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****** Analysis
by Michael R. Burch

This is not what I need . . .
****-ysis,
paralysis,
as though I were a seed
to be planted,
supported
with a stick and some string
until I emerge.
Your words
are not water. I need something
more nourishing,
like cherishing,
something essential, like love
so that when I climb
out of the lime
and the mulch. When I shove
myself up
from the muck . . .
we can ****.

Originally published by Unlikely Stories. Keywords/Tags: analysis, paralysis, psychoanalysis, words, nourishing, cherishing, essential, love, muck, ****, ***
DIPTI DHAKUL Mar 17
At the end of it all, what were we trading for?
A brain inside our skull, spending it for muck!
Vexren4000 Apr 2017
Slowly creeping along,
Layers of discarded detritus,
It's reality the muck before it,
The muck its haven,
No concern for human qualms,
Unless the curious child,
Comes forth to crush the snail between their fingers,
Proving that,
even the mud,
Holds no refuge for the creature,
Trying to retreat from the surface.

©BAS
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
There was a girl stuck in the mire and the muck
No one thought of her very much

They used
They abused
They did all they could do
To keep her down in that stew

Yet she forgave
She wouldn't cave
She still put good out
In the mists of her doubt

But she was still shunned
When she become undone
She would leave scars
Her body was marred

But still she pushed on
Hoping she was wrong
That love would shine
But love always left behind
More anger, and wounds
She was leaving soon

And one very lonely day
She decided she couldn't stay
She left her world of gray
She dusted off her wings, and just flew away
Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
THE EARTH WAS STILL
AS IT SWIRLED AROUND ME
A HAZE OF ASH AND DREAMS
A BURN VICTIM OF AN UNREALIZED FANTASY
SCREAMING IN TWISTED EXCSTASY
AS MY FACES MELTED AND PETRIFIED
FROZEN FOR A LIFE ALIEN RECTIFIED
WITH A SHARP OBSIDIAN *****
TO DELIVER ME REMADE

HE SCRAWLED AND CLAWED HIS WAY TO ME
HIS WORLD ENTIRE, AS THOUGH I COULD SEE
MY LOVER ONCE DELAYED
BY GRIEF AND ASHES, A MISTAKEN AIDE
OF THE LOST GODSPOKE MEN

HE TOLD THEM TO LEAVE HIM DIRE
THAT HIS PASSION WOULD CARRY HIM THROUGH MUCK AND MIRE
FIERY INTO THE REALM ABANDONED CRIES
WRAPPED IN THE DUSTY ORGANZA LIES
HE SEEMED LIKE AN EYELESS CREATURE
BLUNDERING HIS WAY, A BLIND BEESHECHER  
SEARCHING FOR LOVE WHERE THERE WAS ONLY
A MAELSTROM OF LONGING

REBORN IN HIS GRAVE OF PROPHETS AND GRIEF
A SOLDIER SENT ONCE TO TEACH
THE FIRE SCORCHING AND TWISTING MY SHROUD
AS HIS WORLD WENT TUMBLING, BROKEN AND PROUD

TORN IN HIS WAKE OF GRACE
AND WHEN MY BODY HE FOUND ENCASED
IN GLASS, AS THOUGH A TRUE LOVE AWAITS
BUT WHAT HE COULD NOT ENKINDLE IN HIS HEART
WAS WHAT WOULD RIP THE GLASS APART
LOST IN OBSIDIAN IN ASH AND GLASS
A SHALLOW PRISON
OF LOSING AND LOVE AND
THE SPACE BETWEEN US
this was a poem I wrote, inspired by the book the road by Cormac McCarthy

— The End —