It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,

it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. ******
are not so **** particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!

A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may

I have my hit of calcium today?

Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating

"This is a collect call from: 'Darlene Ryder', at the Nielsen County Sheriff's Department, press '2' to accept charges and be connected."

beep

"hello? Bill?...you there?"
"**** Darlene, how many times we gotta ******' do this?!", he threw his voice at her through the phone like a fastball wrapped in firecrackers.
"I dint do nuthin' wrong! they jus got sumpn' against me s'all!"
"uh huh, the **** d'you do, huh?
"the ***** had it comin', I was jus tryin' to have a few 'n relax then she come 'n talk 'bout how I was lookn' atter funny but I watn't- I was jus mindin' my own talkin' to Charlie. So all's I need from you is to get yer lazy, belly-picken', beer-guzzlin' hole fer a face down here and unpinch this ******' mess!" and hung up the receiver on her end of prison.
      The guards shoot each other a look then raise their eyebrows.  They'll be recounting this over beers tonight beneath the monstrous glow of 47 90" TVs in between attempts at the waitress young enough to be their daughter.  They'll shovel in the wings of a total of 18 birds drowned in hot sauce and butter before the sports bar stops feeding them.  Then they'll all drive home drunk with hot breath and testosterone like molasses, ending their nightly routine with their ***** in their hands and their pants around their ankles drooling at tiny glowing screens.  
      Long live the American gods of New Olympus.

The curse of being the youngest is that
They don’t recognise their own dysfunctionality
How abnormal is their normal
Convinced about the truth
Yet less knowledge means less empathy
Leading to laughing at you for being you
The younguns should look up
Yet they are the highest
Psychological warfare of the ancestors
Why this why that questioning us
While we question the world not them
****** up wisdom is theirs
But we have clear voyance, crystal
I talk to myself because I can hear me
And they can’t. Won’t ever…

it crumbled
like a soft cookie,
and i fell.
like a lamb led to the
shearer
i go to my slaughter.

if they are happy,
then,
why should i?

an angel fell from the sky tonight.
he wandered the streets, wings trailing
(didn’t last long — do you know how
difficult it is, getting chewing gum
out of feathers?)

the angel squinted at the
headlight-drenched
pavement, the neon signs
and gold squares stamped into
the sides of skyscrapers. he
lifted his wings against the rain
and looked for his stars
but only saw the red light
of a passing plane.